Super Rage Quit

I was there when Superman said he would never fly again.
“I’m never going to fly again,” he said. “Ever.”
Then he took off his cape, tossed it in the trash, and walked to The Daily Planet.
“I QUIT!” he shouted.
It took them a few minutes to realize that he was Clark Kent.
Then he did a few interviews and speaking engagements for money. Even posed in Playgirl.
“Easy money,” he said. He thought about selling his services to the highest bidder, but he decided to stay retired.
“If you monkeys screw this planet, I’ll just fly to Mars.”


What was the name of the Wicked Witch?
Which one?
The West one was the one played by Margaret Hamilton, right?
They dropped the house on her sister from the East.
Well, they never said the name of the one from the West.
But The Wicked Witch of the East was named Ding Dong.
All those midgets sang “Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead” right?
The witch down the street is named Olivia.
She turns kids into frogs.
Especially those who throw buckets of water at her, or use the garden hose.
I once set off her lawn sprinklers.

The horse and the men

For centuries, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse owned just one horse.
This arrangement worked out great for when there was just War or Death doing on, but sometimes there were two or three of them on that horse.
Or, when things were particularly bad, all four.
Not only was the load unbearable, but as civilization spread and got more complicated, they had a lot more ground to cover.
The lone horse didn’t particularly like that arrangement, so the gang got three more horses.
Nowadays, they each have several horses. And they’ve hired a full-time vet, trainer, and stable manager.

Red Goes Green

Back in the day, Little Red Riding Hood would walk through the woods to visit her grandmother.
But now that Little Red Riding Hood is a grandmother, do her grandchildren come and visit her?
Hardly, and they don’t call, either. Or send letters.
Maybe they send a birthday card now and then. And they say they send emails, but Red doesn’t know how use email, or the Skype or any of those things.
The Big Bad Wolf was long dead, and he didn’t have any grandkids.
Same with the Woodsman.
Red sat on the porch, smoked joints, and read books.


As he neared the age of fifty, Don Quixote grew weary of endless adventure and battles.
“Go home to your island,” he told his companion Sancho.
Quixote rode his horse Rocinante one last time down the main road, and settled into the old Quijano Estate.
“Please, come back,” wrote his beloved Dulcinea.
But he never did.
Quixtoe hung up his lance, hammered the helmet of The Knight Of The White Moon into a shaving basin, and quietly read books.
“Fight us!” hissed the giants on the hills.
But they were long since dead, and their skeletons turned in the breeze.

Sleep Well

I don’t sleep well.
And I don’t like sleeping pills.
So, I my doctor sent me to a sleep clinic.
They stuck wires on my head and hooked me to a computer.
It wasn’t easy to get to sleep, but the bed was so comfortable and the place was very relaxing.
When I woke up, the computer said it was elves.
You can’t do anything about that.
So, I redecorated my bedroom with the same bed, same wallpaper, and same computer.
Sticking wires on my head.
Everything is the same.
Plus, shitloads of mousetraps scattered on the floor.
Goddamned elves.


Tina flew a lot, but she didn’t like to read books or watch movies or listen to music.
Instead, she liked to knit. And she was really good at it.
She knitted sweaters and socks. On really long flights, she’d knit a blanket. Or something even more complex.
After 9/11, knitting needles were banned on flights, and Tina couldn’t stand the boredom.
So, she knitted her own plane. And pilot.
She flew around the world in her knitted private plane, knitting without end.
Eventually, she knit her own little world.
She lived happily ever after… until her cat unraveled everything.