Tag: cliche

When life hands you masks, make masquerade

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It looks like I have rows and rows of jars of preserves in my basement, but when I turn on the light, you can clearly see the faces within.
That’s what I do: take faces. preserve the beauty for all time and unmask the true person inside.
Early in my career, my victims died. But with practice, I’ve gotten much better at it. I haven’t taken a life while taking a face for a while now, and they come off much more cleanly.
Soon, I’ll be ready to remove my own.
Midnight is coming, and all masks are coming off.

Molly’s Bunnies

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Molly heard somewhere that if you play music for your plants, they’ll grow faster and larger.
So, Molly left the radio in the garden and played classical music on it.
After a few weeks, the blooms on the flowers were bigger and prettier.
However, so were the rabbits.
Molly tried to barricade the door, but she was no match for the massive bunnies as they heaved the battering ram through it.
This is where I’d like to tell you this odd tale had a happy ending.
So, I will.
(But truth be told, all we found was Molly’s bloody shoe.)

The Heroes

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Every town needs a Hero. It’s the law.
But somehow, those assholes at the ACLU got the courts to rule that the word “A” means “Only one Hero will be allowed in each town.”
Population wasn’t factored in when the law was passed, so even big cities like Metropolis and Gotham only get one hero.
Crime rates skyrocketed. The people cried out for help.
But Heroes face stiff fines and jail time if they don’t allow themselves to be relocated to Hero-less towns across the country.
Those who resisted by going vigilante were hunted down.
By the Heroes, of course.

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?”

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.

Let Him Dangle

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Kathy bought 78 canvases a few weeks ago.
It’s for a project of hers – she wants to paint the Tarot.
She could paint them up from memory, but she’s insisting on posing me as a model.
This week, we’ve been doing The Hanged Man.
Kathy may be having fun, but it really sucks to be me.
The blood rushes to my head and gives me migraines. Then I got rope burns on my ankle… until the rope came loose.
The studio has concrete floors… ouch!
But if you think this is bad, the next card’s the Ten Of Swords.

Yankee Blonde

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Sally wasn’t just stupid, but dead-dumb solid-rock stupid.
She was also a blonde, so her smart friends tried an experiment.
You know the old joke where artificial intelligence is where you dye a blonde’s hair black?
Well, they tried it with Sally.
They made her take off her favorite ballcap, then she washed her hair and dyed it dark.
Sure enough, she wasn’t dumb anymore.
Not quite a genius, but certainly smarter than before.
When her hair was dry enough, she put her trusty New York Yankees cap back on.
And, sure enough, she was the same old moron again.

Cutting Through Grease

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George pulled a DVD from the shelf, opened the case, and poured dishwashing liquid all over it.
He watched the goo spread over the disk.
His wife walked into the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she said.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” said George. “I’m trying to cut through Grease.”
“You’ll do anything to get out of doing the dishes,” said George’s wife.
“Not really,” said George. “For instance: I won’t clean the toilets.”
George tried the experiment on Grease 2, and to his amazement, it split.
“Well, it was a weak movie,” said his wife.

Mister Thimble

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When I was little, I’d play Monopoly with my family.
They took the cool pieces, like the dog and the shoe.
All that was left was the hat and the thimble.
So, I put the hat on top of the thimble and called it Mister Thimble.
We were a team, Mister Thimble and I. Best of friends.
He still is my friend. I carry him everywhere.
Late at night, we talk about things.
Sometimes, we talk about you.
I like you, but Mister Thimble doesn’t like you.
Don’t say that Mister Thimble isn’t real.
He’s right here, watching you sleep.

Miles And Miles

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Joe says when you dream of flying, you’re dreaming of sex.
When I ask him if dreaming of sex represents flying, he says “I’m not sure. Maybe.”
Then, when I ask him of what dreaming of having sex while flying is, he says “Maybe you’re dreaming of the Mile High Club.”
I asked him if there’s a “Mile Under Club” for people in really deep mines or in submarines or a “Mile Long Club” for people screwing in an RV or on a flatbed trailer.”
“Don’t forget a bus,” he said.
Yuck. Who’d want to screw someone on a bus?