Category: Halloween

Usually, on Halloween, it’s kids going around the neighborhood, begging for candy.
But with the pandemic and businesses closing and people losing their jobs, they’re going around begging for money and food.
And they have their parents with them.
So, we turned the porch light off, closed the garage, and turned off the doorbell.
Which, on second thought, was a bad idea, making people think we weren’t at home.
Yeah, they tried to kick in the door to rob our house.
So, we treated them to two rounds of buckshot.
They got their candy and backsides x-rayed all at once.

Every now and then, a visitor to the Holy Land will lose their mind, act like they’re Jesus or some other holy figure, and cause a ruckus.
Experts call this Jerusalem Syndrome, and it’s usually just some other condition like schizophrenia or paranoia manifesting itself.
And then, there’s the times when a visitor to Graceland will lose their mind, act like they’re Elvis or Priscilla or The Colonel, and cause a ruckus.
Experts call this Nashville Syndrome.
Well, publicly.
Amongst themselves, they stick out their tongue, roll their eyes, and wiggle their finger next to their ear.
Experts are pricks.

Old Man Morley built himself one of those underground houses.
They say that’s better cooling, but it’s not good for lighting.
He put in a skylight in the living room. and there were solar panels and fiber optics to carry in sunlight.
And he had some plasma televisions here and there for scenery.
The energy savings he had from building underground was more than offset by the energy costs of the televisions and lights.
And a security system to deal with the tourists, of course.
Trick or treaters would bang on the skylight, demanding Snickers.
Morley turned out the lights.

Where does Victor get his ideas from?
He gets his ideas from the well in the woods.
Armed with a sword, he goes there every morning with a bucket.
Along the way, he dumps out any bad ideas left in the bucket.
Then, when he gets to the well, he sends the bucket down and pulls it back up with fresh ideas.
The problem is, those bad ideas find root in the darkness of the woods.
And they grow… and grow…
One day, a bad idea whispered in Victor’s ear…
“You don’t need that sword.”
We haven’t seen Victor since.

Doctor Frankenstein told Igor to throw the switch.
Igor was good at throwing the switch.
As a child, he practiced throwing the switch all day and all night.
Got merit badges in throwing the switch when he was a scout.
He majored in throwing the switch back in college.
And apprenticed in a switch manufacturing factory as a tester to get practical experience.
Just for the moment when he’d be asked to throw it.
“I DON’T NEED YOUR WHOLE DAMN BIOGRAPHY, IGOR!” yelled Frankenstein. “THROW THE SWITCH!”
Igor said “Yes, Master!” and pressed the button that had replaced the switch.

They say that you can only kill a werewolf with a silver bullet.
But any silver will do.
Parson Reginald used a silver mirror like a knife.
He also used a silver knife.
Maxwell used a silver hammer to bash in their brains.
Perhaps you’ve heard the song?
Silver arrow heads, silver cigarette stems, silver serving platters.
They all work.
We’ve tested it all, here at the lab.
We obtain werewolves, and we kill them with all kinds of silver things.
Why do our guards carry guns with silver bullets?
They’re easier to use than all that over weird crap.

Bob came up with the best costume for Halloween.
“This is going to be hard to make,” said his mother.
“I’m going to make it myself,” said Bob.
He studied all kinds of books on fashion and design.
And he watched a bunch of tutorials on Lynda’s website, free through his library card.
But Trick or Treat was cancelled that year because of the pandemic.
Still, he was able to get his mother to take photos and he posted them on TikTok and all the social media, and he texted them to his friends.
They texted back photos of candy.

If you’re feeling sick, don’t go to bed.
Sure, when you’re sick, the bed you’re in is a sickbed.
Are you sure it’s a sick bed?
It could be a deathbed.
And that’s where you’ll die.
Yes, you’ve been sleeping in that bed for years.
Not knowing that it’s actually a deathbed.
What about a daybed? Can a daybed be a sickbed or a deathbed?
Yes. Yes it can.
You won’t see it on the label, though.
And there’s no testing for it.
The only way you’ll find out is if you get sick.
Or, I suppose, if you die.

I love to plant flowers and herbs and vegetables.
This house has a big yard. And a bitch of a neighbor.
She rips out the herbs. She thinks they are ugly.
She rips out the rose bushes. She thinks they are too showy.
So, I planted climbing roses, the ones with thorns.
Let her try to pull those out.
And I invited her over for a visit.
Pointed to my garden.
And told her when she dies, I will plant all of this on her grave.
And she’s welcome to reach up from Hell and pull them down with her.

They call it the phone booth of the winds.
A phone booth set on a cliff in Japan by the ocean.
People come to the phone to call the dead.
They tell the dead not to worry about them, but they should.
They tell the dead that they miss them, and they should.
They tell the dead they will see them again soon, and they will.
And they hang up the phone, cry their tears, and step out of the booth.
Then they run to the cliff and leap over, to lose themselves in the ocean.
The phone never rings.