I was walking to the pool when my mother yelled “You just ate, so don’t go swimming.”
Oh. Right.
Don’t swim within half an hour of eating or you’ll get cramps.
So, instead of swimming, I ran around the pool.
“No running around the pool!” my mother yelled.
So, I stopped running around the pool.
Instead, I ran around the house with scissors.
“Are you crazy?” my mother shouted. “Never run around the house with scissors!”
So I went outside and ran around the pool with scissors for thirty minutes.
And dove into the shallow end, scissors firmly in hand.
Tag: cliche
Drumming Out
The first man to be drummed out of the Army was forced to march from one end of the camp to the other to the sound of drums. (His jacket was turned inside-out, too, but that was already in practice among the dishonorable.)
In the Civil War, soldiers had their heads shaved and rank insignia torn from their jackets. Officers told the troops not to touch the drummed-out soldiers, but more than one was found dead after the ceremony.
These days, the Army’s much more civil.
But the Mafia sticks guys in oil drums and tosses them into the harbor.
Drawing a blank
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.
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.
Peach
What did you just say?
My hearing’s not so good, and I need new batteries in my hearing aids.
“Peach on earth, and good will to all men?”
Oh, you said peace, not peach.
Although, now that I think of it, peach makes a lot more sense.
I mean, have you ever been angry when eating a peach?
I haven’t. And you haven’t either.
Nobody ever has.
So maybe if we give peaches to everybody, there will be goodwill to all men?
What? You’re allergic to peaches?
Well, I guess there goes my whole “Good will” idea.
(You oversensitive jerk!)
Roses Aren’t Red
I write greeting cards for a living.
Valentine’s Day is a way’s off, but it takes months to come up with new cards and get them printed in time.
Plus, stores are putting cards out earlier and earlier every year.
After sitting at my desk for a week, the best I could come up with was a heart in greyscale.
Inside the card:
Roses aren’t red.
And violets aren’t blue.
I’m colorblind, jerk.
If it gets rejected, I’ll just sell it to an online freebie greeting card company.
Sure, it’s cutting my own throat, but my art must be appreciated.
The Tip Of The Iceberg
For some reason, no matter what the circumstances, Jackson and I always end up arguing.
“This is just the tip of the iceberg!” shouted Jackson.
I ask him to show me the tip.
So, he pulls it out of his pocket.
I thought about my high school Physics: buoyancy and displacement will lift the rest of the iceberg up to replace the tip.
Then I thought of English classes: Hemingway said writing is like an iceberg: ten percent above the water while ninety percent below.
Finally, I thought of Jackson’s sister, the cheerleader.
Man, she’s hot!
I love these arguments.
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?
Chilly
He was a hockey player, she was an Olympic figure skater.
So it stood to reason that they’d hold the wedding out on the ice.
Invitations went out to their families, friends, managers, agents, teammates and fellow performers.
However, when the day of the wedding arrived, very few people actually showed up.
The groom was huffing mad, his breath fogging the air.
The bride was in tears, freezing on her face.
They looked for their wedding planner and demanded to know why nobody was showing up.
“You wanted an ice rink wedding,” he said. “And they expected a chilly reception!”
Raising
This neighborhood is a great place to raise a family.
Especially if you want to raise them from the dead.
Yeah, this subdivision’s built on an ancient Indian burial ground.
What? You don’t want to raise an Indian family?
You’re not racists, are you?
Oh. Good. Well, then… the block over there is built on the site of a Presbyterian church. Maybe they had a cemetery along with it?
Just look for the stones marked “Infant” or “Son” or “Daughter.”
Unless you find a name you really like, because, let’s face it: the walking dead are lousy with new names.