A flea had oiled up his little flea legs and his little flea arms, had
spread out his
blanket, and was proceeding to soak up the Miami sun when who should stumble
by on the beach but an old flea friend of his.

"Oscar, what happened to you?", asked the flea, because Oscar looked terrible
wrapped up in a blanket, his nose running, his eyes red, and his teeth
chattering.

"I got a ride down here in some guy's mustache and he came down here by
motorcycle. I nearly froze my nuts off," wheezed Oscar.

"Let me give you a tip, old pal," said the first flea, spreading some more
suntan oil
on his shoulders. "You go to the stewardess lounge at the airport, see, and you
get
up on the toilet seat, and when an Air Florida stewardess comes in to take a
leak,
you hop on for a nice warm ride. Got it?"

So you can imagine the flea's surprise when, a month or so later, while
stretched out
all warm and comfortable on the beach, who should he see but Oscar - looking
more chilled and miserable than before.

"Listen," said Oscar, "I did everything you said. I made it to the stewardess
lounge
and waited till a really cute one came in, and made a perfect landing and got so
warm and cozy that I dozed right off."

"And so?" asked the first flea.

"And so the next thing I know, I'm on this guy's fucking mustache again."