When I was a little girl, one my father's favorite jokes was about Fantomas. I don't know whether you are familiar with this character, but in Russia French Fantomas movies with Louis de Funes and Jean Marais were very popular. Basically the heroes are:
Fantomas - a ruthless and extremely successful criminal, master of disguise always appearing under assumed identity, which he achieves by wearing masks.
Juve - police detective obsessed with catching Fantomas.
Fandor - journalist, covering Fantomas's crimes and also looking to catch him.
Helene - Fandor's bride
So the joke goes like this:
"Ha-ha-ha," said Fantomas, leaving Helene's bedroom and taking off Fandor's mask.
"He-he-he," said Inspector Juve, leaving Helene's bedroom and taking off Helene's mask.
I don't know why this joke was appropriate to tell in front of or to the little kids, maybe to acclimated us with more liberal attitudes of the West, but I heard it often. Well, all of this intro is to tell you that we had our version of this joke play out at SubCasa.
I didn't get much sleep last night and needed a little caffeine, so I poured myself half a glass of Coke. I took a few sips, turned around for a second, only to find my son holding now almost empty glass and laughing, "Ha-ha-ha."
"Well, buddy, ha-ha-ha, the joke's on you, I have a cold sore and you just might get it too after stealing my soda and drinking from my glass." I repeated the "ha-ha-ha" (what, I wanted the lesson to sink in) and finished the coke in the glass, only to realize a second later that - he-he-he, DS still had a stomach virus... A virus that lasted quite a few days, affected both hubby and the kids; the virus that I miraculously avoided and now willingly ingested... He-he-he indeed.