Tag: silly

If I Only Had a Lawyer

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Jane and I grabbed the wet Brooks Brothers suit and excused ourselves from the conference room.
“What do we do now?” Jane said. “We need a lawyer!”
I look around, and I noticed a hay bale in the lobby.
“Why is that there?” asks Jane.
“Who cares?” I said. “Let’s try it!”
We fill the suit with straw, chant the spells, and the Scarelawyer leaps to his feet.
“I shall represent you to the best of my ability!” he says, and we head back in.
Two hours later, we strike a deal.
That’s the last time we build a Snowlaywer.

E Is For

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“E is for Elephant” mutters Robot over and over, holding his glass-and-silicon head in his metal-and-rubber hands.
Lisa was trying to teach Robot the alphabet again, but for some reason, Robot obsesses on Elephants.
“Why do you like elephants so much?” we asked Robot.
“Because E is for Elephant,” announces Robot, and he’s back in the loop, muttering.
Frank gave Robot a stuffed elephant yesterday, and Robot tore it to bits.
Lisa thinks Robot is broken, but I think Frank’s behind this loop.
He looks at the shredded elephant and worries.
Because, as we all know, F is for Frank.

Career Move

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I put my thumb on the scanner and hold it there for two minutes.
*BING*
“You are a Pirate,” said the Career-o-matic kiosk. “Congratulations.”
Earlier today, this thing told me I was a Surgeon.
“Please return items from previous Career,” said the machine.
I stuffed the bloody surgical scrubs and malpractice lawsuit documents into the disposal slot.
Whirring. A slight warm breeze.
“Please remove new Career items,” said the machine.
Reaching into the slot, I pulled out an eyepatch, cutlass, and a parrot.
“What’s the eyepatch for?” I asked.
The parrot flapped his wings and hit me in the eye.

Waiter, Waiter

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Like many menus, this menu has a key for spiciness.
More peppers, spicier dish.
It ranges from one to five peppers, but there’s no five-pepper dishes listed.
I ask the waiter, and he turns the menu to the last page.
It’s been torn out.
“Too dangerous,” he mutters. “Chef removed.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said. “Bring me something from that list.”
The kitchen fills with shouting, pots and pans thrown around.
Ten minutes later, the waiter comes out in Hazmat gear, holding a steaming plate of bubbling orange goop.
I ask him what wine goes with it.
He faints.

The Heroes

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Every town needs a Hero. It’s the law.
But somehow, those assholes at the ACLU got the courts to rule that the word “A” means “Only one Hero will be allowed in each town.”
Population wasn’t factored in when the law was passed, so even big cities like Metropolis and Gotham only get one hero.
Crime rates skyrocketed. The people cried out for help.
But Heroes face stiff fines and jail time if they don’t allow themselves to be relocated to Hero-less towns across the country.
Those who resisted by going vigilante were hunted down.
By the Heroes, of course.

Calvin and Dinner

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The wonderful thing about tiggers is that they taste delicious.
Ever eaten a tigger? No?
My oh my, if you haven’t eaten a tigger, you just haven’t lived.
It’s been a while since I’ve eaten one. In fact, it’s been a while since I’ve seen one.
Have you see any tiggers recently?
No?
I haven’t either.
I keep putting out tigger bait on my tigger traps, but at the end of the day, there’s no tiggers in the tigger traps.
Once, I caught a tiger named Hobbes, but he tasted awful.
I hope I don’t catch any more of those.

Shooter

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Joe’s always cracking jokes.
He can’t even go to the bathroom without making a pun.
His favorite is “I’m going to make a deposit at the Bank of American Standard.”
He also bombs Porcelain Harbor a lot.
I told him I was sick of his puns, so he said he was going to shoot himself.
The bathroom door slammed before I could say anything.
We called the police, they sent negotiators, and to make a long story short, he walks out of the bathroom, flipping through his digital camera’s stored images.
“Chip’s full,” he said. “Can I borrow your printer?”

The Face Of God

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Things were getting loud, hot, and heavy between me and Mary again.
“The absence of visible evidence of God disproves his existence!” shouted Mary.
Philosophy again?
Great.
“Well, I’ve never seen your tits, either,” I shouted back. “But from the curve in your sweater and how they feel in the dark, I can reason they exist.”
Mary put down her books, lifted her sweater, and I saw The Face Of God.
“Hi there,” He said.
Mary pulled her sweater back down, slapped me, and walked away.
You know, now that I think of it, I never did see her tits.

Let Him Dangle

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Kathy bought 78 canvases a few weeks ago.
It’s for a project of hers – she wants to paint the Tarot.
She could paint them up from memory, but she’s insisting on posing me as a model.
This week, we’ve been doing The Hanged Man.
Kathy may be having fun, but it really sucks to be me.
The blood rushes to my head and gives me migraines. Then I got rope burns on my ankle… until the rope came loose.
The studio has concrete floors… ouch!
But if you think this is bad, the next card’s the Ten Of Swords.

End Of Lifed

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When a server needs its drive image reloaded, we pull the old hard drive and stick a new one in there with the drive image already on it.
Well, when I say new, I really mean new to that server.
The old hard drives have to come from somewhere, right? They’re drives that are yanked from other servers, wiped clean, and then have new software loaded back on them.
And they’re marked with a tally-mark.
When a drive gets twenty-five tally marks, like this one here, it’s end-of-lifed.
Come on, pass me the hammer.
This sucker’s gonna get it good.