Tag: dirty

Buzzed

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Gene Krantz’s cigarette fell from his lips and bounced off of his console.
“What the fuck did Neil say?” he asked.
“Houston to Eagle, repeat,” said Mission Control.
“I’m King Of The Moon!” said Neil Armstrong. “Bow down to the King Of The Moon!”
“Maybe Buzz slipped him something?” asked a doctor.
The cameras showed the mad astronaut advancing on another with a probe. “I dub thee Sir Aldrin!”
“Back off, Neil!” shouted Buzz Aldrin, scampering back up the ladder.
“Cut the feed,” said Gene. “Thank God for the tape delays. We’ll just go with what we filmed last month.”

Lighter

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Howard spent a lot of money on his silver torch-style lighter, so he wasn’t about to give it up when he went through airport security.
“Can’t I just get it checked?” he asked the TSA agent. “I’m late for my damn flight.”
“It’s too late for that,” said the agent. “Please surrender the item and proceed through the detector.”
Howard argued with the agent for a minute, and it ended with “Well, if you’re so worried, how about the lighter I’ve got hidden up my ass?”
Howard took a later flight. He also asked for a blanket to sit on.

The Dollar Coin Dolly

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I hate to burst your bubble, but Sacagawea was no guide or translator.
She was just a common filthy street whore.
Lewis and Clark bought her off of that Charbonneau guy, dressed her up like an Indian, and “explored” her rotten every mile of the Missouri and back.
The whole “Indian Guide” story? Just a ruse for getting the government to pick up the expense.
Jean Baptiste was a wooden doll, meant to fool the natives into thinking Lewis and Clark were civilized folk.
It’s in the Smithsonian, unless they incinerated it to keep the real story from getting out.

Some stains

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Some stains don’t come out easily.
No, I’m not talking about grape juice stains. We get enough of those in the clothes people donate through us.
I’m talking about spiritual stains. Echoes of misery and agony, soaked into the fabric beyond the reach of any detergent.
Put on a haunted suit, the wedding goes bad.
Put on a haunted ball cap, you get headaches.
Put on a haunted dress, your tits sag.
That’s why we use a laundry that has a full-time exorcist on staff. Removes the curses.
But if you don’t pay, we can always put them back in.

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 55

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General Grant slid the card across the table to his Commander In Chief and winked.

Abe looked at it:

“HOUSE OF PAIN”

“They’re good,” said Grant. “They’ve got S&M clubs here in Washington, New York, Boston, and Atlanta. Made Sherman think twice about burning the city down.”

Abe slid it back to Grant.

“As I would not be a slave,” said Abraham Lincoln. “So I would not be a master.”

“Fine,” Grant said. “Your loss. I’ll take Stanton this weekend.”
Abe left the room, went upstairs, and put on his diaper.

“I want my bottle!” he shouted.

Mary Todd sighed.

Arby’s lies?

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So I’m watching television and this commercial comes on for Arby’s. It’s got Hulk Hogan’s voice, but some kind of pipsqueak as a body double.
Anyway, the commercial is for their chicken sandwiches, and the big thing they’re hyping is the fact that they are now 100% real chicken.
Well, if it’s 100% real chicken now, what the fuck was it made out of before? Beavers? Particle board? Yarn wrapped around tungsten ingots? WHAT????
Instead of selling me on their new product, they have me questioning their other products.
Is it real cheddar in the beef and cheddar?
We’ll see.

Shadowplay

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There’s this bar Downtown that features exotic dancers, but they are only visible behind backlit scrims. The patrons are treated to the erotic display of shadows, while the owners can claim that the patrons aren’t actually seeing the nude performers.
Nothing is exposed, no flesh is visible at all. Technically, everything’s legal, and everybody’s happy.
Well, not everybody. There’s always somebody.
They balked, claiming some kind of harm, demanding that they stop the titillating shows at once.
The bar owner refused to back down and fought them in court.
After extensive and painstaking research by the judge, the owner won.

No Exit

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Toby spent all afternoon eating popcorn, peanuts, and cotton candy at the county fair.
Watching the clowns tumble and joke under the big top, the midway feast now wanted out.
As she ran for the exit, a spotlight shone on her and the ringmaster grabbed her hand.
“Let me go,” she said.
“Ever rode a horse?” he said, grinning. “I’m hung like one.”
The crowd roared, the world spun, and Toby heaved up everything she’d ever eaten.
She woke up in a pile of hay, covered with clown makeup.
The ringmaster turned out to be hung more like a shrimp.

The Wacky Adventures Of Abraham Lincoln 46

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Grant nearly choked on his flask. “What do you mean he wants to know what brand of whiskey I drink?”
“I’m not sure,” said his secretary. “Someone in the press called you a drunk, and Lincoln asked what brand you drink so he can give it to his other generals.”
“So they’ll run out of it?” asked Grant.
“No,” said the secretary. “He’s saying he doesn’t care if you’re a hopeless drunk.”
“Well, it’s about time,” said Grant. “Coming to bed?”
The secretary nodded, and wondered if Lincoln would order his other generals to engage in violent bestial sex, too.

Moonlighting

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They made fruit smoothies by day and killed babies by night.
We found the tiny corpses in the dumpster behind the Blend-a-Rama. If it hadn’t have been for a hungry stray dog, we’d have never known it was a front for a backalley abortion clinic.
The problem is, it’s not their dumpster. And the geniuses at Crime Lab screwed the evidence in a mixup. Someone got high on seized weed, had the aborted tykes incinerated.
All they’re getting is a health code citation and a slap on the wrist.
Word spreads fast. Their business is booming now, day and night.