Make me laugh!

Our first exercise in studio had us scribbling a bit about something humorous. An hour was allotted and this is what we came up with. Ahem, yep, post ’em.

posted by Tony Brock on January 10, 2005 | comments: 13 | post a comment

Only two logs to be placed in the smoker. Solamente dos. Por favor. I know he did not apprecitate my inherent disrespect towards his Equadorian orgin. I don't believe he thought too highly when I hit on his sister for that matter, but that's who I am, and when trying to earn these American dollars, one must deal with this cold facts. And obey the orders for the amount of wood to be placed in the smoker.
Maybe there was no reason to be running after that dancing elf. He was wearing green. I am partial to green. And God knows there are few in this world who have seen an elf who can actually dance. Plus, he was leaving behind him a trail of honey roasted pig testicles.

The latter has no relevancy to this chase, yet I find this detail hard to emit from the story no matter how many times I tell it, especially to the grandkids.

Regardless, he was running, with the color green and pig testicles and dancing, in my general direction.
Andres, I thought at the time, understood his role in the case that my absence should so suddenly occur. But 8 logs. For God's sake. I hate those Equadorians.
I saw the tiny green man as I was headed towards the freezer. Five cases of ribs tonight - it would be a busy day tomorrow. He bent down to tie his shoe, and I knew this would be my only chance to prove to the world that elves really could dance. What would I do with this man when I caught him? Probably slap him. Slap him in hopes that elves don't know how to fight. Hopefully that would knock him out. He's an elf so it shouldn't take much. A punch is too brutal.
I called out to Andres to finish my job at the smoker.
2 logs.
Not 8.
Maybe in your small country of Equador 8 logs. But in the grand United States of America, and especially my restaraunt, 2 logs.

Tiny green elves can be knocked out with one slap I found that day, and a small bar-b-que restaraunt can be burnt to the ground by a total lack of respect for authority, 8 oak logs, and a careless Equadorian boy.

I should have told that Lithuainian kid to do it.

Posted by Alex #1 (Ford) on January 11, 2005 05:43 AM

"All About George"

Once upon a time there was a magical fairy land that was located under a rainbow. In this magical fairy land there lived a young tomato named George. George grew up a poor tomato. His father worked nights at a local adult bookstore, and his mother was a telephone operator. Because most of the magical fairy land population was rich, poor George made few friends. By high school, George was overweight, lonely, and very tired of his life as a tomato. During his freshman year he was teased by other kids, and after a few months the teasing stopped and the other kid ignored George all together. Poor, poor, tomato George.

Part 2
One day George decided to do something about his life. He worked-out at the gym and became more sociable. Pretty soon some people at school started noticing him, and before he knew it, he was the most popular tomato in school. George wanted to play a sport, now that he was in good shape, and decided to try football. However, he did not make the team because he lacked a skeletal system. So he tried out for cheerleading. George had so much school spirit that the school made him the team mascot. So every game night George dressed as the school mascot Wally the Wild Walrus. The crowd loved him! He could hear them chanting, "Wally! Wally! Wally!" through the faux leather of his costume. He puffed out his chest (wherever that would be on a tomato) and strutted up and down the field. George knew he was going to be remembered.

Part 3
After the game, all of the cheerleaders and football players were treated to a meal at Pizza Hut. George's parents had never taken him to Pizza Hut before and he couldn't figure out why. He wondered why his parents had kept this delicious secret from him. After eating three large slices, George asked the team, "hey guys! What is pizza made from? It's so good!" The team was very quiet, and everyone stopped and turned to look at George. One girl burst into tears. After a long silence someone finally had an explanation, "George, we're so sorry. We thought you knew." Confused, George asked, "Knew what?" "Well," said the boy, "Pizza is made from bread and cheese with a tomato sauce base." George sat stunned. "You mean, I...I...ate a tomato?" Everyone sat silently, some shuffled their feet, no one looked at George. Teary eyed, George ran out of the Pizza Hut and onto the rainy street. He was confused and it was hard to see. He tried dodging traffic, but it was no use. George was hit by a car. He died instantly, and nothing was left of him but a pile of ketchup and a few seeds.

The End
So hey kids, the moral of the story is don't do drugs!

Posted by Jessica on January 12, 2005 01:36 AM

Just as I'd feared, Cletus told me, Tammy you are dumb, D U M B!" Well I guess that's 2 strikes against me cause darnit if I ain't clumsy too.

There is just some things we didn't learn while growin up in ol' Crows Nest, NC. There weren't no Starbusck or Home Depot. Closest thing to it was the Starlight Cafe and the home supply section at the Piggly Wiggly.

One time me and Daddy done gone to town, over yonder in a place called Chapel Hill to see us a football game. Before the game we ate at one of them giant Chinese buffets. It was awesome. Well, after 15 egg rolls and something soft I still can't identify, I got me a fortune cookie. Inside it read,'You will soon meet the love of your life.'

I done jumped up and down with joy, being as I was already 19 and not hitched. I stuck it up on my rearview mirrow and prayed to the Lord every night to bring me someone resemblin' Dale Jr. for my very own.

Don't you know it wasn't more than 2 weeks later I was out at the Starlight when someone came up behind me and dropped some peanuts in my coke-a-cola. I was about to blow a gasket, but when I looked up there was a boy so sweet lookin' he almost glowed. I swallowed hard and tried to say something clever but alls that came out was some type of snort. He said his name was Cletus and he thought I was real pretty.

All I could think about was that fortune on my mirror. "Ma'am, may I have this dance?" he asked and kicked the jukebox. We slowdanced to Shania and I told Cletus, "Honey you were sent from Heaven Above - I got warned about you 2 weeks ago in a fortune cookie!"

"What did it say?" he asked me. I told him and he gasped. "Lord, don't you know I done got the same one last Thursday! Tammy, we are meant to BE!!!"

Our first real date we went to Chinese of course, just to see if luck would strike us twice. I just knew there was love in the stars for us.

Cletus said to me, "Tammy, if we git the same fortune, I will drop down on my knees and ask you to marry me!" "YES, YES, YES," I cried, "It IS meant to be, Cletus!"

Well he opened his and read it outloud. "Open your eyes, love is near..." My heart stopped and I gazed at Cletus. Slowly I cracked open the cookie. I started to cry. It was empty. Just like so many times before I had had my hopes on a cookie, only to be left let down, disappointed and unfulfilled while someone else ended up happy and satisfied with their prize.

Posted by Carolinska on January 12, 2005 02:24 AM

In retrospect I think the type of story I wrote was not the particular kind in mind, but with a little tweaking it easily could become a nice mythical cosmogony on par with a little pseudo-divine revelation. Presently it's a persuasive satire. Enjoy.

I am not going to tickle your ears with a humorous recollection, or elicit smirks across your youthful faces with some anecdote of potent irony and culture. I am here to present to you the one indispensable, pure, immutable, absolute, and undeniable truth of existence—a truth so potent that you now only have to realize what it is you already believe. I will introduce you to the logical and reasonable religion of the one and only Invisible Pink Unicorn, blessed be her hooves.

That magnificent creature, the unicorn, has persisted in cultures both here and from afar for countless ages. With what I am about to say, the reason for her persistence will become immediately obvious and undeniable to each of you. The unicorn is a thing of ineffable beauty; and beauty, as we all well know, is the signature of the divine. Knowing that the divine exists, so intuitively as we do, and that the divine emanates beauty—ask yourself, how could the unicorn as a perfect expression of said beauty not exist? As sure as its beauty is apparent, so must its full existence beyond mere minds be equally real necessary. Though even the Bible records Her existence, many still doubt Her. However, the only reason for this childish doubt is that modern science simply can't see Her. My dear friends, Americans, countrymen, is it so hard to see that She is simply invisible? Myths of the unicorn from around the globe share one common theme: the unicorn. And as myths often begin with a factual core, so it is apparent that for Her to have persisted for so long, She must be as undeniable to us as She is to all of history.

For those of you who remain needless skeptics, I now turn to science to prove yet again what is already entirely too obvious to the open-minded individual. All things have a cause, we can clearly see. What then is the first cause, the very cause of the universe itself? Only one being has the infinite magical powers by which such a feat may be accomplished; and this we all know to be the the Invisible Pink Unicorn, may her mane flow freely. Seeing how even modern science cannot produce for its own delight something as simple as a twig, or much less explain the cause of the Big Bang, you must now realize that knowledge of the material world is of no matter in this discussion of ultimate Causes. Knowing of the Unicorn's existence—glorious is her horn—instead is a matter of believing in her first. If you first believe, then you will see that her magical color is pink. It is apparent that she must be pink, because being mother of us all, she is the originator of all beautiful feminine qualities—including but not limited to pinkness.

I will now present to you the situations of daily life that prove the practical necessity of her existence and Her immediate relevance to all her offspring. We have all, at one time or another, lost a left sock of a pair, and some of these have disappeared mysteriously never to return. By faith we of the religion of the Invisible Pink Unicorn—may Her coat forever glow pink—understand that it is She who has taken them. And this is a sign of Her blessings. And we have all seen, but not understood, the existence of pineapple and Canadian bacon pizza. What could explain this culinary enigma? Only the Invisible Pink Unicorn, mother of us all, is appropriate to invoke and effective for explaining such things as these.

I now call upon the magnificent Invisible Pink Unicorn to open each of your minds to Her obvious Truth, for though She has infinite patience for unbelievers, She would hate to have to trample you underfoot on the day of reckoning.

Posted by D-cal (formerly known as Daniel C) on January 12, 2005 02:58 AM

when saliva goes to bed at night, the city holds her breath until a distinctive first gurgle floats across the alleys. The slick sound of slobber desecrates stanley's succulent love song. I imagine a bird singing until it hits a window. full frontal.

to be continued by you_

Posted by carolin on January 12, 2005 05:50 AM

"Bob Pie's Life"

Unfortunately, today is Friday and Bob Pie was supposed to receive a paycheck. When he realized he did not receive it he became sad and returned home to his apartment.

Jeff Peters, Bob Pie's friend and roommate, was troubled by Bob's expression when he walk through the door. "I didn't get paid today," Bob Pie stated. "I'm sorry," replied Jeff Peters. Bob Pie's friends Paula and Anthony stopped in to say hello. They said hello and left. Then a Boy from Paula's art studio dropped in to say hello. He is a regular at Bob Pie's apartment as they have a history together in discussing dried fruit. Bob Pie noticed the boy had a new hair style. The Boy let Bob Pie know that Paula had made a comment on his hair earlier that week, saying it would affect his creative abilities.

Bob was upset about not getting his paycheck despite the cheer brought by his visiting friends. He decided to leave and buy chocolates for his boss, thinking it as a reminder to his boss to give Bob Pie his check. Do not misinterpret the boss. He is saucy and knows where to buy the finest books. He is invited to the finest parties. He is a health nut, but loves chocolate. He loves nugat. He loves the word "nugat." It makes his knees weak. His legs become as brittle as the inside of a pretzel rod. His muscles are reduced to mere Jello gelatin. His face becomes like sloppy molasses as a string of saliva slugs its way from the corner of his mouth onto his shiny leather driving gloves.

Monday had arrived and Bob Pie arrived to work to find his paycheck on his desk. There was also a thank you note for the chocolates and an apology from his boss. There was no apology actually, just a few simple words. It read "You are saucy....I love, Dwaine."

Posted by Wes Richardson on January 12, 2005 05:51 PM

In Meredith's Theory an Practice class Sophomore year I was listening attentively. I was sitting near the back beside Jan Tedder, talking about how delicious a boca burger would be at that very minute. The lecture started and i began to imagine other things I was going to eat for snack, supper, and breakfast. I was paying attention to every word that was being said at the same time I was teasing my hunger pains. I immediately heard a profound truism that warranted my notation. While attempting to revive my pen I sipped on the ball point just a little. Jan busted out laughing, but no one turned around. Meredith calmly asked what was going on. I started to laugh. She cracked up saying, "Anna Whitley why is your mouth blue?" So of course the whole class had to turn around and stare at me; until, I lost my guile and laughed hysterically showing off my blueness. The more blue, people saw, the the louder the laughter. So, Meredith offered an escape by suggesting that I, "Try to wipe it off with a paper towel."

Posted by ANNAW on January 13, 2005 04:46 AM

i'll take 3, please.

Posted by jan tedder on January 13, 2005 04:51 AM
of those, that is.

Posted by jan tedder on January 13, 2005 04:52 AM

skippy was tired of raleighwood and decided to expand his scenery. 28 hours, 1 day in the future, and 47 degrees cooler, he was home. but there were no men feeding their children to crocodiles and definitely no kangas in starter jackets. he'd been fooled. it was little america minus the mexicans.

the cities were few and far between (and well, the between was nothing but that—a filler). barren, rough and empty. the only thing skippy could find to do was to find a scooner. no worries, they only export foster's. they keep the good shit for themselves. good thing too, skippy found there was no cure for the cancer ball in the sky like a hot, thick ale.

soon skippy found a liking ot traveling. he made arrangements with his mate quantas about 31 times. so the graphic design was dodgy and a bit west coast. but damn those poms had picked a great isle of exile. beautiful beaches, amazing spciments, and of course, all of the most deadly animals in the world—land and sea. instant death awaited the innocent bystandards.

however strong the sting, the media was just as brutal. damn bush, damn the people. but skippy didn't worry. he knew deep down they wanted to be just like his people. he wasn't sure if it was the starbucks around the corner or the eminem street wear that alerted his senses... but he had a hinkering.

skippy found satisfaction in the sexy accents and bush tucker. so what if the doors open backwards and they don't have ketchup (just tomato sauce). he loved his mates and their potent beer too.

Posted by m. blume on January 13, 2005 01:33 PM


Where did Tony Brock go for the last hour?

Before going off to talk to Denise about the most brilliant conversation of all time about pattern and interactivity, Captain PA Brock first goes off to his office to arrange everything in his personal space to fit his exact specifications for arrangement that he has meticulously spent HOURS developing over the last five and a third years.

Meanwhile, back in studio, Anna Whitley comes in dressed in nothing but licorice and glitter & proceeds to steal Daniel's djembe with her broken arm. Miraculously it is healed, like it were healed by Jesus, but Jesus wouldn't do that. Unknown to studio folks or the department of chemical control, Anna has just devoured an entire liter of British turpentine & sawdust and is seeing images of Under Siege & RoadHouse in her mind. She stops for a moment to dance, as she is accustomed to stopping all her work and dancing with bears twice daily. Unfortunately for her, there are no dirty elbows around at this specific time.

Out of nowhere, pixies zoom in & start a fight with Anna, who had secretly stolen all their secrets and hidden them in her secret place, which is too secret for me to even know to tell you here. A terrible battle ensues.

Back in his office, Tony Brock has just rearranged his DVD collection for the third time today in the exact way that he wants. Suddenly, he realizes that there is a much more efficient manner in which to arrange the films. He can arrange them by genre AND alphabetically, while keeping his series & sets together in the alphabetical order of the FIRST of the series. That will keep them in order!

Empowered by Sprees & that little flaky stuff that grows on old Duracells after you find them YEARS later in the bottom of a toy drawer and they've ABSOLUTELY RUINED your Teddy Ruxpin, dammit, Anna crashes through the studio walls as if they aren't even not there, fighting pixies and tearing T's office to shreds. Tony's office sets on fire! Mr. Brock becomes so enraged that blood squirts from his tear ducts and he wrenches his action figure collection from hiding and prepares to chop Anna's soul apart, when, unexpectedly, Aliens from Western North Carolina (that's where they hover) stop & recollect Anna, who they had lost years ago on a duck hunting trip.

The Aliens use their alien ability to restore time and everything to its rightful disorder. Tony, back in place at his office as if nothing had happened, begins reorganizing things again as his mind was erased and he can't remember his ingenious plan for DVD organization. It's gooooooooood.

{audience members snack momentarily}

Returning to studio, which has been restored to disorder as well, Justin Stimmel finally realizes that, yes, he IS a German clone left over from WWII Nazi Superboy gene factories, and that he is, indeed, the most beautiful man alive.

Wes begins crying. Jonathan Harris offers him a cookie, and then some pizza, but Wes is too upset. You see, Jonathan Harris ate ALL of Wes' MP3s a year earlier, and Wes "HJ" Richardson really really really still kinda misses them sorta.

Forrest isn't even IN our studio!

Alex Ford invents the Model T&A while Alex Liollio adds more syllables to his name. He will one day become the Great Alexandriopolous Lillillillillilliolopopolousilililllio & shaves his head, swearing to never grow hair again.

As for that Courtney kid, he later has a sex change, becomes a woman, and marries the man of his fantasies, Miles Snow. At the wedding years later, Miles will leave Mattilda at the altar in lieu of his true love, Ron Perlman.

Tony returns to studio & makes everyone tell their story in front of each other. Nobody has half a clue what is going on, but Tony enjoys seeing us writhe & shine.

Most people's stories are stupid, but Tony likes Miles' for some reason.

Miles wants to be an actor.

Suddenly, Maggie and her 7 students enter and ruin everything. All the while people wonder:


{The answer is Three Chocolate Squirrels & Wes' lost hairgel}

Posted by matt courtney on January 14, 2005 04:38 AM


I was working at my dad's law office over the break and this incident occurred on the Thursday of last week. It was close to 4:30 in the afternoon and I was going to the back of the office to take some old files out to the garbage. I noticed Larry Snipes, a local CPA, standing in one of the doorways. When I saw him I got a little freaked out.

When I was a sophomore in high school I went to the prom with Suzanne Snipes, who happens to be Larry's daughter. I was a good friend of Suzanne's but I never wanted to date her. For some reason or another this really pissed Larry off. Ever since then he has had it out for me and I don't know why. Even at his daughter's wedding reception he was like this. I remember shaking his hand and saying, "I know this is a big day for you Mr. Snipes." In return he said, "Well, you could have had her son." My dad was standing there too when he said this. He told my mom what Larry had said and they both laughed really hard afterwards.

Anyway, I'm now standing in front of Larry again. He shook my hand and said, "So, you studying law here now." I said, "Well Mr. Snipes, I'm studying all sorts of things." Then he said, in front of my dad's secretary, "So are ya married yet." And then I said, "Na, I still consider myself a bit young to be married." Then he shrugged and said, "Hey, I was just asking."

Then as I turned to walk away he said, "Yeah, well, I thought Suzanne was too young to get married at one time but then again look at me now." And I said, "What do you mean." Then he said, "Well son, I'm now a proud grandad."

My dad's secretary, Linda Page, looked at me and rolled her eyes in a very subtle manner. I know just how she felt. This guy is completely ridiculous. I went on to the back to get that trashbag of files that needed to go out. While I was in the back I said to myself, "If that damn Larry is still outside when I go back outside and he says something else I'm going to have to return the favor."

Sure enough, I was walking back out with the garbagebag and Larry said, "Well boy, looks like you're doing ya daddy's dirty work for him." That was it. I had tried to be nice but that comment blew through my threshold like a blazing rocket.

I turned to Larry and said, "Well Mr. Snipes, I was always good at taking out the trash." He just looked at me speechless, like a pinned dog with no hope in sight. Linda Page was about to lose it, in fact she had to leave the room for a second. And on that note let me say this; Linda Page knows both Larry Snipes and me very well. And as for me, I just turned around and walked away. It turned out to be a really good day after that. Actually, make that a great one.

Posted by Miles on January 14, 2005 06:30 PM

For priest Ram it was one of the busiest days in the temple. The clock on the wall showed 8:00pm but deities kept pouring in. It was 9:30pm when he wrapped up all his temple activities. He lived on the other side of the town about an hour away from the temple because his income from priesthood would not allow him to afford anything better.

Thinking about his nagging wife, he kick started his scooter, slung his bag around the handle, jumped on the seat and took off like a racehorse. After sometime he heard the incessant whistling which turned out to be a policeman running behind his racing horse gesturing him to stop. Policemen in India earn their bread from government but butter on their own. Ram’s case seemed like a great opportunity for the policeman to earn his butter.

The policeman looked at Ram’s vehicle. It was one of a kind. His number plate looked like a brand new slate, which kids use for writing. Also Ram believed in conserving energy so he did not bother replacing his burnt-out bulbs. Instead, he had adapted himself to city’s one and only reliable resource, street lamps. About the speed of his racehorse, under usual circumstances his needle did not cross 30 kilometers and hour how much ever hard he tried but today all his years of prayers had paid off. He was doing closer to 50 kilometers.

The policeman started his usual interrogation with the rules about the visibility of the number plate, lighting, and the speed limit. Ram had two options either to starve for two days by emptying his wallet, or vanish into thin air with his racing horse. The first option had other consequences associated with it, his nagging wife. The second option, he didn’t trust his racing horse that much. By a sheer stroke of luck, he came up with a third and surefire option. He pulled out a broken coconut and some flowers from his bag that he had from his last prayers and handed it over to the policeman saying, “Have this prasadam (spiritual food). God bless you.” This left the policeman speechless…as he could not possibly be harsh to a temple priest who had just blessed him! Ram took the policeman’s confusion as an opportunity to make good his escape!

P.S.: Butter here stands for bribe. Unlike the U.S., the speeding ticket or point system in India is rarely followed. One just negotiates with the policeman on spot with their wallet.

Posted by Preethu on January 14, 2005 07:50 PM