From Monster Laughs:
From File # 143:
Frankenstein’s Monster Bolts Loose:
[What You Need to Know: The narrator is Eadward Thomas Hunter, a Paranormal Detective who’s been hired to track down and capture Frankenstein’s Monster. Kay is his assistant in whom he has no romantic interest. She just proved highly beneficial in his previous case (File # 142: The Howling Werewolf’s Hairy End).]
Kay screamed and stormed away. Great! I’ll need Captain Stitches [Frankenstein’s Monster] to bait a trap to get my assistant back. I hate interviewing applicants. Mostly only mentally-disturbed, socially-inept people go into this business. Before she waddled around the corner, I called out, “Wait! I love you too!”
Kay stopped and turned around. “Why didn’t you say so before?”
With a Mack truck blaring down the street between us, I yelled above its diesel din, “I’M A QUIET GUY!!!”
Bounding back to me, Kay stumbled and knocked over one of the aforementioned tourist buses. Served them right for eavesdropping.
That night, back at the hotel, we engaged in all the romantic antics a couple can enjoy with a Pocket Potato-Peeler.
“Oh, Kay. Oh, Kay! OHHH, KAAAAYYYYY!!!!!!”
“That was wonderful, Smoochie!” Kay panted. “How was it for you?”
“Okay.”
From Seasons Without Reason:
From “Exercise = MC2”
Albert Einstein, Fitness Guru:
While we admire someone dedicated to optimizing his mind and body, we wonder, “Why didn’t he do something with his hair?” A comb, some clippers, greasy kids’ stuff, something! But that’s how focused he was. “Hairdo Schmairdo! I’ll worry about my hair after I get a handle on my love handles. Or an exotic dancer does!”
He faced death with dignity. Choosing to forgo surgery, opting instead to wait and see if the hospital’s dessert that night would be banana pudding. His last words still ring true: “I want to eat what I want. It is tasteless to sweeten food artificially. I have done my share, it is time to go. I will do so elegantly. What’s keeping my pudding? And where are those crackers?! What’s a guy gotta do to get pudding and crackers around here? I explained relativity; didn’t I?! Argh!” Sadly, like most of us, he waited for a pudding cup which never came. Nor did the crackers. The next morning a Dixie cup of banana pudding plopped onto his serving tray, but Albert already departed.
From Exit Strategies:
[What You Need to Know: Dennis met Serena previously, but when she misunderstood his intentions, she splashed Merlot in his face and stormed away. Months have passed since they last me. But unfortunately for him, she turned out to be his girlfriend Chloe’s best friend. So now the three of them hang out at the Imperial Swan Hotel bar. Unaware that Chloe suffers from a terminal disease, Dennis made a comment about how creepy life must be on “The Death Ward”. A comment which clearly wasn’t appreciated by Chloe or Serena.]
Awkward! “Better go check on your drink.” Dennis slunk away from the grim silence. Didn’t know she’d [Serena] be here. Should’ve worn a raincoat. Or a tarp. Hanging out with her’s like watching Gallagher demonstrate his Sledge-O-Matic.
After Dennis sauntered around the corner, Chloe and Serena talked over each other, with Serena saying, “What’s going on? How can you like that creepy doofus? I’ll splash him again if he says anything else like that. You don’t think he’s a jerk?” while Chloe said, “It’s a long story. He doesn’t know. I can’t tell him. You don’t know him the way I do. He’s super sweet. I’m in love; and he makes me happy.”
They both stopped at the same time to ask, “What?”
“A doofus?” asked Chloe, feeling stabbed by the accusation.
Serena conceded, “As long as you’re in love; and he makes you happy. How did you two?”--
--Dennis returned. “Here’s your wine whiner.” He handed Serena her Merlot in a plastic spill-proof cup often used by toddlers to drink their juice. He snickered.
Chloe giggled.
Serena glared at the sippy cup as she took it from Dennis. “Hmmph!” How could Chloe ever love this boorish? -- She sipped the wine. “Mm.” Tastes great. Better than last time. And when the opportunity arises, I’ll remove the lid and splash him!
From Channel Surfing:
[What You Need to Know: Brad is a surfer who drowned, but after being resuscitated, he obtained the “ability” to channel disembodied spirits, an ability he can’t control. Rusty is a cop who wants to put away crime boss Barone for killing his partner. Tony “Spitty” Spitone is an informant who planned to testify, but got killed by an officer on Barone’s payroll before he could do so.]
“He Needs All The Wits He Can Get”
As the sun set, Rusty clutched an unopened whiskey bottle in a brown bag. He and Brad sat on Rusty’s Charger parked under the Interstate Highway 5 overpass. Hordes of homeless people milled about, too early to go to sleep.
“This isn’t surfing. I don’t pick which waves I ride; the waves pick me.” Brad groaned as his eyes rolled back. Tony cackled. “Rust! Never figured to see ya’ again.”
“Spitty!” Rusty hugged Brad, laughing with glee. “Now we can put away that slime ball Barone.” He released the embrace.
“Even the score for his icin’ me.”
“Stop him from destroying our city.” After hearing Tony clear Brad’s throat, Rusty continued, “And even the score for his icing you.”
Tad Withers, who had lost his home in a poker game, after unemployment drove him to desperate measures, snuck behind them, searching for the treasures that most never find.
Brad crinkled his face. “If Barone’s as bad you say, he’ll try to kill me too.” Tony via Brad agreed. “Oo! Too true. Too true. But he won’t just kill ya’, he’ll go after ya’ gir”--
--Reaching out with cobra speed, Rusty covered Brad’s mouth. “All the more reason he should be behind bars.”
With no one watching him, Tad ducked behind the Charger.
After Brad nodded in agreement, Rusty uncovered his mouth.
“What’s a gir?” Tony tried to answer, “Ya’ gir”--
--Rusty covered Brad’s mouth again. “Your girth. Right, Spitty?” He held up the bagged bottle. “I’ve got the whiskey I owe you.”
“Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm!”
After Rusty uncovered his mouth, Brad asked, “My girth?” Understanding Rusty’s angle better, Tony replied, “Runnin’ from his gunnin’ goons makes ya’ lose weight, so ya’ lose some o’ ya’ girth.”
Rusty nodded.
Brad pounded his fists together. “That’s uncool, man. Let’s save society from that psycho sicko!” Tony via Brad snatched the whiskey bottle from Rusty.
Rusty chuckled.
Tad slunk by, carrying one of Rusty’s hubcaps.
Tony via Brad gulped the whiskey, but Brad, regaining control of himself, yanked the bottle from his mouth and spat out the booze. To Brad, the liquor tasted like cough syrup gone bad. The inorganic kind that relieves chest congestion just as easily as it removes rust and water stains. “Uncool. No need to mess with my girth.” Tony protested, “Come on kid! Whatcha doin’?!”
“Let him have some fun.”
Brad capped the bottle. “Hey!”
Quivering at the thought of being caught, Tad hugged the hubcap, but then Brad tossed the bottle of whiskey to him, so Tad caught the bottle, gleamed a glimmer of renewed hope, and dashed back to replace Rusty’s hubcap.
“I need my wits about me.”
Tony via Brad snarled. “Ya’ still owe me Rust.”
Rusty sighed. “I still owe you Tone. But Blondie’s right. He needs all the wits he can get.”
Tad snapped the hubcap back in place. With a signal from him, others replaced the other three hubcaps and various other car parts they pilfered.
“And now that I know you’re not crazy, let’s go home.” Rusty slid off the hood of his Charger.
“This was a test?” Brad’s furrowing brow softened into laughter as Tony replied, “That’s Rust for ya’. Always workin’ some angle.”
Tad gulped a swig of whiskey, and then saluted them with the bottle he shared with his cohorts. Although he lost everything gambling, he knew he learned from his mistakes. Next time would be different. Next time, he wouldn’t even consider poker an option. Instead, he’d play the ponies.
From Heaven-Bent HUMOR:
The DEAN Adventures:
From Eyewitness Proof
That Life Existed on Other Planets!
Having had so much fun with my homemade portal to other dimensions, I traveled through it again and wound up on the far side of the universe where I found a planet of eerie beings, who each looked a lot like E.T., only with Nixon’s face.
(That’s what made them eerie.)
The “handsomest” of them resembled Bigfoot. Only with ZZ Top beards and a Snidely Whiplash mustache. Strange race indeed.
And that was just their women!
