[anxiously trying to put wrinkly dollar bills in a mitten vending machine as an avalanche approaches]
[lights 2019 calendar on fire]
Now you can’t hurt anyone any more.
[wind blows calendar onto my coat; I’m engulfed in flames]
STAYING HOME DAY 1: I should create a schedule to give my life structure.
DAY 9: I wonder what photosynthesis tastes like to trees.
[shakes fist at other fist]
*dipping a pine cone in my coffee* Gosh I just love fall
WIFE: Are you dipping your fries in mashed potatoes?
ME: The Amazon is on fire, Helen. The old rules are dead.
CHILD: I thought you liked Froot Loops.
TOUCAN SAM: *eating an egg salad sandwich he brought from home* Look, kid, it’s just a job.
Read my skeleton’s diary today. Anyone know what “loathsome flesh blanket” means?
Every Father’s Day I think about the time I jokingly asked my 4 year-old daughter if she was going to get me a “World’s Best Dad” mug. “Nope,” she said gravely. “I haven’t met all the dads in the world.”
ME: What’s the first rule of bite club?
DRACULA: Is it biting?
ME: That’s right, Dracula, it’s biting.
RATTLESNAKE: [quietly to himself] I was gonna say biting.