I keep my knife collection in my back and my stamp collection on all these envelopes I keep filling with money to keep you from adding to my knife collection.
You bitch. You evil bitch.
How much is enough? How long do I have to suffer?
You never answer me. you just send another envelope to fill, so I know the answer: as long as I live.
Or, as long as you live.
Now, I keep my knife collection in your chest… your throat.
My last two stamps are over your eyes.
I am free.
… and another envelope arrives.
Tag: cliche
Unlucky
I got into the elevator with a banker.
He pushed the button for the fourteenth floor, and we started to go up.
“Why is there no thirteenth floor?” I asked him.
“It’s unlucky,” he said. “Thirteen is unlucky.”
I took out my wallet, pulled out thirteen singles, and offered them to the banker.
He took it without question and stuck it in his pocket.
“Why is that not unlucky, and a floor is?”
The banker grinned. “It’s unlucky for you. I think I’ll have a coffee.”
I didn’t tell him that they were counterfeit.
But I told the Starbucks manager.
Soylent Groan
Near the end of the movie Soylent Green, Charlton Heston’s character weeps as he accompanies his elderly friend to the suicide center.
The tears are genuine. E G Robinson was dying, and he told Charlton about it before the shoot. Charlton wasn’t acting… the emotion of the impending death of his friend was overwhelming.
Also, the whole “processing the dead into food” thing was genuine, too. The movie was over budget, so the producers cut the catering budget by eating hundreds of extras killed in various accidents on the set.
Accidents. Uh huh. Right.
Charlton laughed, and asked for seconds.
Dr. Frankenstein At The Grocery
Dr. Frankenstein burst into the grocery store and ran straight for the produce section.
“Damn that Igor!” he growled as he reached for a bag of Romaine hearts.
Only an hour ago, Frankenstein had thrown a head of Iceberg lettuce to the lab floor.
“I need a heart, not a head!” he shouted.
“Sorry, Master!” Igor had slurred. “I’ll go back to the gro-”
“No!” shouted Frankenstein. “I’ll get it myself!”
By the time Frankenstein returned to the castle, the lightning had stopped.
He’d have to perform his experiments some other stormy day.
He shrugged, and prepared a Caesar salad.
Laxatives
Using laxatives to lose weight is a bad idea.
Not only will you drain your body of essential nutrients, but you’ll damage your fragile digestive tract.
And then there’s the possibility that you’ll shit out your soul.
Most people notice when it’s slipped out. Treat it like a knocked-out tooth: keep it moist, and get to a priest. They’re in the Yellow Pages.
If you accidentally flush your soul away, that’s just too bad. Just be sure to wash your hands, and there’s plenty of jobs available to you: Wall Street banker, politician, and Department of Motor Vehicles window clerk.
Mr. Moneybags
I’d never want all the money in the world.
If I had all the money in the world, that would mean that nobody else would have any. And they’d constantly ask me for some.
“Hey, Mister Moneybags, can you spare a few bucks? I want to buy a sandwich.” And I’d say “Of course.” And I’d pull out a hundred. “Can you break a hundred?”
Of course not.
I guess the world’s economy would collapse. Or turn to barter.
So, instead of all of it, I just want as much of it as I can get.
Just like everybody else.
The Crime
It was a sunny day without a cloud in the sky when Bert killed Ernie.
After all those years together, Ernie only wanted to share his bathtub with his rubber duckie.
And all those stupid, annoying questions.
The last thing Ernie said was “Why is it Sesame Street instead of Sesame Court?”
Bert snapped.
A few hours later, Bert called the police and confessed.
The police said they’d send someone to pick him up.
Three hours later, the police unit had gotten lost on the way.
The officer called Bert: “Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?”
JJE
Ever hear the phrase “judge, jury, and executioner?”
Well, in Tangle Creek, Alaska, that’s their justice system.
If Old JJ Barleyfield catches you committing a crime in Tangle Creek, your ass is toast.
But then, there’s not much crime in that old mining town… Fred’s the only resident there these days.
Well, was.
Fred must have caught himself committing a crime, because the mail delivery service found him dead the other day.
The paperwork he left behind was just scribbles that nobody could understand.
At first, the state coroner ruled it Suicide, but he scratched that out and wrote Justice.
The Scapegoat
God watched Abraham carry his son Isaac up the mountain.
“Seriously?” mumbled Jesus. “You going to let him to this?”
God tried to stifle a laugh. “Nah, I’m just testing him.”
“Dad,” said Jesus. “You’re a dick.”
God scowled. “Oh, shut up. I’ll stop him before he stabs the kid.”
“Would you do this kind of thing to me?” asked Jesus.
“Of course not,” growled God.
Abraham put down his son and felt around for his knife.
Shit. Left it at home.
So, he picked up the kid and dashed his brains out on the rocks.
“Oh fuck,” said God.
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.