Davezilla: Clean Humor, Filthy Comments

1. My fingers are paralyzed and will never type again
2. My eyelids are magnetized to each other
3. I have not only read the same sentence eight times and still have no idea what it says, I remain quite convinced that it is changing meaning on me at will
4. The cat is vomiting in my shoes. Wait, that might be real…
5. My belt is cutting me in half
6. The glow-in-the-dark St. Isidore statuette my brother bought me is talking behind my back
7. Spud will make fun of me when I post this. Oh wait, that one’s real, too…
8. The branch scraping against the window is actually an escaped convict with a butcher knife
9. The infommercial host is sending me psychic messages
10. Everytime my cellphone beeps that it is looking for service, it is in fact, sending coordinates to the Mother Ship

Once upon a time, Davezilla went to the Auto Show. There he met Seven Snow Whites living in the Cadillac exhibit. They were sweet and let him take their picture. They let a lot of men take their picture, in fact. Their names were DopedUp, Grungy, Suc, Clappy, Flashful, Sleazy and Creepy (the one on the far right).

The Seven Snow Whites were having a lovely time posing for cameras and showing a bit too much skin, when who should stroll along, but a magical Dwarf who looked remarkably like the offspring of Ron Jeremy and a fig. The Dwarf wanted to marry all Seven Snow Whites and keep them in his cave. The Snow Whites wanted none of that shit and told him politely to keep his phone number to himself.

But this was a persistent and rather troublesome Dwarf. He asked them again, not only to come home with him to his magical cave, but to do all sorts of unspeakable things with him. Fortunately, the Security Guards in shining armor came to the rescue and escorted him back to his cave.

The End

Tonight I went to see if Blockbuster Video on the off-chance had a used DVD of the recently released Serenity. They were sold out, but I was treated to a show nonetheless.

As I was perusing the Pre-Viewed DVD aisle, I heard what sounded like a dinosaur throwing up. I turned the corner and saw the cause: a three year-old boy. You’ve seen the splash zones for the orcas at Sea World? This kid beat them by a solid meter. The following ensued:

Boy’s brother: “Eww! Ma-few frowed up!”
Father: “Oh, he sure did.”

The father—a dead ringer for David Crosby—picks up his boy under the armpits and carries him to the checkout counter.

Father: “My son is throwing up. Can we get a mop or towel, please?”
Employee: “Oh dear! Certainly!”
Boy: BLEAURGHHH!

All over the counter. All over the floor. All over the employee.

Employee: “Sir, your boy must have the flu. Why don’t you take him home?”
Father: “Yeah, I will in a minute. You guys got Serenity?”