Despise

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I despise you now, but one day, I will stop despising you.
You see, I plan on living forever, and once you meet your doom, there’s not much point in despising you, is there?
There will be so many new people, young and fresh, that will need despising and there’s no sense in wasting despise on the dead.
They’re, like, dead, you know? What’s the point in despising a dead person? It’s not like they can feel your despise.
I just wanted you to know.
Here’s your cheeseburger and fries.
Would you like some ketchup and salt for the fries?

Cookiegammon

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I like to play backgammon, but instead of checkers, I use cookies.
You just have to make sure that the cookies are different colors. Otherwise, you can’t tell which are your cookies and which are mine.
If you like Nutter Butters, then I’ll use Oreos.
I like Oreos.
We can put the cookies on the board, roll dice, and play until it’s time to bear the cookies off.
Every cookie you bear off, you get to eat.
Yummy!
Of course, eating 15 cookies can make you feel really sick.
Now you know why I don’t play with a doubling cube.

The Milk of The Storm

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Why do people rush to buy milk before a snowstorm?
This, we do not know. The invaders stole and destroyed many historical tapestries, and the oral tradition is lost.
Still, when the weather gets cold and the radio says it will blizzard, we rush to buy milk.
Even the lactose intolerant. The urge is deep in our blood. It is second-nature, like sneezing or smiling at babies.
When the snowdrifts rise against windows, we sit in the dark, starting at the milk.
It just sits there… until we pour in cereal…
Like firecrackers! Gunshots!
FIESTA TIME!
Viva la breakfast resolution!

These Donuts

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I see a trail of mini-donuts leading into the woods.
They wind through the trees until they trail into a cave.
At first, I thought it was a trap set by a bear to lure people to their doom.
Then, I saw a caveman come out of the cave, picking up and devouring the donuts.
I follow the trail of donuts out of the woods, and it ends in Spain.
What the Spanish want with him, I’m not sure.
Thoroughly confused, I head to the donuts shop, where I am captured with a butterfly net and dragged into the back.

Nose hairs

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The chief of the Yil-Doi tribe lays on his buckskin stretcher, facing the stars with lifeless eyes.
His son takes his badge of office, a bag made of woven strings of brightly-colored beads, and places it on his belt.
“I am the new chief now,” he says. “You warned me that I would cry at your passing into the darkness, father, but I have not.”
He is immediately grabbed by two braves.
They place tweezers of antler bone into his nose, pluck out three hairs, and place them in the holy bag.
Tears and snot ran down his aching face.

Keep it under your hat

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Whenever someone tells me to keep a secret, they tell me to keep it under my hat.
The problem is, there’s only so much room under my hat for everybody’s secrets.
I ask them if I can put it under someone else’s hat, and they tell me no. It needs to be my hat. They trust me and me alone.
Fine.
What if I get a bigger hat? Is that okay?
Yes, they say.
So I trade in my hat for a stovepipe hat.
The rest is history. I became President, and that’s when I really needed to keep secrets.

The Stained Shirt

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After eating a plate of chicken wings, I’ve got barbecue sauce on my shirt.
No, not the shirt I’m wearing. That one’s clean. I have a big napkin tucked into my shirt covering my tie.
The stains are on a shirt in plastic that I just picked up from the cleaners.
How I got barbecue sauce on that shirt and not the one I’m wearing, I don’t know.
The shirt was clean when I picked it up. I never took it out of the plastic.
I take off my clean shirt, put on the stained one, and all is well.

Forgetful

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Despite his many failures in all fields of Science, Dr. Odd maintains his keen sense of irony.
His greatest triumph in botany was the splicing and resequencing the DNA of forget-me-not flowers to cause them to naturally produce a compound similar to GHB.
One whiff of the flowers would prevent two to four hours of memory from sticking to the brain.
Dr. Odd forgot to wear a filter mask during his research, so even with extensive notes, it took years to complete.
And when he finished these sinister frankenflowers, he couldn’t remember that he invented them in the first place.

The Tribe

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For thirty-two years, in this lush and beautiful valley, members of the Tse-E Tribe have been singing “Row Row Row Your Boat” continuously.
When one tribesman in the group tires or needs to eat or sleep, he leaves and another takes his place.
Not that anyone gets much sleep. These guys sing pretty loud, no matter how much wool you stick in your ears.
This will probably continue for a few more years. The younger generation tends not to stick around, and the remaining singers are old and frail.
No respect for tradition, these kids. Even if it’s really stupid.

Sylvia

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On my screen, the auction timer crawled down to zero.
I won! I won!
I paid the seller, insisting on overnight delivery.
They accepted. Unlike when I offered to buy it outright for a thousand dollars.
They said they’d risk their rating.
Jerk!
I’ve wanted this all my life. I can’t wait another day.
The next day, I grab the box out of the postman’s hands, tear it open and pull out…
Sylvia Plath’s oven mitts!
I can’t wait to cook with them.
I turn on the oven… and…
Oh, what’s the use?
Goodbye, cruel world.
(And enjoy the cookies.)