Don’t Put Another Drachma In The Jukebox


What’s with the singing box?
Well, remember the old story about Orpheus going to Hell to free his girlfriend?
He looks back – WHAM! Eurydice is back in Hell. A gang of women tear Orpheus apart, and his head falls into the stream, still singing.
Some chick puts the head in a box, sells it to a joint on the island, and it becomes the first jukebox.
Here it is. Just fifty bucks.
Problem is, it sings in Greek. It sounds so painful and sad, but beautiful. Too bad I don’t know Greek.
Do you?
Oh well. Still sounds beautiful.

Art of War


“You sunk my naked chick!” yelled Bobby.
Joey laughed. “All I need is your Magritte pipe, and you’re so toast!”
Mandy and Greg smiled. They didn’t like war toys, so they figured that substituting the ships for works of art would help somehow.
Not exactly.
Twenty years later, they were in the courtroom as their sons were convicted of trying to steal Michelangelo’s David.
“I told you that the damn alarm was in B7!” growled Joey.
“I thought you said E4!” Bobby yelled back. “Asshole!”
They were sentenced to twenty years apiece
Bobby’s in cell F7. Joey’s in cell F8.

The Last Episode of Trading Spaces


Vern likes ultramodern. Those fiber-optics they hung him with sparkle nicely.
Genevieve’s always barefoot. Someone tossed poisoned carpet tacks around the living room. Oops.
Laurie loves lemons. When life hands you grenades painted like lemons… too late!
Frank’s in the kitchen, brained by a pig figurine. Supper’s ready!
Christi had bold ideas for that fireplace. They didn’t involve being charred in it, though.
Nikki’s the noble one. She drowned in the commode. Sorry – the throne. Nice gold handle, though.
Kia specializes in curtains. Now it’s curtains for Kia.
Edward won the million bucks. That’ll buy a good lawyer.



All young boys dream of flying, but Jesus really could.
That stuff really scared the crap out of Mary, Joseph, his brothers, and his sisters.
“Do you think we should tell him about the Son Of God thing?” said Mary.
“Absolutely not!” snarled Joseph. “We just need some bigger rocks to tie to his ankles.”
Twenty years later, Mary watched helplessly as they nailed her son to a wooden cross.
She wasn’t worried about him dying, though. She was just hoping the cross was heavy enough to keep him from flying around with the thing.
The spear wound brought relief.

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 12


“The council of Spartansburg is mad, Mister President!” shouted Colonel West. “They have passed a law commanding that everyone in the town must die!”
Abraham shrugged. “Who are we to doubt their angry widsom?”
“But, sir! The law must be repealed!”
“No,” Lincoln said. “Enforce the law to its fullest.”
Two days later, all were dead. Then came the torches.
Spartansburg vanished, scorched clean from the map.
Along with its law books.
Later, Lincoln surveyed the carnage. “Okay, you’re right,” he said. “I should have asked them to repeal the law instead of enforcing it strictly.”
General Sherman took notes.

The Hunt For Wilson


The diamonds that Yuri stuffed into the volleyball were priceless.
Lost in transit, said Fedex.
Years later, Yuri read: FEDEX EMPLOYEE FOUND AT SEA
After watching Chuck Noland deliver a package to some ranch, Yuri learned he had spent all that time on the island talking to Yuri’s volleyball.
Where was it?
Yuri turned on the news, sighing.
Chuck was being interviewed. Again.
“My friend just floated away,” mumbled Chuck.
“Who?” asked a reporter.
“Wilson,” said Chuck. “He was a volleyball that had a-”
Yuri switched off.
Wilson? Friend?
Should have used Airborne, he thought. Those Fedex employees are nuts.

Pants Avenger


Buddy Lee grew up.
Nobody expected him to, but as with all little boys, he did.
And he grew up fast. He outgrew his dungarees quickly, and the company no longer needed him as a spokesman.
He hit the streets hard, All those years of getting knocked around made him angry.
They made him crazy.
Buddy roamed the world, looking for people wearing those dungarees.
He swore an oath that if there was anything left of his victims, they’d be buried in them.
That’s why I wear a kilt. Buddy ignores kilt-wearers.
And I’ve got the knees for it, too.