When I asked a developer how his software works, he said that it runs on the magical rainbow particles that are farted out by the unicorns in the basement.
“All software companies have them,” he said. “But we have to keep it a secret. So, we write a bunch of sloppy code and confusing documentation to hide the unicorns behind.”
I laughed, but the developer hushed me up quickly. “Don’t laugh so loud!” He hissed. “You’ll piss off the unicorns!”
“Unicorns!” I said incredulously. “In the basement!”
I opened the basement door, and…
Magical rainbow particles really fucking burn, man.
Tag: fantasy
The Frog Princess
The princess found herself a prince, but he’d been cursed into the shape of a frog.
He told her that the curse would be lifted if she were to kiss him.
“At least that tasted good,” the princess said to the still-cursed frog prince.
“Maybe you need to do something else?” said the frog.
Grinning, she lifted her dress and shoved the squirming frog between her legs.
The experience was magical in more ways than one.
Exhausted, she looked up at her prince.
“Marry me,” she said.
“Hell no,” said the prince. “You fucked a frog, you disgusting freaky bitch.”
Breadcrumbs
Hansel and Gretel’s parents couldn’t afford to feed them, so they took the kids deep into the woods to abandon them.
However, the kids left a trail of breadcrumbs, and they followed it back to their home.
“Where did you get that bread?” shouted their parents. “We’re starving, and you waste bread like that?”
I stopped my mother and said “Don’t they use pebbles first? And shouldn’t the birds eat the breadcrumbs?”
My mother put the book down. “Fine, Little Mister Know-It-All. The birds ate the breadcrumbs. Then they caught and ate the birds. The end.”
My stomach rumbled painfully.
Spiterella or Swallowerella?
The prince held the glass slipper in his hands and smiled.
Sure, he could roam the kingdom, letting women try it on, but feet can be so disgusting.
Instead, what if it were something else that would identify the mystery woman?
Something he actually enjoyed.
The next day, he announced that a mystery woman at the ball had given him the best blowjob ever, and he’d marry the woman who could prove she was the one who did it.
Among the thousands was a scullery maid.
Pretty, but really… a prince with a commoner?
“Swallow and leave,” he said, laughing.
Tink
Tinkerbell flew around the dinner table of the Lost Boys, trailing her pixie dust and laughing.
But none of the boys raised their heads to laugh along. All just moaned and held their aching bellies.
Tinkerbell landed on the table and walked from boy to boy.
Red flushed faces.
Never-food vomiting.
Sunken eyes.
Bleeding sores.
Thinning hair.
Even her beloved Peter was looking haggard, unable to raise himself to crow.
One by one, the Lost Boys died of radiation sickness, not that Tinkerbell ever figured that out.
She flew away, trailing her sparkling deadly Radium trail… I mean pixie dust.
Jammed Up
Traffic. Jammed up solid.
Arthur brought his hands together with a clap, shouted YIELD!, and then pulled them apart quickly.
The cars in front of him flew to both sides of the street, clearing a path for him to drive through.
Only until after Arthur had passed through did people climb out of their cars or come out of their doors to survey the damage.
“Damn Wizards union,” muttered a taxi driver. His cab had been forced into a grocer’s sidewalk display of apples.
The insurance company wouldn’t pay for damages either.
He bought an apple and listened for sirens.
Good night, Elizabeth
The king’s daughter climbed into bed and closed her eyes.
“Good night, Princess Elizabeth” was composed by the Royal Music Guy as her personal lullaby, and the gentle strings and muted horns carried her into the land of dreams.
“She’s asleep,” signaled the Royal Music Guy to the orchestra. “Let’s go.”
Tuxedoed figures rose quietly from their seats and tiptoed out of the room.
“Why can’t she just listen to the song on an iPod?” asked the cellist.
“It’s a good gig,” hissed the bassoonist. “Don’t blow it.”
The Royal Music Guy whispered “Good night” and gently closed the door.
Drink Me Baby
Sometimes, Trixie likes to trade bodies with me.
So, I got out the soulstones, handed her one, and swallowed the other.
And then we went to sleep.
The next morning, everything was grey, and I felt strange and awkward.
I tried to feel myself, but I didn’t have Trixie’s hands or body to feel with.
I was in the dog.
She’d covered her soulstone with peanut butter and fed it to the dog!
I’m in the goddamned dog now!
I barked a few times, and that’s when the smell hit me.
A bowl. Filled with anti-freeze.
I… just… can’t… resist!
Puss In Boots
I never understood the story Puss In Boots.
I’ve never seen a cat walking around in boots.
However, I’ve owned a cat that pissed on my boots.
Maybe whoever wrote Puss In Boots had a cat that pissed on their boots, and they rubbed the cat’s nose in the pissed-on boots until the idea came to them for a Puss In Boots.
Probably not.
When my cat pissed on my boots, I came up with the idea for a boot rack in my closet, and closing the closet so the cat couldn’t get in there to piss on them again.
Fiddlers Zero
Old King Cole was a merry old soul, but not any more.
Rebellion in the colonies had cut off the shipments of tobacco, so his cherished pipe and bowl lay empty.
And he’d caught one of his fiddlers fiddling around with the queen.
“Execute all three!” shouted Cole.
The musician’s guild refused to send any more musicians to the castle.
Well, except for Angus McPherson, who played the bagpipes, but Cole rejected the offer.
Angus stayed in the guild hall, practicing Amazing Grace all day long.
All. Day. Long.
So they spread a rumor that he was fucking the queen.