Tag: cliche

By The Barrel

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“Never pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel,” slurred Mark Twain, staggering drunkenly in the street.
“Certainly, sir,” said the police officer. “But I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
“That’s because I buy wine by the barrel,” said Mark Twain, falling flat on his face in the dirt.
The officer dragged Twain back to the hotel lobby, and that’s when the newspaper office exploded.
“Great Scot!” shouted the cop.
“I also buy black powder by the barrel,” mumbled Twain. “That’ll teach the son of a bitch to be late paying me for my articles.”

The Chicken

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Some people ask Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Me, I don’t ask such things.
Instead, I ask Which came first, the San Diego Chicken or the San Diego Egg?
It turns out that the San Diego Chicken was first, the “Grand Hatching” as “The Famous Chicken” happening later in 1979, although initially he was known as the KGB Chicken.
Wait… he was a Russian spy?
Well, KGB was the radio station that came up with the idea, but their call letters being similar to that of the Russian spy service is just a coincidence.
Sure it is.

Piggy Wings

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Smith smiled and put his research paper on the pile.
“So, you grew a flying pig,” said Zambosio. “Good work, Smith.”
Smith opened the paper and pointed to a chart. “Actually, it’s just growing wings on pigs.”
“So they can’t fly?” asked Zambosio.
“No,” said Smith.
“Still,” said Zambosio, “growing a pair of wings on a pig still takes a lot of effort.”
“Actually, it’s just one wing per pig,” said Smith.
Zambosio took off his glasses. “What good is just one wing on a pig?”
“They’re quite delicious,” said Smith.
“At least pigs are tamer than buffalo,” said Zambosio.

Par Of Dice

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“God does not play dice with the universe,” said the old professor, “He plays dice with the Franelli Brothers in the alley.”
Joe, Luigi, God, and Tony were huddled around a pile of money, some beer bottles, a pizza box, and a pair of dice.
God picked them up. “Baby needs a new crown of thorns,” he muttered, and threw.
“Why do you let bad things happen to good people?” I asked.
“Because they don’t pay up,” said Joe.
Luigi laughed and looked at God. “Is we forgiven?”
“Yeah, yeah,” said God. “Pass the bones, Jack. I’m feeling lucky tonight!”

Chew Bubblegum

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“I came here to kick ass and chew bubblegum,” said the hero. “And I’m all out of bubblegum.”
The villain checked his pockets.
“I think I have some bubblegum,” he said.
“What?” asked the hero.
“I have some gum,” said the villain, holding out a pack. “Strawberry flavor?”
“I like strawberry,” said the hero.
The villain handed the hero a piece.
“Thank you,” said the hero, sticking it in his mouth. “That’s nice of you.”
He chewed it, blew a bubble, and fell over dead.
The villain laughed his best laugh, then stopped when he realized nobody could hear him.

Shouting

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Jerry tried to think of worse things to shout in a movie theater than “Fire!” He ran down the list in his notebook, shouting each one.
The theater owner didn’t appreciate his field research and banned him from the theater.
Never one to give up easily, he tried other theaters, but his face was on a printout at the box office.
So he went from town to town, but the theater chains caught on to his act.
Jerry became a master of disguise, using false noses and wigs and sunglasses to alter his appearance.
Eventually, the worst word became “JERRY!”

The Monkeys

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Bill bred the monkeys specifically for manual dexterity and docile temperament.
The typewriters, hauled out of some warehouse, just needed dusting and fresh ribbons.
Writers Guild representatives caught wind of Bill’s plan and used everything short of poisoning the banana supply to stop him.
Despite these evil schemes, Bill persevered, and his simian legions grew.
And produced.
At first, random garbage was the result. Lots of stained, crumbled sheets of typing paper covered with garble.
Then, smashed typewriters and the occasional dead monkey.
They never did manage to produce Shakespeare, but made a fine line in Bill’s obituary years later.

Let my people go

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Moses felt his heart lurch as he watched Pharaoh carry his lifeless son to Anubis’ statue.
“Will you let my people go now?” asked Moses.
“No,” said Pharaoh.
“No?” asked Moses. “But…your son…”
“He was my eldest, sure,” said Pharaoh. “But I have dozens more, just as ready to take my throne. Insurance against assassination, or enemy gods.”
Moses’ heart sank, and he returned to his people.
“Did it work?” asked Herschel.
“No,” said Moses.
The community agreed. “We need more plagues,” said Herschel.
It took sixteen more to convince Pharaoh.
They edited those out of The Bible, of course.

Autochef

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Do you like to eat? I do, and there’s nothing quite like the joy of having an Autochef.
Self-cleaning.
Adaptive hypermenu technologies.
Self-sharpening knives.
Automated inventory control and ingredients ordering.
What’s not to like? I’ve had mine for a month, and it’s been absolutely amazing. I eat like a king, and yet thanks to Portion Control and the Dietary Module, I haven’t gained a pound.
It’s not perfect, though. The other night, some joker put a “Kiss The Chef” apron on the Autochef. I was drunk enough to do it, and they had to restart my heart after the shock.

Breaking Eggs

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Doctor Odd held the eggs against the phase-regulated vacuum pump and flipped the switch.
“Watch!” he yelled.
The eggs vibrated for a moment, glowed red, and then their insides dropped into the skillet below.
“Success,” said Odd, inspecting the shells.
Not a crack.
“You can’t do this!” shouted his assistant. “This is madness! You cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs!”
“You’re right,” said Odd, looking at the bubbling eggy goop in the frying pan.
“Thank God you came to your senses, Doctor,” said his assistant.
“What was I thinking?” said Doctor Odd. “It needs peppers and mushrooms!”