Dave’s sons were at his funeral, in chains and guarded by marshals.
Now, when I say sons, I really mean genetic clones.
Dave grew them in his twenties and raised them as his sons, but an accident at work left him crippled and sick.
His doctors told him they could replace what was damaged with donor material from his sons.
So, he invited them to dinner, drugged them, and faked signatures on consent forms.
When they awoke, they found themselves weary and mutilated.
One was dead, missing his heart and liver.
They had their savage revenge on the medical Uranus.
Tag: crime
Moving Hassles
I really hate moving.
It’s such a hassle, packing and loading and unloading and unpacking and filing claims and all that crap.
Now when I get a new place, I pay someone to steal all my stuff.
Then, I report it and the insurance company pays to replace it.
All new stuff shows up at my new place by delivery van, and for a few bucks, they assemble and set it all up.
Except one thing… the guys I paid to rob me found out where I live, and they robbed me again.
Oh well.
Let’s go out to eat.
Conversion
Frank had told Tony and Vinny to beat the punk to within an inch of his life to teach him a lesson.
So when he heard that his goons had beaten the guy to death, he was pissed.
“What the hell did you two do that for?” he yelled.
“Sorry, boss,” said Tony. “Vinny’s trying to teach me this new Metric System they got in France, so we tried converting centermeters to inches and all that, and we kinda went too far.”
Frank hung them both in a meat locker set to minus forty degrees.
Same in Fairyheight and Celtsius.
Strawberries
Molly didn’t bother with a lawn around her house.
Instead, she had one big strawberry patch.
She raised strawberries year-round, making jams and preserves with them, or just filling up baskets, and giving those out as gifts to everyone.
Everyone thinks the scent in the evening is wonderful.
Except for one guy: Carl.
He was allergic to strawberries, and he threatened to sue.
One day, Carl vanished. Nobody ever saw him again.
But I suspect that Molly keeps him in some of those jars in her basement.
Good. Because he was an asshole.
And nobody liked him.
Thank you, Molly.
The Real Torture
We told the Red Cross that the prisoner had died and the corpse was quarantined due to a virulent disease needing containment and decontamination.
We told the prisoner that the world thought he was dead, and we could do anything we wanted to do to him.
And we did.
It’s been nine years, but he’s still alive, still providing information.
Sure, it’s utter crap and totally worthless, but it’s highly imaginative and very interesting.
We hand the transcripts to the television producers, they punch it up, and get it filmed in a week.
And that’s how the Kardashians became famous.
Theater
The old theater was in ruins.
The mayor was an architect, and he drew up plans to revive it.
His wife was good with numbers, and she applied for grants, loan guarantees and stimulus money.
Her brother was a contractor. Another brother handled materials and supplies.
Cousins got hired on to handle the labor, the electric, the pipes, and the rest of the building.
They handled the parking lot, sidewalks, landscaping, and trees, too.
The grand opening was scheduled, posters went up, and so did the theater… in flames.
The mayor’s son sold insurance, and they all vanished like smoke.
Job Market
The job market out there is tough, and everybody’s beefing up their resume with exaggerations and lies.
Me, I’m beefing up my resume with beef.
I started by sending my resume with the finest steaks packed in a cooler with dry ice.
The recruiter threw out the resume and ate the steaks.
Then, I developed a special dye to etch my resume on to the steaks.
The writing vanished as the steaks cooked.
Finally, I made sheets of jerky and printed the resume on those.
By then, the recruiter had died of a heart attack.
And I got his job.
Smith’s Crooks
The Smith Administration was the most corrupt in modern history.
Congress is still trying to sort out the books to figure out where all the money went.
The largest chunk of it wound up in the pockets of Smith’s old college friends who he’d appointed ambassadors.
Unlike the campaign contributors who received the plum assignments of France and England and Berlin, these guys were posted to Oz, Narnia, and Mordor.
That’s right. They’d picked the names out of children’s books.
Sure, these crooks should be tried, but Justice won’t get involved because we don’t have extradition treaties with those places.
Triple
Vinnie Double Chin’s laid up in the hospital.
Another heart attack.
Which isn’t such a surprise, because he’s at least five hundred pounds and eats five times a day.
When they tried to sink him in the river, the cement truck ran out before they could make his shoes big enough to fit.
Doctor says he needs a triple bypass.
So what does he do?
He calls up Cousin Vito, tells them they can bury witnesses under the freeway they’re building in his chest!
I hope he makes it.
Because I don’t want to be a pallbearer lifting that coffin.
A Scandal In Atlanta
The superintendent of the school district called his principals.
After the cheating scandal, he ordered the teachers not to erase and correct student answers on the scanning forms.
The union rep kept them from getting fired, the lawyers all shook hands, and everybody went back to work.
Time passed, a new round of testing happened.
This time, the teachers got caught marking the answers on forms before they handed them to the students.
“It’s not erasing,” said the union rep.
So, the superintendent filled in a wire transfer form and sent their salaries to an account in Aruba.
And vanished.