Every time I go down the village there’s one less child and one more goose and I think we really need to make more ‘Do Not Drink’ warning signs for the cursed well.
Me: “Take me to your leader!”
60,000 bees: *Just stuffing me awkwardly into the hive*
Getting my second jab today. They’re making me sign a form confirming I’ve been repeatedly told the vaccine won’t allow me to survive being fired from a trebuchet into the tree where the squirrels took my mars bar.
I knew a guy used to trophy hunt corn. Had a necklace of ears.
*Remembering the time I took a picture of myself every day for a year without removing the lens cap*
Me: “Listen, whatever they’ve offered you to kill me, I’ll double it.”
Them: “All they offered was the experience and exposure.”
Me: “…oh no. The influencer mafia.”
Parish Council to all moorside residents –
Once again: the nightly screams beyond the high cottages are foxes. They aren’t the result of werewolf activity. Stop spreading this silly idea. This is 2020. You should all know werewolves prefer to strike before their prey screams.
I see velociraptor is trending in the United Kingdom.
I knew I should have paid for a stronger lock on that paddock.
I’ve failed the “I am not a robot” captchas so often the robots have started including me in their World Domination chat rooms and bake sales.
Did the ancestry search. Bit concerned my family tree only goes back as far as the night most of Dunwich washed away, and an event recorded only as “The Summoning.”
Little Mermaid remake: Ariel falls in love after seeing the tender way Prince Eric holds a fish in his Tinder profile.
Following a series of poor personal decisions I now owe the ferret mafia six grand and my only way out is to be the driver for a meat heist planned by a squirrel dragged back in for one last job, assisted by a weasel nobody trusts. Not even the stoat bagman.
Me: I like to look on the bright side. It’s a beautiful sunny day, I was getting tired of that room, I always enjoy seeing professionals at work and I finally tried a cigarette only to confirm my belief I wouldn’t care for them. Nice to know! Well, please continue.
Firing Squad:
“I knew the dame was trouble when she waltzed into my offfice with a green diamond floating over her head.”
A doorbell rings. I immediately look up, shocked, as I don’t have one installed. It chimes again. I shiver. The sound vibrates in my soul. I lay aside my book, the text forgotten, and go inexorably to answer the summons. There’s a man there. He speaks,
“Hello. I sell doorbells.”