I’m trying to write a story, but I’m drawing a blank.
I imagine the blank in my mind, standing there, chewing the creativity out of the imaginative part of my brain to pieces.
I send my guards after the blank, and it is captured.
After torturing a confession out of the blank, I have it dragged out into a field.
Its legs and arms are tied to horses, and I ask the blank if it has any last words.
“Nope,” it says. “I’m drawing a blank.”
“Not me,” I say. “I’m drawing and quartering one.”
The horses pull it apart.
Tag: sick
Bored? Have an exorcism!
I asked my wife what she wanted for her birthday.
She said “Oh, just get me something crazy and expensive that I don’t need.”
Emo Philips once said the perfect gift for such an occasion is radiation treatment.
But that’s dangerous. Makes people sick.
So, instead of radiation treatment, I got her an exorcism.
Tying her to the bed was easy, but she started screaming and swearing the moment the priest came into the room.
“Happy Birthday,” I whispered into her ear.
She screamed and swore louder, so I told the priest “That’s the Devil talking.” before leaving the room.
Everything is a circle
Everything is a circle.
The table is a circle.
The table’s chairs are in a circle.
The cake is a circle.
The glass of milk is a circle.
Your eyes open wide. Like circles.
Your mouth is a circle, silent.
As you choke on the cake, your hands rise to your throat, and your face goes blue.
The lenses on my glasses are circles.
I watch you die.
I dig a hole in the back yard… another circle.
I push you in, fill up the hole.
I eat the rest of the cake, drink the milk, and go to sleep.
Clown Juice
Here. Have a drink.
What is it?
Clown juice.
Yeah, it tastes a little funny.
Freshly squeezed, too. None of that frozen concentrate junk or powdered “Clown Drink” crap.
Pure clown juice, straight from the clown.
Squeezed their squirting flowers myself this morning.
What kind of clown?
Circus clown. Only the best Barnum and Bailey label.
Rodeo clowns are just too gritty and bitter. Nobody wants to drink that rot.
And don’t get me started on mimes. Weak as water and sappy sweet.
Hospital clowns, well, they’re too salty.
From the tears they cry after visiting the kids.
Sad stuff.
They Walk No More
Things have been crazy here in Middle Earth.
There was a war. Lots of people and orcs and things got killed.
Some midgets and their friends chickened out and fled. They claimed they had to go off and destroy a ring.
Yeah. Right.
The noise died down, the fires got put out, we buried the bodies and repaired the damage to our homes and businesses.
Those ring-destroying heroes? Too hoity-toity for honest hard work.
They said “We’re sailing off to the West.”
Yeah, we got stuck building the boats. Them walking trees really yell when you mill them for planks.
Bottle Or Can
Oswald, laying back in his weekly bath, not that there’s much room in the tub left for water to call it a bath, shouts “BEER! NOW!”
Bertha’s sick of being treated like a damn servant. She brings up a bottle and a can. “Which would you have?”
“Bottle,” he says.
She breaks the bottle over Oswalt’s bald head. Glass shatters all over him.
A torrent of profanity fills the air. “What you go do that for?” growls Oswalt.
“Oh, you’d prefer the can?” asks Bertha, and she puts it in one of his dirty socks and bludgeons him to death.
Cling
Sometimes, we cling to things. Other times, things cling to us.
Usually, it’s easy to tell the difference. But when it comes to Stanley and Life, not so.
At first, we thought that Stanley was clinging to Life.
Then, upon further examination, we saw that Life was clinging to Stanley.
We debated the merits of both perspectives while Stanley shouted “HEY! SOMEONE HELP ME!”
Stanley was clinging to the guardrail, and his grip was slipping.
“Or is the guardrail clinging to you, Stanley?” I asked.
Stanley lost his grip, and fell into the chasm, screaming.
The argument’s moot now, huh?
When We Were Relish
WikiPedia says that relish is “a cooked, pickled, or chopped vegetable or fruit food item which is typically used as a condiment.”
So, technically, that jar of chopped pickled cucumbers you smacked Alex alongside the head with is not a relish, as it was used as a weapon, not a condiment.
However, if you decide to decapitate Alex, cook his head, and serve it with the chopped pickled cucumbers on the side, then it’s still not relish.
Chopped pickled cucumbers do not go with cooked severed heads at all. However, based on its presentation, you could call it a garnish.
Mungidon Soup
When challenged by a bowl of mungidon soup, it’s best to have your back to the wall.
Mungidon soup is a clever and social soup, and often hunts in packs.
If you think that upending or shattering the bowl is all it takes to thwart an attack, you’ve thought wrong, you sponge-headed dunderstump. Mungidon soup is even more dangerous when outside of its bowl, tureen, or thermos.
Place your spoon in front of you, dip it into the soup, and consume it completely.
Blow on it if you can. This will soothe it before ingestion.
Otherwise, your intestines might explode.
Kleenex Tacos
I’d like to make tacos for dinner tonight.
I have everything I need for them:
Beef
Lettuce
Cheese
Sour Cream
Salsa
Onions
and Seasoning
But I have no taco shells. Nor do I have tortillas.
I can go either way in the eternal soft taco hard taco debate.
I remember back to my Debate Team days in school when I magnificently debated both sides of the issue and took home the trophy.
And stopped on the way home for tacos.
Today, without either shells or tortillas, I must make a third choice:
Kleenex.
(It was either that or toilet paper.)