The Crooked Tree

Tom Waits used to tell the story of a forest full of tall, perfect trees, and one fucked-up crooked tree among them.
The perfect trees all got on the crooked tree’s case.
“Be like us!” they said. “Grow tall and straight and perfect like us.”
The crooked tree laughed, and just got more twisted.
Eventually, the perfect trees were all chopped down for lumber.
Tom said that the lumberjacks left that crooked tree alone, but we all know that Tom’s a liar.
That tree got chopped up for firewood, and popped and hissed as it burned in the logger’s camp.

Imaginary

Do imaginary children worry their imaginary parents when they have real friends?
I tried to ask my imaginary friend Steve, but he kept insisting that he was real.
“Oh, come on, you’re not real,” I said. “My parents don’t let me have real friends because I bite them.”
Steve insisted that he was real. “They tell you I’m not because my parents don’t want you biting me.”
“Aha! I’m right! They do worry!”
Steve shook his head, and went back to playing with his Tinkertoys.
I reached for the Tinkertoys… but my tentacles passed through them.
I hate being imaginary.

The Master

I am the Dungeon Master.
I hide behind a screen and roll dice to determine your fate.
I have a module behind the screen which has a map and encounters in it.
I read a manual full of monsters that want to kill and eat you.
I can’t let you see any of these because you aren’t allowed to.
You are players. Not Dungeon Masters.
You’re supposed to go on adventures, not run adventures.
Stop trying to peek at my map. Make your own with your pencils and graph paper.
Your mom made Pizza Rolls?
Okay, maybe one little peek.

The Devil’s Cock

Once, I knew a guy with a small penis.
Really small.
So, he prays and prays for a bigger penis, but God doesn’t answer, God doesn’t listen.
But me, I do.
“Gimme your soul, and I’ll give you a huge cock,” I said.
No, he didn’t fall for the giant chicken trick. Few guys do anymore. Instead, he worded his request carefully, eleven inches long.
I wrote up the contract, he signed it, and I fixed him up.
Eleven inches long.
And four inches thick.
It takes so much blood, the guy blacks out every time he gets a hard-on.

Army of the Damned

The ancient wizard on the outskirts of town said he was collecting up minions to build up an army of the damned.
“With my army, I’ll conquer the world!” shouted the wizard.
One of his minions spoke up. “What about a navy?”
The wizard raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Well, the British proved that naval forces are critical to maintain a global empire.”
Another minion put his hand up. “And the Americans demonstrated that air superiority allows rapid force projection. Will we have a damned air force?”
The first man was drowned.
The other was flung by catapult.
“Damn,” they said.

Stinkyman

Aquaman never gets any respect.
Sure, he’s in the Justice League, but what can he do?
He can swim. And he can talk to fish.
This doesn’t faze criminals in the slightest. Unless they’re robbing the aquarium. Which never happens.
However, he filled a super-soaker with Vietnamese fermented fish sauce, and things took a turn for the better.
Now, criminals are scared that they’ll get dowsed with the stinky crap.
Okay, compared to getting punched in the face by Batman or thrown into orbit by Superman, it’s nothing, but that stuff’s a bitch to wash out.
Just shoot him, boys.

Superman’s Drunk

Superman’s drunk.
How can you tell?
His cape’s on backwards. And he’s got his boots on the wrong feet.
Plus, he’s wearing his glasses. Usually he remembers to take those off.
Then there’s the fact that he just killed Lex Luthor.
He ripped off the guy’s head and flew around Metropolis, shouting all kinds of crazy stuff.
Yeah, YouTube’s overloaded from people uploading and watching videos of all this.
Everybody’s out in the streets or hanging out of windows with their camera-phones, taking pictures and video.
Except Jimmy Ollsen.
He’s off somewhere, fucking Lois Lane.
And that’s why Superman’s drunk.

Luck be a dragon tonight

Okay, so I have a gambling problem, but some days the dice are good to me.
Once, I was on a roll, and I had a pile of chips so high, I couldn’t see over them.
I held out the dice and asked a lady to blow on them for good luck.
She turned out to be a fire-breathing dragon, and she breathed fire on my hand.
I got third-degree burns from that, and I had to spend all my winnings on surgery and rehabilitation.
The dragon didn’t stick around to see me through all the pain and agony.
Bitch.

Flying Reindeer

There’s nothing I hate more than when parents lie to their children and make them believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, and Ben Affleck movies that don’t suck.
They’re all a lie.
North Pole? Santa?
All the crap we buy and give as gifts really comes from China.
Based on the wretched environmental conditions in China, imagine how much worse the North Pole would be.
It would be a toxic nightmare of a wasteland.
But then, it would explain the flying reindeer.
Would you want to step in any of that chemical crap?
I’d mutate and learn to fly, too.

The Pea

Once upon a time, there was a prince that was seeking a bride.
But every prospect just wasn’t good enough for him, and he sent them away.
Until one rainy night, a woman showed up at the palace, seeking shelter from the storm.
The prince stacked up a dozen mattresses, and he slipped a single pea under them.
Then, the princess climbed up the mattress pile, got under the covers, and tried to go to sleep.
But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t.
“Do you feel that pea?” asked the prince.
“No,” said the princess. “I’m afraid of heights.”