Nonsense Humor

• Two years old, my cat Puffy tried to run the car off the road after he offered to take me to the toy store. My parents didn’t believe me when we got home.

• Two and a half years old, Puffy took money out from loan sharks in my name. I cleared that one up, but not before doing some things I’m not proud of.

• Four years old, our new cat Bella tried to exploit a nut allergy I didn’t have. The pesto was delicious.

• Seven years old, the neighbor cat took a few pot shots at me with a .22, and got me in the leg. He got a shoe box in the woods.

• 12 years old, our twin cats, Sidney and Spencer, poured a bag of nails down the stairs I use every morning. That same day a screwdriver and an air filter go missing; are never recovered.

• 15 years old, A tiger found his way into my room and masturbated while I slept. Not an attempt at murder, but worth mentioning.

• 16 years old, a strange cat named Tom gives me some weed laced with PCP, turned out not to be a cat at all.

• 18 years old, ganged up on by a large pack of feral cats. Managed to escape, albeit naked.

• 20 years old, a group of cats in a trench coat made to look like a human try to lead me into an alley way. Unsuccessful, but I still see it out of the corner of my eye every now and then.

• 20 years old again, I could swear I saw the trench coat cats outside of my window. I live on the tenth floor.

• 21 years old, I see what I think to be trench coat cats getting into a cab near me. Write it off as a trick of the imagination

• Two months ago, slip on a dead mouse, catch a shadow out of the corner of my eye.

• One week ago, thoughts consumed by trench coat cat. Can’t leave my apartment. The smell of catnip slowly seeps into my room. I hear a faint, distant meowing. It’s long and drawn out. I call the cops but the phone line was cut. My cell phone is dead. The door knob rattles. I brace myself for the end.

{Editor’s Note: The writer of the above list was found dead on the floor of his apartment approximately two days after his death. He was covered in warm milk, and appears to have had the breath sucked out of him. There are currently no suspects.}

Original Article

Oh hey David, funny to see you here, at my door, to the house where I live. Of course I know I invited you here.
Here’s the thing: I thought about it, and I really don’t want to lend you my House: Season 2 DVD box set. I mean, first off, I lent you my coffee maker almost four days ago and you still haven’t returned it. What do you mean ‘That’s why you invited me over here’? Oh…well thank you for giving that back so promptly, even if I had to remind you. In no way is it my fault that you couldn’t bother hiring a catering company for your mother’s funeral. Oh, don’t start crying. I understand that you’re still in mourning, but your tears are going to ruin my coffee maker. It’s raining outside? I don’t see how that changes whether you’re crying on my coffee maker, but I suppose you’re right, I ought to invite you in. That would be the neighborly thing to do. Here, dry yourself off with this sheet of bubble wrap. Since you gave back my coffee appliance, you should know that the real reason I’d rather not lend you my House: Season 2 box set is for emotional reasons. That season aired at a very rough time in my life, while I was still working at the sandpaper factory. The struggles that doctors House, Chase, Cutty, Foreman, Wilson, and Cameron overcame over those nine short weeks really impacted me. I understand that you’re going through some trauma yourself right now, with the death of your ugly mother and your fiancé leaving you on your wedding day for a transvestite. But I just don’t think I’m ready to part, physically, with this object of my affection.
You think we should watch the whole season together? That’s a grand idea. It sounds like almost as much fun as if I just sat down and watched it by myself. I’ll grab the DVDs from my bedroom. In the meantime, why don’t you brew us a cup of coffee? Try not to get any of that rainwater on my carpet. I should also warn you that I don’t have any coffee grounds in my pantry because I haven’t gone grocery shopping in three months. As far as food goes, the only thing left to eat is bubble wrap. I really hope you didn’t throw out that wet bubble wrap from before. No matter. If you want coffee, you should run across the street to your place and get some. I’ll leave the door locked, so make sure to knock eight times. You’re right, the coffee really isn’t necessary. Mmm, soak in that new DVD smell. So I never unwrapped them? That doesn’t mean I can’t have a sentimental attachment. So maybe an ex-girlfriend of mine bought them for me and I didn’t want to watch them out of spite. And maybe it’s possible that I never watched the show House in the first place—ever—and I thought this piece of shit Christmas gift was the perfect example of how she never knew the real me. Does that really change anything now? Does it?
I’m glad you made yourself comfortable, sitting on the shelf of the armoire. The lack of furniture is something most people would apologize for, but I stopped caring about the squalor of my life a long time ago. Let me just take the cellophane off of these House DVDs. I’m also going to eat that cellophane, so if you could do me the courtesy of looking away, I would appreciate it. Since we’re just diving right into this, do you think you could catch me up on what happened in season 1?

Thanks, you’re a true neighbor.

Original Article

After dropping the football program in 2009 and being without a football team—or greasy football fans—for the last two years, Hofstra is reintroducing football to their sports repertoire. ”It’s been a long time coming”, says Hofstra President Stuart Rabinowitz. “After two years of no football, the standard college campus ratio of homicidal football fans to sane people was getting dangerously low, especially for a university of this standing. I mean, even fucking Liberty University has a football team, and you know how they feel about minorities, physical contact, and fun.”

After citing nauseatingly low levels of face paint, foam fingers, synchronized screaming, shirtless men, and arson on campus, the Long Island university decided that this was “no way” for a college campus in America to be run, and opted to swiftly and immediately reinstitute its football team, along with the shitty football fans that come along with it.   “No American university campus is complete without a nice old fashioned, blood-and-tear strewn sports riot, and studies have shown time and time again that football is the sport that brings it, and brings it hard.” After starting up again, recruitment for the team was a breeze, officials reported. “We just went around campus, signing up the guys we deemed the most likely to get a neck tattoo and/or be indicted on charges of operating a dog fighting ring in the near future.” Since the pigskin has started flying again, the campus has reported increased amounts of nacho consumption and chest hair exposure.

Original Article

The world wept in union last Monday when American-treasure John Travolta passed away.  Even more shocking than the news of Travolta’s death was that his will stipulated his head be frozen and fired into space before the next full moon.

According to a statement released by his lawyer, Travolta’s will clearly dictates that his head be removed using a compact meat and bone saw with a minimum blade speed of 15 feet per second and that it should be cryogenically frozen at a temperature no more than zero degrees kelvin.  It goes on to say that the frozen head should be strapped to a rocket and fired into the sun.

“Those closest to John would remember that he was terribly afraid of the waning gibbous moon and therefore it would only make sense to launch the rocket by the time the next full moon rolls around,” says Travolta’s wife Kelly Preston.  “It’s very important to me that we honor John’s last requests.”

Travolta has been secretly funding the construction of his head sized rocket for years, spending most of his earnings from “Old Dogs” on the propulsion system.  “Hairspray paid for the guidance system,” added Preston.

In order to give Mr. Travolta a proper send off, the cast of the movie Grease is planning a reunion at the launch of Travolta’s head.

“It’ll be great to see everyone again, we all haven’t been in a room together since we wrapped filming,” says an enthusiastic Olivia Newton John.  “We really want to do something special for the fans.”

Plans for the reunion include the cast reenacting scenes from the movie while a figure dressed in all black stands in as Danny Zuko and Travolta’s original dialogue is played over the P.A.

As the final lines of “We Go Together” are sung, the rocket will reportedly be launched from Travolta’s private airfield in Ocala, Florida.

Original Article