...he’s really a big lyre.
With Saddle-Lights!
A navi-gator.
A pigeon.
To pull down its genes.
They just take the pyscho path
Instepcion
I'll be able to keep her Altima self.
They just need to have faith.
A husband and wife approached my register, and there's a variety of ways a customer will tell me they are in our rewards program. "I'm in the club." "I have a rewards card." Etc. There are a couple of weird ones people say, which brings us to this exchange I witnessed:
> Me: hi there, did you find everything okay?
> Wife: Yes, thank you. points to my till I'm in your computer, there.
> Husband: How the HELL did you fit in there?
> Wife: No, I meant I'm in the system!
> Husband: GASP You didn't tell me you were arrested!!!
> Wife: I swear to God I'm gonna hurt you.
Keep trying.
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 ➡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….
A man named Dave comes home very drunk late at night...
So this guy has been drinking with his buddies all night and he's as drunk as a skunk, gets home, falls up the stairs, undresses and goes to bed next to his wife. He falls asleep and next thing he knows, bang, he dies and finds himself waiting at the pearly gates.
The guy refuses to believe this is happening, he says to St. Peter: "This can't be possible, I'm a healthy man! This is not the way I die. You have to let me return down there!"
The guy can see St. Peter looks like he's feeling sorry for him, but he tells him that unfortunately, there's no policy for allowing people back on Earth. The guy insists: "But come on, there's got to be something you can do! I'll put up with anything, really, as long as you let me go back down."
So St. Peters tells him: "Well really, there's just this one possibility: you can go back, but only as a hen. That's the only thing we can allow." The guy guesses that this really is his only chance, so he agrees reluctantly.
So he's back on Earth in this beautiful chicken coop, the sun is shining, there's green grass everywhere, this is hen paradise. The other hens greet him with delight and he tells them his story, everything goes nicely. But then he feels kind of unwell, there's something wrong with his stomach. He asks this old hen: "Tell me, I've got this weird feeling in my belly, I'm not too well. What is happening to me?"
The old hen: "Well dearie, we hens lay eggs, you know. I bet you've never laid a nice egg before... You need to push it out now, and you'll feel much better after!"
So the guy pushes and pushes, and wham, out pops his first egg. The old hen congratulates him and he feels much better. But not 5 minutes later, his pain comes back. He returns to the old hen for advice.
"Well dearie, it's quite special but it happens that you need to lay TWO eggs, so go back there and keep pushing!"
So he goes back to his nest and pushes, and nothing comes, and he pushes harder, and wham, out comes his second egg! He feels much better, but not 2 minutes later, you guessed it, he's back in terrible pain and goes to see the old hen.
"What's this bullshit here, and don't tell me I've got a third egg to lay!" The old hen can't make head or tail of it and just tells him that when in doubt, he should be pushing. So the guy goes back to work and then, wham, his wife wakes him up with this smashing slap in the face and yells: "*Dave! Dave wake up you’re
... keep reading on reddit ➡WORKING ON A JOB
My first job was working in an orange juice factory, but I got canned I just couldn’t concentrate. . Then I worked in the woods as a lumberjack, but I just couldn’t hack it, so they gave me the axe. . After that I tried to be a tailor, but I just wasn’t suited for it. The job was only so-so anyhow. . Next I tried working in a muffler factory, but that was exhausting. . I wanted to be a barber, but I just couldn’t cut it. . I attempted to be a deli worker, but any way I sliced it, I couldn’t cut the mustard. . My best job was being a musician, but eventually I found I wasn’t note worthy. . I studied a long time to become a doctor, but I didn’t have any patience. . Next was a job in a shoe factory; but it just wasn’t the right fit. . I became a professional fisherman, but discovered that I couldn’t live on my net income. . I thought about becoming a witch, so I tried that for a spell. . I managed to get a good job working for a pool maintenance company, but the work was just too draining. . After many years of trying to find steady work, I finally got a job as a historian, until I realized there was no future in it. . My last job was working at Starbucks, but I had to quit, because it was always the same old grind.
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡So if thats true then depending on where you are you would be of an average race, have average hair, etc.
And going down from that, alot of people have the same name, making certain names normal or "average".
What im saying is, thats a really complicated way to find the average Joe.
I'm going on a self discovery journey, trying to find my way and reason... Destination How-why.
...I have to find a way to turn my life around before I start hitting the transmission fluid. That would shift my addiction into high gear.
Three older ladies were discussing the travails of getting older. One said, “Sometimes I catch myself with a jar of mayonnaise in my hand in front of the refrigerator and can’t remember whether I need to put it away, or start making a sandwich.”
The second lady chimed in, “Yes, some times I find myself on the landing of the stairs and can’t remember whether I was on my way up or on my way down.”
The third one responded, ” Well, I’m glad I don’t have that problem; knock on wood,” as she rapped her knuckles on the table, then told them “That must be the door, I’ll get it!”
So, for Easter, my wife and I got our 2-year-old an array of balloons from a delivery service, including some pre-inflated pieces you could “build your own butterfly” with, etc. It was pretty cool, but coolest of all was this clear balloon pretty tightly inflated with a single penny in it, and if you shook the balloon enough, the penny would eventually find its way to circling the inside of the balloon.
Those balloons lasted for weeks, until today. If you’ve ever seen a clear balloon deflate, you know it gets a little yellow and opaque.
My wife found it laying around and brought it to me, saying, “This looks like a condom with a penny in it.” And I said, “That’s why they call it a money shot.”
Don't worry though, he always finds a way to land on his feet.
I cant even find a way to describe this Injustice!!!!
Surrounded by his son, his twin daughters and a haggard-looking nurse who looked about ready to end it all if only she could find the bloody switch, he was finally breathing his last.
His son, who loved him dearly and wasn't at all sure if he had been cut out of the will or not, burst into tears at the plight of a man who would look more at home in a red woolly outfit than he ever could in drab, white linen.
"I do not wish to die today, Anthony", he intoned fixing his gaze slightly above his son's left shoulder, "there is something you must do to save me."
"Tell me what to do dad, I can't bear to look at you this way", cried Anthony.
"There is a land, not far from here, where no one ever dies. It is not for dying you see. That is where I must go."
"Where is this place father? Tell me, and I shall take you to it."
"Take me there now", he said faintly as if in great pain, "Take me to, The Living Room."
After a short time, he realizes he is hopelessly lost. He gets hungry, but with no knowledge of a way to gain food, he decides to resort to cannablism. He begins to eat his arm, but soon finds he is satisfied and no longer hungry. This idiot in the woods was full of himself.
Three dads are stranded on a boat drifting in the middle of the ocean. They begin to accept the inevitable and they all agree to smoke one last cigarette together before succumbing to starvation and dehydration. They open up the last pack of cigarettes to find the final four cigarettes. As they hold the cigarettes in their mouth, they quickly realize they have no way to light them. Each of them sit in silence puzzling over the situation they find themselves in. Finally one dad exclaims he has a solution, he takes the last cigarette out of the pack and toss it overboard. He then says to the other two dads “Now the whole boat is a cigarette lighter!”.
The problem, however, is that there isn't enough light for the immigrants to find their way back to Mexico. Because of this, the Don institutes his "Early Light" plan in order to give the immigrants a way to see. One immigrant, Jose, is partially blind, so they are wondering if the "Early Light" program will still allow him to see. The ask him: Jose can you see by the Don's "Early Light."
Once upon a time there were three little pigs, Pork Chop, Hambone, and Bacon.
The boys lived at home with their mother. One day their mother said, “I no longer have enough food to feed you boys, you need to go out on your own and find your fortunes.”
Not wanting to upset their mother they left the house together to seek their fortunes.
Several miles into their journey Bacon, the little pig everyone liked best, said, “Let’s build our houses here! This seems like a great place to start making our fortunes.”
Pork Chop and Hambone agreed. So they all began building their houses.
Pork Chop, the laziest of the bunch, decided to build his house out of straw, which he apparently stole from a nearby field. It was not a very sturdy building material, but Pork Chop didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play all day, and he didn’t want to spend too much time building.
Hambone was willing to work a bit harder and he decided to build his house out of sticks which he procured by de-limbing every tree within a 300 meter radius of their homestead.
Hambone and Pork Chop were happy. Now all they had to do was to play and sleep the rest of the day.
Now Bacon was a hard worker. He knew that his brothers had used bad materials and shoddy construction methods and he wanted to build the best house he could. He found several tons of bricks stacked in neatly ordered pallets in the forest which he decided to use for his building material. It took him several days, but when he was done Bacon had the best house on the homestead.
The next day a wolf, Scott Howard, happened upon the pig brothers and their new homestead. He spied the straw house and smelled Pork Chop inside and began to think to himself that Pork Chop would make a mighty fine meal, so Scott went and knocked on the door.
Scott said, “Little Pig! Little Pig! Let me in!”
Pork Chop replied, “No way José! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”
Scott, undeterred by the reply says, “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crappy straw house to the ground!”
Scott began to huff and puff. He was evidently having some sort of asthma attack, but after a few tugs from his handy dandy rescue inhaler, he was able to muster enough wind to blow Pork Chops straw house to the ground.
Pork Chop narrowly escaped Scott’s massive jaws. Scared, and now homeless, Pork Chop ran for the nearest shelter he could see. Hambone’s house.
Scott, undeterred, chased Pork Chop to his new hiding place. Scott was very pleas
... keep reading on reddit ➡Back a few decades, I was working in a program with a local college in the Middle East.
The name of the program for ExPats has the clever acronym of "IDEA" (hey, I said it was clever); which stands for "Inter-Departmental Educational Adjunct". It's interdepartmental because my particular specialty not only covers field geology but also paleontology and a bit of archeology thrown in for good measure. Everyone hopes to have a good IDEA...
ahem...
Well, we saddle up and head for the Dune Sea out in the west of the country, where the Precambrian, Cambrian, Silurian, Cretaceous, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and Holocene crop out and access is relatively easy and non-injurious.
Well, we caravan out, some 30 Land Cruisers, Nissan patrol, and the odd Mitsubishi Galloper strong. We all get our maps, compasses and split up into 5 or 6 special interest groups ("SIG's"); where each IDEA has his own GPS and LIDAR laser ranging apparatus. Reason being, that there are very few benchmarks out in the desert, and even those are constantly at the mercy of the shifting and ever-blowing sands.
Since we're split into groups and at any one time, ranging up to and including some 50 km2, when a real find is located, a device called the "DIME" (Digital-Interface Monitor Encoder) is attached and programmed into the GPS for location later; it is a digital sort of low-frequency transponder, developed from technology used by offshore drillers and jacket setters where benchmarks are even more transitory.
The way it works is rather simple. When something is to be marked for later retrieval, a series of wooden posts are pounded in a triangular manner around the find and the DIME is set, programmed with the GPS and attached to one or more of the posts.
That's the theory, at least.
Everything works well, especially all the hardened electronics and computer gizmos, but attaching the DIME to the stakes is the real problem. It can't be nailed, screwed or fastened with any sort of metal contrivance as that farkles the magnetic field and causes all sorts of goofy spurious signals. Zip ties don't last long in the heat and duct tape is right out. Many sites have been lost to the shifting sands this way.
Velcro doesn't work too well, as the sand fills the hooks of the receiving piece of velcro and soon renders it useless. String or fishing line work, but that's temporary (they melt). Glue or mastic are out as these are supposed to be temporary. Even plastic sleeves don't work due to the heat out
... keep reading on reddit ➡Two farmers, Ben and Dave, are discussing their produce. Ben mentions that there has been a strange recent demand in duck eggs, and is going to begin producing them. Dave replies that he tried to produce them long ago, but had to stop due to issues with their delivery.
"What issues?" Asks Ben, with a confused expression on his face.
"They caused way too much mess in the delivery truck," Dave explains, "You'll find out soon enough, duck eggs quack really easily."
So once upon a time, there was a planet shaped like a cheerio. A small moon made of milk or tied the planet, going through the center of the donut shaped world. On this planet, lived an interesting species. They acted and lived similarly to us humans? But looked just like large Cheerios (with footings hands and feet like miis) Within this society there were levels of Cheerios: original, honey nut, and finally frosted. The originals were the backbone of the economy, doing the herd labor while the honey nuts ran the businesses and the frosted Cheerios (the top of the top) led the world. Our story today focuses on a single Cheerio. Born into an original Cheerio family, this lad learned the hard way how to work. From a young age, he was forced to get a job in the local milk refinery, where his dad worked. He grew up, and soon had a family of his own. His wife, son, and daughter all worked hard, but were happy. One day walking home from school, the kids found a runaway honey nut Cheerio pup, and decided to keep him. It wasn’t much, but it inspired our little Cheerio friend here. One day, he got fed up with taking orders, and demanded a raise. His entire family has worked in this one factory for three generations, and he wanted to move up in the world, not just for him but also his kids. His old boss however, did not have the power to promote this Cheerio, and he was forced to make a life changing decision: he would go to the refinery company and use every penny in the family savings account (under the bed) to try and get a higher position. After waiting on line for over a week, his appoint was finally here. After bickering and bargaining for hours, the refinery company boss saw a spark in this lad’s eye. He agreed to give this Cheerio a promotion to the honored honey nut glaze in exchange for everything this man owned, including the family’s prized honey nut dog. Was it worth it? Well pretty soon he owned his own milk refinery and was able to breed his own honey nut dogs, so yes, yes it was. Owning and operating the refinery went smoothly. Milk was transported from the moon to the planet using space busses, and the milk itself was funneled down to the refineries using large straws. After the milk was ready to drink, it was shipped off to be sold. He was happy working here, but eventually he realized it wasn’t enough. This Cheerio, once a simple original Cheerio wanted to follow the “American dream” and do the best he could. He wanted to become a frosted Ch
... keep reading on reddit ➡Sofa I’ve been getting very few customers. It’ll be good if I get some soon. That would help cushion the blow when I tell my wife where the money went. Anyways, I better find a way to fix this. The chairholders aren’t too happy
If your onion sang hip-hop, would that be a rapscallion?
I used to be an astronaut, but I got tired of eating out of satellite dishes. I wasn't allowed to eat the Milky Way, even though I had to look at it every day. The worst thing was, I never got to visit The Space Bar. Then, when I was visiting the dark side of the moon, I was bitten by a parasite. Now, you might think it's crazy, but the doctor who removed it called it a lunar-tick.
If "womb" is pronounced "woom" and "tomb" is pronounced "toom", shouldn't "bomb" be pronounced "boom"?
China recently tested a new steroid. It basically turns you into The Hulk. The side effect is it could turn you into a crazed zombie that tends to rip the upper extremities from people. People are saying that this could be the zombie apocalypse. In my opinion, lips have nothing to do with it. I call it ARMageddon. The only way to stay safe now is to not let anyone close enough to disarm you.
I recently was going to join the railroad union. I decided against it because it's complicated. If I received instruction on driving the locomotive, would they call it engineering, or training?
I got a sad story about a flower. I don't know who the heck she pissed off, but damn, now she's a Black-Eyed Susan.
I finally figured out what makes leaves angry. Fall. They get so mad they change color. Some are yellow. They're just afraid and run from their problems. The other ones usually just leave.
I went parachuting with my military buddies once. We landed on a department store. I told him I think we're at the wrong coordinates. He said: "Nope. We're right on Target"
I asked a psychologist if Native Americans have strong emotions. He said "Oh yeah, they're intense".
If a psychotic person thought something made sense, would that thought be psychological?
If Matt Damon were searching for a secondhand store, would he be Goodwill Hunting?
My friend is a Marksman for the military. One day, he went to the armory and asked for 3 snipers. They gave him a candy bar. It was a 3 Musketeers.
I want to be there if Dwayne Johnson ever uses a pizza stone. That way I can smell what "The Rock" is cookin'.
Christopher bought a lemon, and the car broke down. Now Christopher Walken.
Have you heard about the latest bank battle on Wall Street? Capital One and Chase got in a fight and Capital One.
You know what a pirate says to his wenches when he sees the shoreline? "LAND HO!"
A man finds a lamp in the desert and dusts it off. Poof! A genie p
... keep reading on reddit ➡As a professional children's entertainer, finding the dad jokes thread has been a real blessing. I work mainly with children between the ages of four and eight, and, for obvious reasons, I need to keep my jokes clean. In my business, a groan is just as good as the laugh because it usually is accompanied by a smile!
I'm afraid I don't know who started it, but the "this paper says otherwise" is easily one of my favorites. I took the liberty of having 500 business cards that say "otherwise" on them. I use them in my performances in a variety of ways. If I see a dad after my show who looks like the type who might enjoy a good pun, I will go up to him and ask him if he thought the show was good. Inevitably he will say yes, and I'll tell him that "Unfortunately this card says otherwise." I then leave the dad with the card to use at his own behest.
Just wanted to give a big shout out and a big thank you to the Dad jokes community for inspiration. People ask me what I do for a living and I tell them I'm the Jimmy Fallon to five-year-olds. Thanks so much for contributing all you guys do!
He seats himself at a table. The sight is so strange that the owner comes over personally and asks, "Can I help you?" The panda replies, "Do you have anything with bamboo?" The owner answers, "We have a few Chinese dishes that have bamboo." The panda says, "I'll just have the bamboo." So the owner heads to the kitchen and soon returns with a plate of bamboo. The panda eats every last morsel, then pulls out a pistol, fires it into the ceiling, and walks out. The owner is startled and completely confused, so he follows the panda all the way back to the zoo. When he finds the zoo keeper, he walks up and asks, "Do you have any idea what your panda just did? He came into my restaurant, ate a bunch of bamboo, pulled out a pistol, fired it into the ceiling, and walked out." The zoo keeper replied, "Well, of course, he's a panda; that's what they do." Then, when he saw the owner was still confused, added, "Haven't you ever read about pandas?" More confused than ever, the owner walks home. He gets out his old set of encyclopedias, dusts off the letter "P, " and turns to the entry on pandas: "The panda is a large mammal, native to China; it eats bamboo shoots and leaves."
The last couple of weeks have been rough with rough patches going on with my relationship with my fiance and other stuff in general. I wasnt able to do much for New Years and had to spend it alone for the first time in several years.
Its sounds corny, but reading through all the "last year" jokes has brought joy to my life and brought genuine laughter when it's been hard for me to find it, especially recently. It's hard to smile, especially during rough patches of life, but you've brightened my evening in a way that I havent felt in a while.
I hope you all have a great 2019, and thank you again.
(You could say that I spent all year writing this :P)
A man decides to see if he can teach his horse to read. He starts with fiction and finds that the horse actually enjoys it. He then works his way through non-fiction, suspense and fantasy, all with favorable results. However, when he tries philosophy the horse rears and kicks and destroys the stable, proving once and for all...
Never put Descartes before the horse.
The other day I was telling my wife that I was thinking about finding god and becoming “born again.” She looked a little perplexed and said “no way” I looked at her and said “Yahweh.”
It's an easy way to find out about your family tree.
With saddle lights!
Three older ladies were discussing the travails of getting older. One said, “Sometimes I catch myself with a jar of mayonnaise in my hand in front of the refrigerator and can’t remember whether I need to put it away, or start making a sandwich.”
The second lady chimed in, “Yes, some times I find myself on the landing of the stairs and can’t remember whether I was on my way up or on my way down.”
The third one responded, ” Well, I’m glad I don’t have that problem; knock on wood,” as she rapped her knuckles on the table, then told them “That must be the door, I’ll get it!” Reply
I drove all the way to his house just to find out he's just a big fucking lyre.
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.
