Ping Pong Joke- Revamped

"You ever here the one about the wealthy man and the orange feather quills?"
"Umm... No?"
Well, a day before his 15th birthday, the son of a wealthy man was asked by his father, `My son, what would you like for your birthday?'

The son hesitated a moment and his father's thoughts leapt ahead to a new abacus and similar things. However, his son had had a new abacus only recently and could have a new one any time he wished.

Finally, the son said, `Father, I have everything a boy could wish for, but there is one thing I would really like. I would love to have an orange feather quill.'

The father was rather astonished at this wish, but said, `If it is an orange feather quill that you want, an orange feather quill you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his bithday present an orange feater quill.

The boy took the quill to his room and the next morning the orange feather quill was gone. The father was mildly surprised but decided not to say anything. The orange feather quill, however, was never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 16th birthday, the father asked his son what he would like for his birthday.

`Father,' replied the son, `I have everything a boy could possibly wish for, but there is one thing I would really, really like. I would love to have a dozen orange feather quills.'

The father was more surprised than the year before, but kept his curiosity at bay, for he knew that his son had a right for privacy. he said therefore, `If it is a dozen orange feather quills that you want, a dozen orange feather quills you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a dozen orange feather quills.

The boy took the quills to his room and the next morning, not a single quill remained. The father wondered where twelve orange feather quills might disappear to, but decided not to say anything. The orange feather quills, however, were never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 17th birthday, the son was asked by his father what he would like for his birthday.

`Father,' said the son to this, `I have everything a boy could wish for, but one thing would make my happiness complete. I would dearly want a crate of orange feather quills.'

The father was beyond surprise, but decided to make sure he had not misheard. `A crate of orange feather quills?'

`A crate of orange feather quills,' the boy confirmed.

`I can't understand your fascination with orange feather quills,' said the father, `but if it is a crate of orange feather quills that you want, it is a crate of orange feather quills that you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the boy was given as his birthday present a crate of orange feather quills.

The boy was delighted and took the crate to his room. The next day, miraculously (as if by magic, even) the orange feather quills had all disappeared.

`Dear son,' said the father, `I must ask now, what do you do with all those orange feather quills?'

The son, however, was reluctant to tell him. `Please humour me, dear father.'

The crate of orange feather quills, however, was never seen again.

The next year, it was clear that the son would get a horse, but the father felt that, perhaps, his son also had some other wish apart from the obvious. So, one day before the son's 18th birthday, the father asked him whether he had a special wish for his birthday.

`Dearest father,' the son started, `I have everything a young man could possibly want, but there is one craving in me. I would, more than anything, want a storehouse full of orange feather quills.'

One of these years, his father thought, I should get to the bottom of this. However, he decided to humour his son's wish.

The next day, the son was given the address of a storehouse where all his new orange feather quills were stored. The son was delighted and decided to spend the next night in the storehouse rather than at home.

The following morning, the son stepped out of the storehouse, but it seemed to be empty otherwise. The father had a closer look and indeed, apart from empty boxes, nothing was left inside the storehouse. No orange feather quills were left.

The following year, one day before the son's 19th birthday, the father braced himself for another storehouse of orange feather quills. He asked his son what his deepest desire was and he had not been entirely wrong.

`Father, you have made me very happy these last years and this year I ask of you a shipload of orange feather quills if at all possible.'

It was possible.

The next day, the father took his son to the harbour and showed him a huge ship and told his son that there were millions, billions, trillions of orange feather quills in there.

`Father,' the son said, `You've made me very happy yet again.'

That night, the son spent on board the ship.

The next morning, not a single of the orange feather quills could be found, but the son was happy.

A few days before his 20th birthday, however, the son had a terrible accident and was taken to the healer.

His father visited the young man at the healer's. `My dear son! Can I bring you anything to make you feel better?'

Weakly, the son sat up in bed. `Father, dearest father, grant me this wish; just one dozen orange feather quills.'

The father held his son's hand tightly. `Whatever you wish my son, but I have to give you one condition. Even if it may be embarrassing, I must know what you did with all those orange feather quills.'

`Very well, father, but please indulge me first. I will tell you whatever you wish to know after you have given me the twelve orange feather quills.'

The father thought that was fair enough and the next day brought his son the twelve orange feather quills. The son smiled weakly but seemed too weak to talk.

`Son, I leave these orange feather quills with you and shall come back tomorrow to ask of you what you have done with all those orange feather quills.'

The son nodded weakly.

The next day, less than surprisingly, no orange feather quills could be found in the son's room.

`Now, my dearest son, apple of my eye, treasure of my life, please tell me what you did with all those orange feather quills,' the father requested.

The son nodded and the father gripped his hand tighter.

`I-' the son started and sat up a bit, swallowing with a dry mouth.

`I- I-'

Then he died."
"..."

1165 words!