Tag: sick

Calvin and Dinner

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The wonderful thing about tiggers is that they taste delicious.
Ever eaten a tigger? No?
My oh my, if you haven’t eaten a tigger, you just haven’t lived.
It’s been a while since I’ve eaten one. In fact, it’s been a while since I’ve seen one.
Have you see any tiggers recently?
No?
I haven’t either.
I keep putting out tigger bait on my tigger traps, but at the end of the day, there’s no tiggers in the tigger traps.
Once, I caught a tiger named Hobbes, but he tasted awful.
I hope I don’t catch any more of those.

Shooter

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Joe’s always cracking jokes.
He can’t even go to the bathroom without making a pun.
His favorite is “I’m going to make a deposit at the Bank of American Standard.”
He also bombs Porcelain Harbor a lot.
I told him I was sick of his puns, so he said he was going to shoot himself.
The bathroom door slammed before I could say anything.
We called the police, they sent negotiators, and to make a long story short, he walks out of the bathroom, flipping through his digital camera’s stored images.
“Chip’s full,” he said. “Can I borrow your printer?”

Boys Will Be Boys

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Usually, the boys come back greasy and burnt from a robot hunt. But this time, they came back bloody.
At first, they said the robot banged them up good. But those cuts ain’t deep enough for that amount of blood.
The story we told the cops was that the robot that tore apart the Jenkins kid. My boys tried to stop it, but they were just too late.
It worked. Another close call for the Boudreaux Clan.
Boys will be boys, though – they want to go hunting again tonight.
I boot up another Snipeco 6000, sigh, and hit Run.

Wake

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Jimmy O’Connor planned this from the get-go. Long before the oncologist said “Tough shit.”
For his wake, he programmed up a hologram of himself.
Sure, other terminally ill hackers had programmed 2D movies and played them at their funerals, but Jimmy was the first to render a fully-operational, interactive ghost.
He was also the first to sync one with bio-implants too.
So, right in the middle of the wake, Jimmy’s ghost points at himself and screams “ZOMBIE!”
The servos kick in. Jimmy’s corpse slowly rises.
POW! I blow Jimmy’s head off with my .45.
That’s how you handle zombies, right?

These Are The Pros And Cons

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It’s my Southern gentleman’s instinct, really.
You see a hot chick standing on the side of the road with her thumb stuck out, and you pull over to pick her up, right?
It’s the courteous thing to do.
Courteous ain’t what the other drivers thought. Sponsors and Team Owners, too.
Biggest damn wreck in NASCAR history, all because I’m thinking with my pecker.
That, and fucked up on painkillers and Jack Daniels.
Speaking of which, you think we’ll lose Jack Daniels as a sponsor?
Shit.
I guess I’ll just wash my percodans down with Jim Beam from here on out.

Labor Pains

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We checked the nanny’s references. Even did a Google search
She came up clean, but it turned out she was batshit crazy.
A month later, we were sitting down to a candlelight dinner at Rico’s when my cell rang.
It was a neighbor calling about the noise.
We got home just in time to stop the psycho bitch from cutting off another of our baby’s toes.
“They grow back,” the nanny shrieked. “Like a starfish!”
No, they don’t.
Two grew back. Like The Lernaean Hydra.
I flipped a coin, and my wife lost.
She cuts, and I’ll burn the stump.

Backwards

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An orderly wheeled Stuart’s corpse back into the emergency room, sliding him on to a table and putting an IV needle into his arm.
Doctors and nurses surrounded the body, alternating between chest compressions and defibrillator shocks.
A pulse…
Then… nothing.
Still dead.
The doctors worked some more and then quickly yanked the needles back out of Stuart. The nurses took units of blood down from their hooks.
They had to work quickly. Paramedics wanted to load Stuart on to a blood-soaked stretcher to catch an ambulance heading to a fatal car crash.
Yeah, that’ll revive the fucker for sure.

The Last Drop

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When Charlie retired from the waterworks, they gave him a gold-plated watch and a cardboard box to put his stuff in.
He took everything home but a large half-empty bottle of poison, which he left in the middle of his desk.
Charlie had started every day with a fresh cup of coffee, walking to the Filtration Pump Room, and putting a drop of poison in the city’s water supply.
He figured it would toughen people up a bit in these difficult times.
Charlie also dumped his coffee into the city’s water supply, but that’s because the coffee was so bad.

The Final Hours Of A Professional Slut

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Anne Nicole sat in her hotel suite and wept.
From the other room, her lawyer’s bastard baby shrieked.
The porn star wept harder.
She always got this way when she read the letters from her dead billionaire husband.
One after the other, his words tore at her heart and she yearned for him to be here with her again.
When she was finished with the last letter, the tears turned to rage.
“You found time to write this shit, but you couldn’t write a goddamned will?”
She poured out the pill bottle into her hand, swallowing them one by one.

Choose Your Death

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The catalog makes it very simple.
Every page has a different kind of death on it, a full-color photograph in all its grisly wonder.
I looked cold and hard at the page featuring the carbomb, but it was just a little too messy for my taste.
Plus, I kinda liked Steve’s car. Was hoping to buy it after… he bought it.
Then I saw the death I wanted: electrocution.
Their number was busy, so I went to the website… entered the data… and…
Transaction completed.
Wait… hold on…
Did I get the billing and shipping addresses mixed up?
Uh oh.