An RVer love story about the Wandering Jokester

Introduction by Chuck Woodbury
The story below, written using artificial intelligence (A.I.), was created in less than 30 seconds after I typed in the prompt. Not a single word was changed.

Here is what I asked ChatGPT to write:

“Write a humorous 700 words story about Billy Bob Bodine who drove a 24-foot Tioga motorhome that was in terrible shape. It had dents all over. The floor was sinking because of water damage. The decals on the exterior were all peeling off. Billy, 67, was very poor but he was funny, at least he tried to be funny. But, oh, how Billy wanted to fall in love. The problem is he would tell everyone he met one corny joke after another, including non-stop knock-knock jokes and also bar jokes. Once he met a woman named Milly MacNutly in an RV park and right away started telling jokes. The woman was intrigued and nervously laughed at first, but soon tired of the jokes and Billy after he told her five jokes. She cringed at each one and finally said, “Don’t you know anything but jokes you silly old geezer?” Alas, Billy understood from previous encounters and walked, dejected, back to his motorhome, where across the front, above the cab was painted in big bold letters, ‘Wandering Jokester’.”

AND BELOW is exactly what the A.I. writing tool spit out, almost instantly. I created the illustration with A.I, too. It took about a minute. I could have improved the image with a few minutes’ work, but I chose to leave it as it was created from my very brief description.

While I am terrified about how A.I. is increasingly being used for malicious purposes, I must admit I love playing with it. I also enjoy creating A.I. images, which I used for the illustration above. Creating both the story and the photo cost me nothing but my time.

Now, for your entertainment and to illustrate once again how a creative algorithm can write fiction and non-fiction, is today’s story. The byline is our very talented fake writer Johnny Robot, a name we made up. And before you criticize this for whatever your reasons, keep in mind that this technology is in its infancy. Think about how it could evolve. I, for one, am scared.

By Johnny Robot
FAKE STAFF WRITER

Billy Bob Bodine was a character, alright. At 67, his pride and joy was a 24-foot Tioga motorhome that looked like it had survived a tornado, an earthquake, and possibly a dinosaur stampede. The poor thing had more dents than a golf ball, a floor that felt like a waterbed from all the water damage, and decals on the exterior that peeled off like sunburned skin. Yet, it was his home and his stage, with “Wandering Jokester” painted in big, bold letters above the cab.

Billy, despite his financial woes, had a spirit that couldn’t be squashed. He fancied himself a comedian and made it his mission to bring laughter to everyone he met. The problem was that his humor mainly consisted of corny jokes, endless knock-knock jokes, and bar jokes that even the most patient listener would find tiresome. But Billy had hope in his heart, and more than anything, he longed to fall in love.

One sunny afternoon, Billy pulled his rattling, creaking Tioga into an RV park that looked like it had seen better days, much like his motorhome. He set up camp, which involved little more than parking and making sure nothing fell off. As he was doing his routine check (which was more for show than anything), he spotted a woman setting up her own RV a few spaces down. Her name, he would soon learn, was Milly MacNutly.

Milly was a petite woman with a lively sparkle in her eye and a ready smile. She had short, curly hair and a bohemian air about her. Billy’s heart did a little flip-flop, the kind it hadn’t done in years. Gathering his courage and a repertoire of his best jokes, he sauntered over to her.

“Howdy, ma’am! Name’s Billy Bob Bodine, but you can call me Billy. Mind if I share a little joke with ya?” he said, tipping his tattered baseball cap.

Milly looked up, surprised but intrigued by the disheveled man standing before her. “Sure, why not?”

“Alrighty then,” Billy said, beaming. “Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”

Milly shrugged, “I don’t know, why?”

“Because they don’t have the guts!” Billy delivered the punchline with a wide grin.

Milly chuckled politely. Encouraged, Billy launched into another joke. “Knock, knock!”

“Who’s there?” Milly replied, still smiling.

“Lettuce.”

“Lettuce who?”

“Lettuce in, it’s cold out here!” Billy slapped his knee, enjoying his own humor.

Milly laughed a little, though it was more out of politeness than genuine amusement. Undeterred, Billy continued. “Two peanuts were walking down the street. One was a-salted!”

Milly giggled, but her smile was starting to wane. Sensing this, Billy rushed into his next joke. “So, a guy walks into a bar…”

“Wait,” Milly interrupted, “Is this another bar joke?”

“Yep!” Billy said proudly. “A guy walks into a bar with a piece of asphalt under his arm. He says, ‘A beer, please, and one for the road!’”

Milly’s laughter was getting more strained, and Billy could sense it. Desperately, he tried one last joke. “Knock, knock!”

“Who’s there?” Milly asked, her patience visibly wearing thin.

“Boo.”

“Boo who?”

“Don’t cry, it’s just a joke!” Billy said, finishing with his signature knee slap.

Milly sighed and gave a small, forced laugh. “Don’t you know anything but jokes, you silly old geezer?”

The words hit Billy like a punch to the gut. His shoulders slumped, and the sparkle in his eyes dimmed. “I guess I’m just a wandering jokester,” he mumbled, turning away.

He trudged back to his motorhome, the once lively letters spelling “Wandering Jokester” seeming to mock him. Inside, he sank into the threadbare driver’s seat and stared at the peeling wallpaper. Maybe he was just an old fool, a relic from a time when his jokes might have been funny.

As the sun set, casting a golden hue over the RV park, Billy felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Milly standing there, a soft smile on her face. “Billy,” she said gently, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. It’s just… well, it was a lot of jokes at once.”

Billy managed a small smile. “It’s alright, Milly. I guess I don’t know how to be anything but funny.”

Milly reached out and took his hand. “Maybe you could tell me more about yourself. Without the jokes.”

Billy’s heart swelled with hope. “I’d like that,” he said.

And so, under the fading light, Billy Bob Bodine and Milly MacNutly sat and talked. Billy told stories about his travels, his dreams, and his life. For once, he wasn’t just the Wandering Jokester. He was Billy, a man looking for love, and maybe, just maybe, he had found it.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Please leave a comment.

##RVT1164