Breathe and Stop Puns

"Once upon a time there was this lobster..."

100% of all people who breathe air have died, and if you try to stop breathing the poison you will die within minutes because of how addicted to air you are.

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

"I’ve got you a job," says his agent. "That’s great," says the actor, what is it?" "Well," says his agent, "it’s a one-liner" "That’s okay," replies the actor, "I’ve been out of work for so long I’ll take anything. What’s the line?" "Hark, I hear the cannons roar!" says the agent. "I love it" says the actor "When’s the audition?" "Wednesday" says the agent.

Wednesday comes and the actor arrives at the audition. He marches on stage and shouts: "Hark, I hear the cannons roar!"

"Brilliant," says the director, "you’ve got the job. Be here 9 o’clock Saturday evening."

The actor is so happy he got the job that he goes on a major drinking session. He wakes up at 8:30 Saturday evening and runs to the theatre continually repeating his line; "Hark, I hear the cannons roar, hark, I hear the cannons roar, hark, I hear the cannons roar."

He arrives at the stage entrance, out of breath and is stopped by the guard. "Who the hell are you?" asks the guard. "I’m "Hark, I hear the cannons roar." "If you’re "hark I hear the cannons roar.", you’re late. Get up to makeup right now!"

So he runs up to makeup. "Who are you?" asks the makeup girl. "I’m "hark I hear the cannons roar."" "If you’re hark I hear the cannons roar", you’re late. Sit down here." And she applies the makeup. "Now quick, get down to the stage, you’re about to go on."

He dashes down to the stage. "Who are you?" asks the stage manager. "I’m "hark, I hear the cannons roar."" "You’re "hark, I hear the cannons roar?" Get out there, the curtain’s about to go up."

He tears onto the stage. The curtains rise, the house is full. Suddenly there is an almighty bang behind him, and the actor shouts "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?"

Bump…

Bump…

Bump…

Walking faster, he looks back and through the fog he makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him.

Bump…

Bump…

BUMP…

Terrified, the man begins to run toward his home. The casket still bouncing quickly behind him.

Faster…

Faster…

FASTER…

Bump…

Bump…

BUMP…

He runs up to his door, fumbles with the keys, opens the door, rushes in and slams and locks the door behind him.

Rushing up the stairs to his bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding. His head is reeling. His breath is coming in sobbing gasps.

With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping towards him.

The man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is cough syrup!

Desperate, he throws the cough syrup as the casket!

And…

The coffin stops….

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

What tree do you wipe your hands on? A palm tree!

I heard a scary math joke, but I’m 2^^2 to tell it!

Have you heard of that new movie, “Constipation”? Well it doesn’t matter, it never came out.

I hurt myself when I went to a theme park in florida. When I went to the doctor, he started wrapping up my left leg, but then I pointed at my right and said “No, doc, it’s dis knee.”

Last night I got mugged by 6 dwarves. Not Happy.

When Queen Elizabeth farts, everyone in the room must pretend like nothing happened. Noble Gasses don’t cause reactions, after all.

What’s the difference between a seal and a sea lion? One electron.

What happens to nitrogen when the sun rises? It becomes Daytrogen!

I called the animal shelter today and said "I've found six kittens in a suitcase in the woods." They said "Are they moving?" I replied "I don't know, but that would explain the suitcase."

Why can’t you trust Atoms? Because they make up everything!

Why do nerds wear glasses? It helps with division.

Why should you tiptoe past the medicine cabinet? You don’t wanna wake the sleeping pills.

What twitches and is found at the bottom of the ocean? A nervous wreck!

What do you call a fat psychic? A four chin teller!

What do you call a 3 foot tall psychic on the run from the law? A small medium at large!

Help, I can’t stop reading books with female protagonists! I’m a heroine addict!

How did Sparticus react when he ate his wife for dinner? He was gladiator!

When does a joke become a dad joke? When the punchline becomes apparent!

19 and 20 got into a fight… 21.

My friend told me, “People who sell meat are disgusting!” So I said, “Yeah, well people who sell fruits and vegetables are grocer!”

How can turtles take photos of themselves? Shell-fie sticks!

What do you call a secret agent molecule? Bond… ionic bond. “Taken, not shared.” What did the dinosaur say to the other dinosaur? (Cut this part, but make a screeching noise)

How much does Santa’s sleigh cost? $0, it’s on the house.

If America switched from pounds to kilograms overnight there would be mass confusion.

I had a splinter once; it eventually got out of hand.

I’m going to go stand outside. If anyone asks, I’m outstanding.

Most people are shocked to find out how terrible an electrician I am!

What do mermaids wash their fins with? Tide What’s the coolest place to use the bathroom? The Lil Jon

Did you know that on average, people want three covers on their bed at all times? But that’s just a blanket statem

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

The B-road starts bragging extensively about his status as a B-road. The bar staff and patrons aren't impressed.

Then, an A-road struts in. The A-road immediately starts criticising the B-road, whilst also bragging about his own status. The two get into a big argument, and the patrons are starting to get riled up.

Then, a motorway barges his way into the bar, and starts boasting that he is better than the A-road and B-road combined. The argument escalates, and some customers grab their belongings, preparing to leave.

And then, a solid white line walks into the bar.

The whole bar falls silent. The argument stops dead in its tracks, and the three roads immediately disperse, avoiding eye contact with the new customer.

The solid white line goes up to the bar, orders a drink, and consumes it slowly. The bar is still silent. As soon as he is finished, the solid white line turns and leaves the bar without a word. The three roads breathe a sigh of relief.

The barman is astounded. "What the hell was that about?!" he exclaims.

"We don't mess with him" mutters the motorway.

"Why not?"

"He's a cycle path".

There isn’t another soul on the street.

Suddenly, from out of the gloom, comes an ominous bump...bump…bump.

He looks behind him and spots a furtive, shadowy thing coming down the street after him.

Unnerved, he picks up his pace, finally breaking into a panicked run.

He looks behind him again, and the shadow is closer.

Bump…bump…bump.

The glow of a streetlight illuminates the shadow momentarily, and, to the man’s horror, it is a coffin, bumping down the sidewalk.

He quickens his pace, running as fast as he can go, but the coffin only pursues more quickly.

BUMP…BUMP…BUMP!

He reaches his house, fumbles frantically for his keys, and slips in the door just as the coffin reaches his front steps.

He slams the door and leans against it, catching his breath.

Bump…bump…bump.

There is a moment’s silence, and the man wonders if he dares to breathe.

Suddenly…. Bump…bump…bump…Bump…

BUMP! BUMP!

BUMPBUMPBUMPCRAAAAASH!!!!

He rebounds away as the door breaks off its hinges.

Scrambling to his feet, he charges up the stairs, and the coffin races after.

BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP!

Terrified, he backs into a corner and starts throwing everything within reach at the coffin — a handful of papers, a vase, a box of crackers, a lamp — but the coffin keeps coming!

BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP INCHESFROMHISFACE, and nothing seems to slow it down!

His hands fall upon a bottle of cough syrup, and he throws that at the coffin, too!

The coffin stops.

A great bundle of Internet puns; enjoy!

You despise Microsoft FrontPage as a web editing tool and as extensions to your webserver.

You can answer the question ‘is the internet broken’ without laughing.

You can spot the theme behind the following list: RedHat, SuSE, Debian, Caldera, Slackware.

You can feel the load a server is under without actually checking statistics. It ‘just isn’t running right’ actually makes sense.

You maintain more than four websites and do not have time for a personal web page.

You know all of the following people by reputation and can explain what they’ve done that is relevant to your world: Steve Case, Linus Torvalds, Eric Allman, Sanford Wallace.

You know what TCP/IP stands for, not to mention DNS, HTTP, SNMP, BGP, OSPF, and DUN. You like acronyms.

I think Bing could have totally crushed Google if they had called it “Bang”. I mean, think about it.. “I BANGED Emma Watson last night.”

The Internet: where men are men, women are men, and children are the FBI…

On the Internet you can be anything you want. It’s so strange that many people choose to be stupid.

Girls are like an internet virus: they enter your life, scan your pockets, transfer money, edit your mind, download their problems and delete your smile…

Chuck Norris created the World Wide Web using a typewriter. When Chuck Norris plays hide and seek, even google can’t find him.

A press release: “Yesterday, for the first time a hacker was convicted of network penetration and went to jail to serve a 12 years sentence. According to the data of the central computer of the police, the hacker goes to liberty the day after tomorrow because of expiration of the sentence.”

Justin Bieber got 100,000 retweets for tweeting “Live life full”. That’s just 3 random words. I’m going to try now. Jockstrap squirrel potatoes.

Facebook: “My kids are perfect.” Instagram: “My kids are beautiful.” Twitter: “My kids are why I drink.”

The facts on this website are Chuck Norris’ smallest acheivements. If you knew what he was really capable of, you would never sleep at night.

Teacher: If you spend all your time sitting round playing on the Internet, you’ll be fat and useless when you grow up. Pupil: Wow! You must have spent hours surfing when you were a kid!

What kind of doctor fixes broken websites? An URLologist.

Three college students (Jim, Tom, and Steve) decided to stay overnight in an abandoned house that was supposedly haunted, all to prove that there was nothing supernatural there. They decided to sleep in separate rooms to increase chances of scary things happening. Each room was connected to one long hallway which lead to some stairs. After a while, the three called it a night and went to their separate rooms.

At midnight, Jim woke up to the sound of a scream coming from one of the rooms. He ran out into the hall where he met Steve, who also had just woken up. They walked into Tom’s room, and he was nowhere to be found. “Surely this must be a prank” thought Jim, and he and Steve decided to go back to bed. He slept for almost an hour when Jim woke up to another scream coming from a different room. He ran into the hall, and this time Steve did not join him. He walked into Steve’s room, and noticed that Steve had completely vanished. Still in the mindset that this was a prank by his two friends two, Jim went back to bed.

An hour later, Jim woke up to the sound of thumping in the hallway. He went out of his room and saw a giant coffin with chainsaws attached to where arms would be. The coffin was also blocking the exit, meaning that the only way to go was the stairs! Jim immediately ran up them as fast as he could. He stopped to catch his breath, then heard the thumping of something coming up the stairs, so he started running again! He ran into another set of stairs going up, so he ran up them as fast as he could. He stopped to catch his breath, when once again, he heard the thumping of something coming up the stairs, so he started to run. Eventually, he reached a dead end in a bathroom. He turned around to see the coffin at the doorway. Frantically, Jim scavenged the cabinets for anything he could use to fight it. All he could find was some cough drops. Using all the strength he had, he threw the cough drops at the coffin. Upon impact, the coffin suddenly started to dissolve! Before long nothing remained of it. Jim was astonished! The cough drops had stopped his coffin.

This bull had won best in show awards. Groomed daily, perfect stance, it was a great bull.

One day the farmer goes out and sees the bull has gone cross-eyed. This was going to ruin ant chance of future awards, so he called the livestock vet out.

The veterinarian gets there and examines the bull, realizes he's seen this happen before and grabs a narrow metal tube from the back of his truck.

He brings the tube over and jams the tip of it into the bulls hind end and proceeds to blow as hard as he can through the end of it.

The farmer looks at the bulls eyes as the vet is blowing into the bulls backside and says "it's working! I see his eyes straightening right up, keep doing it!"

The vet blows and blows his face and cheeks turning red and finally says, "I'm out of breath I can't do it anymore, his eyes are almost straight you'll have to finish"

The farmer comes over and grabs the tube, pulls it out, turns it around and puts it back in the other way, the vet stops him and says, "What on Earth are you doing?"

The farmer says, "Well I don't want to put my mouth on the same end you did!"

I was doing some math problems in class, and got annoyed at one problem I forgot how to do. I let out a quiet "Fuck you" under my breath at the calculator.

My best friend who was sitting next to me heard me, and said, "Maybe the calculator wouldn't be so mean to you if you stopped pushing its buttons."

We cracked up and immediately repeated the joke to everyone around us, who were disappointed in her lame (awesome) joke.

My friend is a teenage girl. Not a father. Maybe there's a dad hidden in us all....

My friend and I occasionally play real shitty music as a joke (One Last Breath, etc). So the other day I'm at his house playing video games and "The Reason" by Hoobastank comes on. While it's playing I'm getting whooped in the game we're playing pretty badly and so I'm complaining about it. I'm doing all I can to not get whooped but the whoops don't stop and eventually my friend says, "Dude, maybe it's the song." So I looked at my friend and said, "so you're telling me that the song is The Reason?"

I was using a stud finder to make sure the fixture I was hanging had enough support

"I've never seen a stud this big"

Girlfriend responds and points at me

"I have"

Palm to face and she laughed so hard she stopped breathing.

I'm gonna make you go through the story before the payoff.

My mom asked me, "Do you have a match?" and then answered herself, "Yeah, your breath and my feet!" I looked at her quizzically and she explained that my dad used to say that when they were dating - either that or "Not since Superman." He used to say that there were "no new jokes, just new audiences."

So when my dad walks in, my mom asks him if he has a match.

What does he say?

"Not since Superman."

As Mom and I are cracking up, he says, "Well, I could have said 'your breath and my feet!'"

Mom tells him that she was telling me about how he used to say that to her, and what does he say?

"Well, you know, there are no new jokes. Just new audiences."

My dad's jokes are like a stopped clock. Infuriating, but at least you can count on them to never change.

I was sitting in a local Mexican food place with my wife having a late lunch and spot my 19yo daughter in the parking lot driving in her car with my 16yo daughter in the passenger seat. They were just returning from Vidcon.

They drove in front of the restaurant not noticing my wife's parked truck. I bolted out of the door of the restaurant and ran full tilt 500 yards across the parking lot following them all while ducking and weaving around cars so as not to be spotted. They pulled into a gas station on the other side of the parking lot from the restaurant just as I was able to sneak between the pumps and slam myself against her windshield and fall to the ground as if I had been hit. Then I flopped around on the ground like a fish.

It scared my 19yo daughter so bad she actually pee'd a little and couldn't stop crying. My 16yo was laughing so hard she couldn't breath.

I'm a bad Dad.

TL;DR: Bad father scared teenage daughter so bad she pee'd then cried.

Edit: Words

[Person A and B are jogging]

Person A: Why did you stop?

Person B: Wheeze I just need to catch my breath...

Person A: If you want to catch it, you will never get to it by stopping!

They snuck from their beds in the middle of the night and met in the gloomy darkness in front of the house, shivering in the cold.

The first boy said in a loud whisper, "You guys bring anything?" He slid a gun out of his pocket. The second boy nodded and revealed a knife. The third boy pulled out a flashlight.

"You didn't bring a weapon?" the first boy asked. He shrugged and replied, "Sorry". And as if to prove it, he turned his pockets out to show nothing but stray lint and a pack of cough drops.

They crept in. The door shut behind them. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. The flash light clicked on. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door on the other side, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a dead body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They found a fully set, ornate dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal goblets, pitchers and silverware adorned the table. Spiders crept over ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hel

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

When behind him he hears:

BUMP...

BUMP...

BUMP...

Walking faster, he looks back and makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street towards him.

BUMP...

BUMP...

BUMP...

Terrified, the man begins running home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him.

FASTER

FASTER

BUMP...

BUMP...

BUMP...

He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, and slams it shut and locks it behind him.

However, the casket crashes through the door, with the lid of the casket clacking

Clapity-BUMP...

Clapity-BUMP...

Clapity-BUMP...

on his heels, the terrified man runs.

Rushing upstairs in the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps.

With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping towards him

A man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! Desperate, he throws the bottle of cough syrup at the casket and...

The coffin stops.

A man is walking home alone one foggy evening, when behind him he faintly hears:

thump...

thump...

thump...

Senses tingling, he begins walking faster only to look back and make out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street towards him.

THUMP...

THUMP...

THUMP...

Terrified, the man begins running home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him.

FASTER

FASTER

THUMP...

THUMP...

THUMP...

He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, slams it shut and locks it behind him.

However, the casket crashes through the door, and with the lid of the casket clacking on his heels, the terrified man runs.

Clappity-THUMP...

Clappity-THUMP...

Clappity-THUMP...

Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps.

With a loud CRASH! the casket breaks down the door. Thumping and clapping towards him, the man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! Desperate, he throws it at the casket and...

The coffin stops.