Tag: dirty

Trademark

636181

In all the signals the aliens sent us, there was never a harsh word or a profanity uttered.
Completely friendly.
It wasn’t until their delegation landed and their people walked around did we realize it was going to be an issue.
You see, in their language, many corporation names and trademarked brands were the most vile things imaginable.
“Coke” was a revolting sexual act.
“Disney” was scatological in nature.
“Ford” was akin to genocide.
And so on.
So, eventually, they gave up on our planet and went on to the next one.
While we drank our Cokes and waved goodbye.

Toaster Affair

636186

She’s been buying a lot of bread lately.
Two, three loaves a week.
Then, this week, ten. And the week’s not over yet.
Know what I think? I think she”s having an affair with the toaster.
Not that I blame her. It”s a really, really nice toaster.
Shiny, too.
It’s got a lifetime warranty, but with all the bread she’s running through the poor thing, she’s burning it up.
I watch her pull out the crumb catcher tray and pour it out in the trash.
The way she puts it back “slowly”
At least it’s not the smoke alarm anymore.

Put Em On The Glass

636191

Arnold requested that they put his name on the door to his office, but the office manager kept declining it.
So, he’d write his name in dry-erase marker on the glass door.
The janitor would come by after hours and wipe the glass clean.
This went on for years. Other employees got their names on their doors, but even when Arnold got promoted up the ranks, he never did.
Finally, Arnold outranked the office manager and demanded to know why his requests were declined.
“What the hell do you expect with a last name like Shitfucker?” said the office manager.

Punisher

636180

The Mystic Sisters have a good racket going.
One’s a punisher for hire, taking clients down into her dungeon and beating them within an inch of their lives.
A few days later, they see the fortune-teller sister, the one who read bruises instead of palms.
Sometimes, guys go into the dungeon but don’t go to the fortune-teller. Other times, they see the fortune-teller, but they got their bruises elsewhere.
And then, well, one day, the punisher limps into her sister’s house. She’s got two black eyes.
“Save the bullshit and just get me some ice,” she says.

Way With Words

636186

Felix’s novels were a War Crime against Literature. So, for these crimes, he was banished to the circle of despised Literary Critics.
He didn’t just have a way with words – he had his way with words. In the worst possible way, in the back of his unmarked white van.
When he was done with them, he’d send his article to the publisher and leave the bloody, sweaty, shivering words on a playground for the children to discover.
His headstone will be blank. No words would associate with this monster, and no numbers are brave enough to cross the picket lines.

Jersey Girl

636183

Shirley the Mermaid had been around. She’d seen everything.
She and the girls were getting their nails done when they talked about their first times.
The first time Shirley saw a human, she swam after it for a closer examination.
It looked like a mermaid, but instead of fins, it had two limbs coming out of its hips leading into a solid stone-like block.
“Mob informant,” she thought. “Should have kept his goddamed trap shut.”
She took his wallet, emptied out the cash, and swam away.
Whether you’re over or under the Boardwalk, a Jersey Girl is a Jersey Girl.

The Cello Player

637129

Few things are certain in life.
Most of all, of the things you can count on, I’m most certain that you’ll never hear a chick say “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m fucking the cello player.”
Guitarists, singers, bass players.
Even drummers, if you can imagine that.
But when it comes to cello players, they’re the ones that haul their cellos up five flights of stairs into a lonely, cramped apartment.
Nobody knocks. Nobody calls.
More time for practice, right?
I guess so.
But no matter how good he gets, no chick will say “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m fucking the cello player.”

Carried Away

636184

I was doing a math problem the other night when I had to carry the seven.
So, I did. Up the stairs and into the bedroom.
I performed horrible, unspeakable acts upon that seven, things that would be illegal if I had done them in fourteen states.
Then, I carried the seven to the hospital, because it wasn’t breathing.
The doctors said that I was an idiot – sevens don’t breathe.
So, I carried the seven home and finished the math problem.
I’m working on another math problem. This time, I have to carry a one.
A thick, strong, sexy one.

The Scissors

636184

Hi, my name is Roy. I have a pair of scissors.
They’re big sharp scissors, with thick plastic handles.
Hold them up, and they look like eyes.
Open the scissors and it looks like a bird’s beak. Or a mouth.
I open and close the scissors, and it looks like it’s talking.
Then I played a song by Britney Spears on my radio, and it looked like the scissors were singing.
My scissors were singing like Britney Spears.
I love Britney Spears. She’s so hot.
I wonder if they give head like Britney Spears, too.
Oh, okay… let’s find out!

Calendars

636181

Okay, so you got a bunch of calendars for Christmas and you don’t know which to use when the New Year rolls around, right?
Well, you could use them all, but that would cover all your walls. And windows. And floors. And ceilings. And-
You get the point.
On the other hand, you could use just one,. But when someone comes over and sees you’re not using their calendar, they’ll say “You’re not using the calendar I gave you for Christmas? I thought you liked puppies!”
Well, I do, but hey – check out the puppies on Miss January. Oh, momma.