By Benjamin Epstein
What do you call a seagull that flies over the bay?
The detective stared at the words written on Matthew McConaughey’s forehead. What did they mean? Who had written them there? And most importantly, what was the capital of Argentina? All of these questions bounced around in his mind like Iron Man, but in an alternate dimension where he’s called Rubber Man, and he has a suit made out of rubber. The detective reached for a cigarette, but then suddenly, Matthew McConaughey woke up.
“What are you doing?” Matthew McConaughey asked.
“Watching you while you sleep.” the detective answered.
“Okay.” said Matthew McConaughey, and then went back to sleep.
The detective reached again for a cigarette, but he was stopped by a voice from behind him. “Do you think that it saddens him that when he and Woody Harrelson are on set together, somewhere in the world there's a hacky not being sacked?” Horror struck the detective as he turned around, only to find Zach Galifianakis.
“Who are you?” the detective (who from now on will be known as Tim and only Tim, except for the odd occasion where we call him Tom) asked.
“I'm Zach Galifinakis,.” Zach Galifinakis gasped.
“And I thought Benedict Cumberbatch had a weird actor name,” the detective said.
The studio audience laughed. It wasn’t very funny, but they were very tired.
Zach Galifinakis seemed annoyed. “Have you ever seen The Hangover?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve been hungover, I am an alcoholic.” the detective replied.
“No, have you seen The Hangover?”
Zach Galifinakis sighed, “Will, technically me and Ed Helms and some other guy, I think, but that’s not important. What’s important is there’s been a murder.”
“Who’s been murdered?”
“Me,” said Zach Galifinakis, and then died.
The rain pelted down in cold fury as the detective walked down the street. “Who would want to kill Zach Galifinakis?” The autopsy had uncovered that Zach had been shot between 3 am and 3:01 am with a bullet that most likely came from a gun.
“But what if someone just threw the bullet very hard?” he thought to himself. He needed to go to a bar and have a drink to satisfy his alcohol addiction. Bbut when he got to the bar, it had been turned into a mom- and- pop hardware store.”Curse you, anti-gentrification!” the detective yelled.
He screamed so hard that the police came and arrested him, but he was a detective, so it was okay.
I just ate a clock.
My house was quiet, and I was the only one in it. I was sitting in it, reading an old book. Then, suddenly, a knock came from the door.
“It’s probably a visitor. That’s it.”
I then went back to reading, because fame had gone to my head and turned me into an asshole.
It was at that moment when I heard more knocking. Once again, I didn’t open the door. Then I heard the sound of the door open. The door wasn’t locked because there was no lock, and I live in the middle of nowhere. I turned around, only to find Baltimore Ravens Quarterback Lamar Jackson, standing in my parlor and trailing blood everywhere.
“What’s up?” I said.
Quoth Baltimore Ravens quarterback Lamar Jackson:
Then Baltimore Ravens quarterback Lamar Jackson handed me a sandwich. “This is a magical sandwich,” said Baltimore Ravens quarterback Lamar Jackson. “Eat it and you shall magically appear in a forest in England in the late 1960s.” Naturally, I ate the sandwich.
I then found myself in a forest in England in the late 1960s. I walked through the forest till I saw, in the distance, a cottage. There seemed like nothing better to do other than walk towards it, so that’s what I did.
When I reached the cottage I found that the cottage was made of candy but unfortunately, it was all watermelon candy. I then knocked on the door. There was no reply. Into my brain came the realization that the door had no lock, so I opened the door and walked inside. I then found Mick Jagger, sitting in the middle of a parlor and reading a book
“What’s up?” I said.
“Why have you come here, Ravens Quarterback Lamar Jackson?” British rock star Mick Jagger said.
“I’m not Ravens Quarterback Lamar Jackson,” I said. “I’m British rock star Mick Jagger.”
“No, I’m British rock star Mick Jagger,” British rock star Mick Jagger protested.
“Wait a minute—what if we’re both British rock star Mick Jagger,” I proposed. “What if I’m you, but from the future.”
British rock star Mick Jagger seemed to take offense to that, “How dare you come into my house and say that you are me?!” Enraged, he grabbed a clock and shoved it down my throat, killing me. He laid me down on the floor, and then laid down next to me. As it turns out, time was on his side, but he was also beside himself.
Why did the chicken not cross the road?
Well, that's a pretty difficult question. If you think about it, you'll realize that chickens are naturally prone to cross roads. In fact, that's their entire purpose. So, if the chicken crossed the road that means that either:
A. it doesn’t exist, or
B. it was God.
“Wait what?” said the bartender, “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Shut up.” said the bartbeginner.
“No, you shut up.” said the bartender.
“Wow, great response.” said the bartbeginner.
The bartender gritted his teeth “You know what I’m tired of you beginning all those barts. I think that instead of ending a Bart I’m going to end you instead.”
The bartender then pulled out a very large gun. In response, the bartbeginner pulled out another large gun and said “You know what I’m tired of you ending all the barts that I begin. I think I’ll end you!”
They both shot their guns at each other. As a result of this the bartender ended the bartbeginner, and the bartbeginner ended the bartender
Now that they both ended each other there was nothing left in the universe except the chicken. And then the chicken laid an egg and that egg was the universe and we finally have an answer to the question of “Which came first the chicken or the egg?” It was your mom.
A weasel walks into a bar.
“Hey” the bartender says “We don’t serve your kind here.”
“Will, what do you serve here?” the weasel asks.
“Drinks,” the bartender says, “except on Tuesdays.”
“What do you serve on Tuesdays?” the weasel responds. “Soda.” the bartender says. The weasel then replies, “Well, what day is it today?”
“Wednesday.” the bartender lied- it was actually Friday.
“Look,” says the weasel. “Why can’t I just get a drink?”
“Because this is a nice establishment and we don’t allow weasels in here!” the bartender says angrily. “Okay I’ll go,” the weasel says, “but before I go there’s just one thing I want to say.” “What?”
The weasel looks at the bartender and then draws out his sword. “My name is Inigo Mustela, you killed my father, prepare to die.”
“No,” the bartender says. He then takes off his mask, revealing that he was a weasel all along! “I am your father.” the bartender says.
The weasel looks at the bartender in disbelief and then, “Pop?” goes the weasel.
Kevin Bacon and John Hamm walk into a bar.
“Velcome.” proclaims the bartender.
“Hello,” says Kevin Bacon “We would like two whiskey sours.”
“Ve do not serve viskey sours here.” The bartender coos.
“How about two tequilas?” John Hamm asks, while also giving himself an insulin shot.
“Ve do not serve tequila here either.” The bartender bubbles.
“Uhh… do you have rum and coke?” Kevin Bacon asks.
“No.” The bartender replies.
“Rum and tonic?” “No.”
“Ordinary rum?” “No.”
Both Kevin Bacon and John Hamm are flabbergasted. “Beer?” Kevin Bacon asks.
“Ve don’t serve beer.” The bartender responds.
“Well then, what do you serve here?!” John Hamm demands.
“Ve sell blood.” The bartender says. “Blood?” Kevin Bacon gawks.
“Yes, zis is a vampire bar.” The bartender reveals. “Oh.” both Kevin Bacon and John Hamm say. “Well, seeing as we’re not vampires, I guess we better go.” Kevin Bacon says.
“Now, hold on a minute,” John Hamm blurts. He turns to the bartender. “How much do you pay for blood?”
“Vat do you mean?” The bartender asks. “Like, if someone were to offer you some blood,” John Hamm explains, “About…say… all of the blood contained in one Kevin Bacon.”
“Ve have enough blood here,” The bartender says. “I vould only pay someone about 25 dollars for zat amount of blood.”
John Hamm shrugs. “That’s good enough for me.” He then proceeds to do a backlift and snaps Kevin Bacon's neck. Kevin Bacon's corpse makes a soft thud as John Hamm places it on the table.
“Well, here you go,” John Hamm says, “Some fresh blood, nice and juicy.” “Hmm.” The bartender utters, “I do not like it ven people snap other people's necks in my bar. That was very mean of you. I think I shall suck your blood instead.” The bartender then jumps, does a backflip, and bites into John Hamms neck. However, John Hamm is a diabetic. The high amount of sugar in John Hamms blood poisons the bartender. This causes the bartender to die. It really goes to show that you should never bite the Hamm that feeds you.
Q. What’s the best thing about Switzerland?
The beast can’t find you there.