Welcome my fellow readers to a cliché so terrible that you will die of fright, have a brain embolism, projectile vomit poop from your mouth, and perhaps tinkle. Just a little tinkle. Like a wee bit of wee. The kind that leaves a little dot on your pants but you don’t change the pants. The dot will dry. Just sit really close to your keyboard. Your boss will probably just think you are working hard.
Boss: That Jenkins sure does work hard.
Lackey: He only seems to do it after he pees.
Boss: Hmmmm….. I think we have something here.
The next day during the meeting:
The employees are forced to drink water.
Boss: Drink it! Drink it!
Employee: I’ve had eight.
Boss: Drink it or you are fired.
Employee drinks while crying.
Yes, horror stories happen at work all the time ladies and gentleman. Are there really any gentleman anymore? Isn’t the new sexy some guy named Rex with fifteen tattoos and has killed at least three dozen people?
Rex mows down five-hundred henchman with a machine gun, fist fights the boss, and eventually impales a super ninja cyborg with a meat hook. There is a hot babe with revealing torn clothing waiting for him.
Babe: That’s all hot. Let’s fuck.
She tries to run to him across a blood splatter and he halts her. He takes off his coat and places it on the blood.
Rex: Milady, you shall sully your feet if you advance any further. Prechance, might I entice you to a stroll around the garden?
Babe: You want to smoke some weed?
Rex: Dear heavens no! Sound body and mind. Daily calisthenics! But soft! From what light through yonder window breaks-
Babe: Are you on drugs? I don’t want no man on drugs!
Rex: Wait! Perhaps I may sing praises of your beauty!
Babe: I am out of here.
Rex begins to prep his vocal chords.
A good crypt keeper, grave digger, vampire, night watchman, creepy butler, guy in front of a fireplace, BLAM!
We have fired the host. Literally. Because bad puns about death are in every pulp Halloween special! Enjoy the last Freakin’ Ghost Story.
Ghost: Finally! These aren’t really ghost stories. I am appalled and angry. I plan to write an angry letter about this injustice to all ghost kind. Unfortunately, I don’t have any corporeal hands so it’s hard to write the letter. But I have used automatic writing before. Though only to mess with the living. I give them dire predictions, like the day the governor will be shot and then laugh my ass off when nothing happens. One time, I convinced this girl that in order to lay my spirit to rest, she needed to jump in a well. It was freakin’ funny! The living are completely clueless. You just need to crawl funny, turn your head, and maybe vomit some blood for effect and they shit themselves. Try this: Go to a medium and tell their client that the father they are trying to contact is disappointed with them. It’s a riot. Ghosts get so much crap in movies. Like we have nothing to do but kill people. Do you think we’d want to add another undead resident to our house? I like living alone! Imagine if I had to share the place with another ghost! They’d eat the crap that I buy from the fridge. I hate that. After a day of spooking the living, I want to just enjoy a sandwich but all the bread is gone. Don’t get me started on the beer.
We hope these make you pee. Happy Halloween!