"Who was that?" asked my wife.
"Just some drunk asking for a push." I grumbled.
"Did you help him?" she asked.
"No, I did NOT! It's 3am and it's pouring rain!"
"Well, you've a short memory." she said. "Don't you remember three months ago when we broke down and those two guys helped us? You should be ashamed of yourself! Now get out there and help him!"
She had a point, and angrily, I got dressed and went out into the darkness, calling out, "Hello, are you still there?"
"Yes."
"Do you still need a push?"
"Yes please."
"Where are you?"
"Over here...on the swing."
... And said 'Honey, he will be e-turtle-y grateful.'
This is a true story, happened today.
I’m not too worried, I think she’s jokinlkjhfakljn m,.nbziyoao78yv87dfaoyuofaytdf
Which sucked, because I thought we needed the closure...
I told her not to slam The Doors in my house.
It was his own asphalt
They just didn't give a fork...
He sits down, orders a beer, and begins to mull over his day.
After a few minutes he hears a quiet, and high pitched voice say "I like your shirt". He looks around and doesn't see anybody, so he goes back to his drink.
A few sips later he hears the same voice say "You have lovely eyes". He looks around again half expecting to see Alvin the chipmunk, but there is nothing.
After a few more sips, he hears it again, "I bet your parents are real proud of you". Finally he has had enough. He slams his drink down, looks over at the bartender, and says "what the hell is that high pitched voice I am hearing?!"
The bartender looks up and says "Its the peanuts...
They're complimentary."
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡In one particular scene he’s strolling down a busy street in NYC and a taxi almost hits him. He slams the hood of the taxi and yells
Hey I’m Joaquin here!
Me: What did I say about slamming The Doors?
Michael Gourdan
I told her it was one night stand...
...it was called Prose and Cons.
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….
People fall over for it.
Nobody slams the Doors in my house
I can’t stanza way they speak.
I snapped.
“Oh, and what is this special talent?” Asked the priest.
The applicant walked up to the bells and slammed his face into the bell.
At first the priest was taken aback, but the sound from the bells was heavenly!
“You’re hired!!” He exclaimed.
The applicant jumped around in excitement and slipped, falling off the side of the belfry to the ground below.
The priest ran downstairs and outside to the sidewalk where the bell ringer lay dead.
A bystander asked “who is he?”
The priest responded “I don’t know his name, but his face sure rings a bell!”
And it makes it easier to slam the door and run so I don’t have to pay for dinner.
To be clear, WHO let the dogs out.
They really knocked it out of the park.
The clone slammed me into a wall and lifted me by the neck. What could I do? I’d been hoisted by my own Picard.
When I take it off the hinges and turn it into my new workbench because you won't stop slamming it, young man!
"I'VE HAD ALL I CAN STANZA AND CAN'T STANZA NO MORE!"
Knowing a slam book could not be replaced I tried consoling him, but I remembered digitalized it for him a year ago I quickly logged on to the PC to check if I had a backup. He quickly smiled and said it had a Blue cover, after about 10mins of searching I asked him if he remembered what I named the book. He burst out and said Facebook.
Frustrated I left the room to find my entire family sitting in the hall, and my mother goes "He did it to you too, didn't he"
And I'm here perplexed by the lengths a dad would go for his jokes.
YOU CURS
I think I have a concuss-shin.
My mom teased my dad by calling him gay. This is how my Dad retaliated.
Dad: your ex boyfriend was hot .
Mom: which one?
Dad: Me
Apparently, he reads lips.
My friend got a new car and we were riding in it.
Me "what year is it?"
Him "2005"
Me "oh that's weird, I thought it was 2014"
... his dad calls angrily after him: "YOUNG MAN, WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT SLAMMING THE DOORS?!"
...but I think she's jokinfjreoiwjrtwe4to8rkljreun8f4ny84c8y4t58lym4wthylmhawt4mylt4amlathnatyn
Don't worry guys, I think she's jokinlkjhfakljn m,.nbziyoao78yv87dfaoyuofaytdf
Nobody slams the Doors in my house!!
He slams the door and returns to bed.
"Who was that?" asked his wife.
"Just some drunk guy asking for a push." he answers.
"Did you help him?" she asks.
"No, I did not! It's three in the morning and it's pouring out!"
"Well, you have a short memory." says his wife. "Can't you remember about three months ago when we broke down and those two guys helped us? I think you should help him and you should be ashamed of yourself!"
The man does as he is told, gets dressed, and goes out into the pounding rain.
He calls out into the dark, "Hello, are you still there?"
"Yes." comes back the answer.
"Do you still need a push?" calls out the husband.
"Yes, please!" comes the reply from the dark.
"Where are you?" asks the husband.
"Over here, on the swing."
