On the one hand, I’m fascinated by the beautiful things that talented Etch-a-Sketch artists create.
On the other hand, it’s just a fucking toy.
Okay, so not everybody can spend three hours twiddling those knobs to make the Mona Lisa or Mount Rushmore, but all it takes is one shake, and it’s back to a blank slate.
That’s when I saw the breaking news:
MASSIVE EARTHQUAKE STRIKES SOUTH DAKOTA
Video from the scene revealed that the memorial at Mount Rushmore had shattered and collapsed.
I sighed and shrugged.
At least the Mona Lisa was done with oils and canvas, right?
Tag: tragedy
Turning The Knife
The priestess didn’t struggle or fight when I dragged her to the river and shoved her head under.
The water was so clear, her face so calm and her eyes staring back into mine.
So calm.
I let go of her, but she didn’t get up. She stayed under the water.
I pulled her up and back to the shore, our clothes soaking wet.
“How did you stay so calm?” I said.
That was when she drew a dagger from under her cloak and stabbed me in the chest.
“I was never in any danger,” she said, turning the knife.
Tattoo
Long ago, I got so drunk, I woke up with a new tattoo.
It was a devil wrapped around an anchor, surrounded by flames.
I got it on my right arm, and when I flexed my muscles, the devil wiggled his tongue and the flames flared up around him.
However, last night, I got so drunk, I lost my tattoo.
And the arm it was on.
The surgeons said there was no hope of reattaching it. Just too mangled up, so I’m going to be fitted with a prosthetic arm.
Maybe I’ll think about getting the tattoo printed on it.
Elegantly
Lying in his hospital bed, Albert Einstein, the smartest man in the world, was dying.
He coughed, smiled and told the doctors “I want to go when I want. It is tasteless to prolong life artificially. I have done my share, it is time to go. I will do it elegantly.”
They nodded respectfully and left the room.
The next morning, he was dead.
Nobody knows Albert Einstein’s last words because he spoke them in German, but the nurse at his bedside only spoke English.
However, I suspect he was saying “Get that pillow off of my face, you bitch!”
Pageant
When I was in school, a teacher thought it would look cool to have crepe paper ribbons tied to our wrists for the Thanksgiving Pageant.
As we moved our arms for the song, the ribbons crinkled and waved.
Some kids tripped over them. Others got behind other kids and tried to strangle them.
Because they were crepe paper, they’d snap, so no kids got hurt when they tripped, and no kids ended up strangled.
The teacher, on the other hand, was found hanging from their belt in the bathroom.
For Christmas Pageant, the substitute just had us sing Jingle Bells.
Horse
Growing up, I didn’t have a basketball hoop and backboard over the garage.
It wouldn’t have made sense. The driveway was at a 15 degree angle.
Instead, several of our neighbors had them, including one on a pole in the cul-de-sac our driveway connected to.
It didn’t matter, though. I sucked at basketball.
Even without the dribbling, I lost enough times at Horse to provide mounts for all of Genghis and Kublai Khan’s armies.
So, how did I get that varsity letter in basketball?
It’s for women’s basketball. My high school girlfriend.
She left it to me in her will.
When I’m dead
I can’t decide.
Do I want to be buried and get a tombstone with “THIS SIDE UP” engraved on the bottom?
Do I want to be cremated with dozens of firecrackers shoved up my ass?
Do I want my lifeless corpse tossed to the carnivorous animals at the zoo?
I came up with a list of all kinds of interesting things I’d want done to my corpse.
Then, I had myself cloned.
Not so I can live on, mind you. What’s the point of that?
It’s so I can have all of these things done to me after I’m dead!
The Spice Of Lifeless
I used to like spicy and hot foods.
Adding a bit of Tabasco to the ranch dressing dip for carrots and celery kicked things up
The problem is, spicy foods don’t like me anymore.
It doesn’t take much for me to blast out half of my intestinal tract in a disgusting, bloody, and smelly mess.
So, I started a food diary, and measured my reactions to various things.
Tabasco…gone.
Picante… gone.
Vietnamese pepper sauce… gone.
The refrigerator got emptier and emptier.
Pretty soon, it was just romaine lettuce, yogurt and cottage cheese.
I think I’ll go drink drain cleaner now.
Pampered
I had two cats.
She had two cats.
When we got married, that made four.
They all lived happy lives.
One died.
Then another.
And so did a third.
Their ashes are in nice velvet bags on the shelf.
When the fourth finally died, he came back in a nice box, with his name stamped on a shiny metal plate.
My wife asked the pet cemetery staff if we could get the others their own boxes and names stamped on shiny metal plates.
You know. Upgrades.
Even after they’re dead, we still pamper and spend money on these little guys.
Skates
I met an ogre named Wilson.
We became friends.
I introduced him to my other friends.
They welcomed him into our circle of friends.
We went to the movies.
We went out for pizza.
We watched a baseball game.
But when we went roller-skating, they didn’t have any shoes Wilson’s size.
We took turns sitting with Wilson as he watched the others skate.
We tried to make roller-skates his size, and they fit great.
Wilson took a few steps…. and he fell on his ass.
We laughed.
Wilson didn’t. And he attacked the village.
Go get your pitchforks and torches.