The cute little bunnies hopped along in a row, following their mommy.
“Stick close!” she called. “It’s just up ahead.”
They rounded a tree, and there, spread out before them, was a beautiful grassy meadow.
“Here we are!” said mommy bunny.
Suddenly, a punchline happened!
It was absolutely, incredibly hilarious.
Some folks say that when a red moon crests the horizon, twenty-three percent of the world’s pregnant women are within an hour (in either direction) of giving birth.
Me? I say it’s more like eighteen percent. A lot of folks like to exaggerate. I found that out the hard way.
“Yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay yay!”
“What?”
“I finished my schoolwork for the whole semester!”
“So?”
“Yay yay yay yay yay yay yay!”
“What a freakin’ cop out…”
Randy burst through the door. “Mandy, do you only love me for my money?!”
Mandy looked up from her fashion magazine, startled. “What? No! Honey! I love you for your… well, for your eyes!”
Randy sank into his chair stuffed with hundred-dollar bills. “Oh, phew.”
Mandy gripped her eye-socket spoon.
When his mother got home, the floor of the house was littered with nuts, sardines, bamboo, and corn.
“What in the world is going on?” shouted Mom.
“I’m hunting for a qualeor!” he grinned.
“No, you’re hunting for a grounding,” scolded Mom.
And then the qualeor burst through the window.
What in the world is a qualeor?
If you have an idea, why not describe it in a comment, or draw a picture of it (while it’s bursting through the window, perhaps?).
On Wednesday, Ned’s worst nightmare came alive.
He awoke, showered, dressed, and looked out the window, and that was when he saw the Abomination: it was a cow with the head and wings of a crow.
“Nooooo!!” he screamed. “How am I supposed to make a portmanteau out of that!?”
“Gimme the jelly beans!”
“I’m sorry, what?” I turned around. There was a person with a shotgun standing on the other side of the counter looking menacing.
“Empty out the jelly bean vending machine! Now!”
“Ok, ok!” I slowly stepped around the counter and did it.
He ate them all.
This story was inspired by @Ponza on Twitter.
The former mayor sat pouting in the gutter. “He’s hoodwinked them all with his luscious, bushy beard!” he muttered. “I must uncover his secret! But how?”
“Did somebody say ‘Butt Howe’?” wheedled a large rat wearing a silk top hat. “At your service!”
“You can help me?”
“For a price.”
This story is a sequel to this story.
“But I really need to go!”
“I’m sorry sir, but it’s in the contract you signed when you bought your ticket: no stops ’til we get to Vegas.”
“You can’t even pull over for a minute to let me pee?!”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Then I’ma use the window!”
“Very good, sir.”
This story is dedicated to the Desert Bus For Hope charity fundraiser marathon, which is raising funds for Child’s Play.
The day after the day all the fruit disappeared, I broke into a grocery store in the middle of the night. It was a ghost town: the empty aisles were strewn with plastic bags lit by ghastly signs declaring, “We Still Have Vegetables!”
The Vitamin C pills were already gone.