The following joke is extremely long. It will likely require a decent investment of time to see it through. It is so long, it would stretch the page out far longer than would normally be acceptable for an internet forum. As such, I have hidden the entire joke (save the punch line) in the first spoiler box. If you wish to read the joke, feel free to open the first spoiler box. Once again, a warning: THIS JOKE IS VERY, VERY LONG! DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU!
Once you complete the reading of the joke, feel free to click on the second spoiler box, which will reveal the punch line.
I hope you enjoy.
A man was once travelling through some foreign mountains, when his car broke down. He attempted to call for a tow truck, but found that his cell phone received no reception in the mountains. He began to get worried, as a storm was coming, and the temperature was falling. He was just about to give up hope when a robed figure came walking toward his car. The man greeted this stranger, who politely greeted him back in the man's native tongue. This came as a surprise, as the man had not expected a mountain hermit to be fluent in more than the local dialect.
The man asked the stranger who he was. The stranger replied that he was a monk from a nearby monastery, and that he was here to help. The man asked the monk whether he had a working phone, to which the monk replied that while they lacked a phone, they did have a capable mechanic at their lodge, and that the man was free to stay the night while his car was repaired. No sooner had the man thanked the monk then did four more robed men appear. They all pushed the car up a small winding road that the traveller had missed, up to a large stone building nestled into the mountain. The man was then ushered inside.
Upon entry, the cold, hungry, and exhausted man was immediately draped in a warm cloak, and shown to a private room, where a change of clothes, a hot bath, and a large meal was waiting for him. The man washed up, ate heartily, and crawled into bed after once again thanking his generous hosts.
The man slept peacefully for most of the night, until at some ungodly hour, he was awakened by a strange noise coming from down the hall. The noise was nothing like anything the man had ever heard, and he was most curious as to what manner of being (or machine) could produce such a noise. Crawling out of his bed, he slipped out the door and crept down the hall. As he progressed, the noise became louder, leading him up to a massive iron door, immovable and locked tightly. He knew that behind it was the source of the strange noise; however he lacked the means to open the door. No sooner had he removed his hands from the door handle did the noise stop, and the night resumed its utter silence. Perplexed, the man walked back to his room, where he lay awake until dawn, pondering about the origin of the noise.
As the sun shone through his window, the first monk from the night before entered the room. Finding the man awake, he simply informed him that his car was fixed, the storm had abated, his clothes were clean and dry, and that he would be departing as soon as he finished breakfast. Another monk entered in behind, carrying a tray of food. A third monk followed, carrying the man's clothes, neatly folded. As the three monks turned to leave, the man stopped them.
"During the night, I heard a strange noise coming from down the hallway," he said, "It was coming from behind a giant metal door which was locked securely. I apologize for snooping, but I was wondering what manner of man or machine made such a noise?"
The three monks exchanged a knowing look, and the first monk said, "My son, the only way for you to discover the origin of that noise is to become a monk. Unless you desire to throw away your current life for our order, I would advise you to not dwell upon it, and move on with your life."
Smiling again, the monks turned and left the room, leaving the man even more vexed as he ate his breakfast. He then changed and left the room. Outside, he was joined by an escort, who led him back to the entrance of the monastery. Outside, he found his car in good working order. Not only did the car start, but all the dents had been knocked out, a good set of winter tires had been installed, the oil had been changed, new headlight bulbs had been put in, and the clutch had been replaced. Even the gas tank had been filled up. Once again thanking his generous hosts, the man drove off down the mountain. As he moved away from the monastery, his thoughts moved away from that strange noise.
For the next couple of years, the man continued his normal life. Every once in a while, he would remember that bizarre night in the mountains and the memory of the sound would come back. However, he always brushed it off as unimportant.
After a time, the man's life began to fall apart. Due to some bad decisions, his business began to deteriorate. As his savings dwindled, his marriage began to collapse. He fell into alcoholism and drug abuse, and was soon completely broke. His wife divorced him, and his investors came to collect their money. Stripped of almost everything, the man fled the country with nothing more than his car and the clothes on his back.
As he drove, he once again found himself driving along a winding (not to mention familiar) mountain path. Delirious with rage, sadness, and booze, he totalled his car trying to make a sharp turn near a small path. Miraculously, he survived the crash. As he sat pinned within his car, his final thoughts were drawn back to the monastery from years ago, and that mysterious sound he had heard. Believing he was going to die, he could do nothing but curse at his rotten luck, and hopelessly wonder what had caused that noise. Just before he lost consciousness, he saw five dark figures, apparently robed in black, headed toward his car. Then, the world fell into the abyss.
The man awoke under the covers of warm bed in a dark room. His head pounded, his ribs ached, and he was ravenously hungry. Fumbling about, the man found his way to the door. He was about to open it when he heard it.
That noise came, thrumming over and over again from somewhere in the building. The man then realized where he was - he was back in that mountain monastery.
He attempted to open the door, but found it locked tight. Dejected, he stumbled back into the bed and quickly passed into sleep again.
The man awoke again in the morning. This time, he saw the face of a familiar monk staring back at him as he opened his eyes and rolled over. He greeted his old acquaintance, and thanked him again for saving his life, though he commented that there wasn't much to save anymore. The monk only smiled and offered some bad news: despite the considerable skill of their mechanic, the man's car was beyond repair. If the man wanted to leave, he would have to arrange for other means. The man did not hesitate.
"My life is in ruins. I have no job, no family, no money, and no place to call home. All these years, every time I remembered that night here, I was haunted by that sound coming from down the hall. As I have nowhere else to turn, I would like to become a monk, to find both a place in life and to find out what in the bloody blue hell is making that noise."
The monk smiled, nodded, and said, "Or order would be happy to induct you, once you have recovered from your injuries. The path to becoming a monk of our order is a long and arduous process which many do not complete. You will need all your strength and will to make it."
A few days passed, and the man healed at a rapid pace. The monks had an astounding physician, whose simple methods were far more effective than any of the complicated processes of modern medicine. After the man was recovered, he was brought before the grandmaster of the order.
"My son," said the venerable monk, "It is my understanding that you wish to join our order. I commend your ideals, but you have much to accomplish before you are accepted as a full brother."
"I will do anything to ask, sir." said the man.
"Then, I want you to go to the bottom floor of our monastery. There, you will find our library, which contains a vast array of books on every imaginable subject. What I want you to do is to locate the section on languages, whereupon you will endeavour to become fluent, without any hint of an accent, in every dialect known to man. When you have completed this, you will be brought before me again to be tested."
The man stood slack-jawed at this request. Surely the wizened old man was simply insane? Who could possibly learn every language and variant in the world in their lifetime? Before the man could say anything, the grandmaster cut him off again.
"I know what you are thinking. This is an impossible task. But know this: every member of our order has completed this, and if you are driven enough, I know that you can as well. You are like most that come here: you want to know what is making that strange noise. Believe, me, it far more incredible than you can imagine. Now go, impress me."
Once again, the man was given no time to respond before he was forcibly removed. As he was brought down to the basement, he began to steel his resolve. He was determined to do this, and determined to discover what was making that noise. That noise. That was what drove him...
He faltered once when he first saw the bookcase, which stretched longer than a city block and was two storeys high. But he quickly pushed any thoughts of failure or regret out of his mind, and focused in on the first book.
For many years, the man sat beside the shelf, working his way through each book in turn. Night and day he studied, driven by his desire to learn the nature of the noise. His eyes began to strain, his fingers were cut by the pages of books, and his back began to ache continually from reading in a hunched position for so long. But he ignored these pains. Only the desire to uncover the noise drove him on. He lived and breathed languages - he ate little and slept none. And every night, he would hear the noise, faintly, through the layers of brick.
A decade later, the man hobbled out of the monastery library, his back hunched and his skin a clammy white. He was immediately brought before the grandmaster, who looked as if he hadn't aged a day. The man spent the next week engaging in a deep philosophical discussion with the master and the rest of the brotherhood, talking about the nature of the world in every dialect found within it. At the end of the week, the master sat back in his chair and smiled a small smile.
"You have done very well, my son. You have mastered all the languages on this great planet, and faster than anyone before you at that. The desire to learn the nature of the noise must be strong in you indeed," said the master. Reaching into his robes, the old man retrieved a small key from a hidden pocket. Holding it out to the man, he said, "Here is the key to the door in the hallway. This key is a symbol of your mastery of the world's dialects."
The man took the key and moved faster than he had in ten years, out of the master's chambers, up the stairs, and down the hall. He fumbled with the key at first, eager to open the door. He finally pushed the key into the lock, and felt the tumblers slide into place. Turning the lock, he pushed his way through the door...
Only to find a small, empty room with another identical iron door. Frustrated and confused, the man ran back to the master's chamber.
"You tricked me!" he declared, "You said that if I taught myself all those languages, that I could learn what was behind that door. Yet behind that door was another door. What is the meaning of this?"
"I made no such promise, my son. You have passed but the first test. There is more you must do."
Dejected, the man closed his eyes and regained his composure. "What is it that I have to do now, master?" he finally asked.
"You must now climb to the top of our tallest tower. There, high above the clouds, you will have a full view of the sky. And there, you will memorize the position of every star in the night sky. Do not argue; only know that this is, again, not an impossible task. Now go. Impress me yet again."
The man was once again ushered away. This time, he was brought up. And up. And up. Up until he reached a small platform, which was, as the master had said, above the clouds. Looking up at the clear blue sky, he realized that he would have to wait until nightfall before he could view the stars. He also realized he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a full decade. Nodding, he descended the stairs and entered his room, where he slept until the sun fell behind the horizon.
Forcing himself awake, the man climbed the many steps once again. When he reached the top, he was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the pinpricks of light in the night sky. Gathering all his resolve, he began to count the stars, committing each to memory as he gazed upon it.
For the next ten years, the man climbed the tower every night to look upon the starry heavens. Ever night, the bitter cold clawed at his hands and feet. Strong winds threatened to blow him over the edge of the parapet to his demise. The climb was arduous every time, and the many steps took a heavy toll on the man's joints. But he prevailed, knowing that the knowledge of the noise would be his upon completion. The noise was no longer audible from this great height, but he could sometimes hear it during the day. It beckoned him, strengthening his will to continue anew every day. Sometimes he would go and sit inside that small room, hoping to catch someone coming in or out. He never did, and had only the noise to keep him company as he sat.
At last, the man was ready to be brought before the master again. This time, when he entered the chamber, he was handed a paintbrush and was presented with a humongous canvas. The master simply said, "Paint for me every star," before sitting back in his chair to watch.
For the next week he painted on the canvas, dropping tiny dots all about it in the exact pattern as the stars appeared in the sky.
Upon completion, the grandmaster rose from his chair and inspected the canvas once over. "You have done well, my son. Once again, you have completed this task in a timeframe much smaller than anyone before you." The old man reached again into his cloak and produced a second key. "Here is the key to the door inside the small room."
The man once again snatched up the key and bounded away, ignoring the pain in his knees. He once again fumbled with the first lock. The second lock came easier. As he swung open the door, a small thought lodged into his brain. What if there was another door beyond this one?
The man's worst fears were realized when a second identical room came into view, with a third identical door cut into the wall. Once again defeated, the man went back to the master's room, this time trudging is dismay.
The man said nothing as he entered the room. He only looked at the old master. The master also said nothing, but only grinned. After a long moment of silence, the man spoke, "There is a third task, isn't there?"
"You are catching on, my son," said the grandmaster. "You are now fluent in every language known to man, and are intimately familiar with the position of every star. Using only this knowledge, I want you to go into the world and do one good thing for every tribe, race, religion, and creed in the world. This will be your final test. I will be watching. Go now."
The man had no time to protest. He was shoved out of the room, and indeed, right out of the monastery. As he walked down the winding path, he thought about how to tackle this problem, and about the noise.
For the next twenty years, the man roamed the planet, helping all those he met. He slept when he could, ate what he could find, and navigated by way of the stars. He talked to everyone he could find, discovering the just how huge the diversity of the world was. And all the while, the noise pounded in the back of his skull, urging him onwards. This was it. This was finally going to be it.
Now old and worn, the man slowly made his way back to the monastery after completing his last good deed. As he climbed the path, he could almost hear the sound grown louder. When he reached the door, it was pounding in his ear in time with his heart. He was excited. His journey was at an end. He approached the master's chambers, and opened the door. There sat the grandmaster, who smiled in greeting as if he had expected the arrival. The grandmaster said nothing, however. He only reached into his robes and withdrew another key. The man walked over and took it, then made his way back up the stairs, and down the hall, and up to the big iron door.
In went the first key. The first door swung open. He crossed the first room.
In went the second key. The second door swung open. He crossed the second room, and approached the third door.
Trembling, he brought the third key up to the lock. He paused as a wave of horror hit him. What if this wasn't the last door? What happens if it was all a lie, and that there is yet one more task? The man knew his body and mind could not handle another gruelling task such as the ones he had completed.
Worst of all, the man worried that the source of the sound would turn out to be something trivial, and that he would have wasted his life over something meaningless.
The man was jarred back to reality by the noise once again pounding through his head. Whatever was beyond this door was once again emanating the mysterious sound. Letting out a deep breath, the man inserted the key into the lock, turned it, and then opened the door.
On the other side, stood a third small room, with a fourth iron door on the end. Falling to his knees, the man put his hands over his face and gave a great sob. There was more. He had been lied to. He had another task to complete if he wanted to know about the noise. But he was too old, and he would likely die before ever knowing what was making that noise.
He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Looking up, he found himself looking at the first monk he had ever met. With a knowing smile, the monk produced a fourth key from his pocket and handed it to the man. The man stared blankly, changing intermittently between the key, the door, and the monk. All the while, the sound continued to thrum.
Rising, the man made his way to the fourth door, and pushed the key into the lock. Before turning the lock, he turned back to his fellow and asked, "Is this the last door? For real? Will I discover the source of the noise beyond this door? Or will I be left to die a broken man? What was the point of all those tasks, anyhow? Was it for your enjoyment? So you could mock me? Do you do that to all lost travellers? Lure them in with the noise, and then give them impossible tasks just so you can watch them suffer?"
"Brother," replied the monk, "Beyond that door is indeed the source of the noise. That is the final door, there is no more. That is the pure and simple truth. As for why you had to complete all those tasks, the reason will be evident once you open the door and step beyond its threshold."
The man nodded, closed his eyes, and turned the key. The door swung open wide automatically, and the man stepped through, whereupon he opened his eyes, and was enlightened.
Yes, the man's journey had ended. There, he found the source of that mysterious, intriguing noise that had haunted his thoughts and dreams for so many years.
You may be wondering what the man discovered there beyond that door. The answer is hidden below.
I am unable to tell you what the man found there, or indeed, what the source of the noise was. This is because, most obviously, you are not a monk
