There once was a sleepy bastard.
One day, the sleepy bastard decided to check out the internet.
The internet was full of porn, music, and other multitudes of wondrous things!
The sleepy bastard was so overjoyed!
Why sleep when you have the internet, thought the sleepy bastard.
The End.
Music was frolicking through a field one day when it found of field of happy little Genres. The Genres were singing together in awkward harmony. Each was happy to exist in the world, and each was more than pleased that it could sing without producing bleeding ears of the population.
There were Rock, Blues, Jazz, A Capella, Country, Disco, Punk, Alternative, Metal, Hip Hop, Folk, Pop, Techno, Bluegrass, Celtic, Classical, Gospel, Opera, Rap, Emo, Dance, and Indie Genres.
One day, Techno decided to invite its cousin Dubstep over to play.
The other Genres were not pleased.
Dubstep was a weird Genre that enjoyed “dropping the bass”.
The other Genres didn’t want the bass to be dropped.
So, the Genres devised an malevolent plan to get rid of Dubstep.
Too bad it didn’t work.
THE END.
Once upon a time there was a thing called ”The Internet”.
The Internet was a thing that held vast quantities of knowledge and interesting tidbits of randomized information.
This made The Internet a very powerful entity.
One day, a group of horny individuals discovered The Internet and decided to use its power to their advantage.
The Internet fought back, but the individuals were too strong.
Thus, The Internet had a child born of reluctant seduction: Porn.
THE END.
Step One:
Don’t Sleep.
THE END.
Once upon a time there was an adorable kitten.
One day, it got run over by a car.
And then it died.
THE END.
If you were to listen to me, my dear.
If you were to listen with that little ear.
Why, my dear, what would you hear?
Hear it: The Sound of My Heart.
The sound beats like a drum
Breaks down to a hum
And sounds only for a particular one…
The sound is bold
Like the stories we’ve told
Of memories that are not old.
Just kidding.
What you’re actually hearing is the dubstep music playing from the dorm-room across the way. Sorry to disappoint.
THE END.
“There isn’t much time!”
The frantic atmosphere within the atrium was becoming unbearable.
If the Lisa Frank Fan Club didn’t get out of there soon, all of their stickers would be covered in radioactive sludge.
One of the members of the fan club was deeply concerned.
“We can’t let the stickers perish,” exclaimed George, “Its our chance to do something meaningful with our lives. We must sacrifice the souls of the gingers to the Gods of this atrium for the greater benefit of mankind.”
The boys with red hair were confused.
“How will our souls help save the Lisa Frank stickers?” asked the ginger kid, Tom.
George shrugged and replied, “I don’t know. It probably won’t even help. But who gives a shit.”
And that’s the story of how gingers lost their souls.
THE END.
Brainwashing is the only way to get things done these days.
To brainwash successfully, one must first determine
what to brainwash the population with.
On exam weeks, I recommend brainwashing with a substance known as “Redbull”.
Redbull is something that doesn’t taste all that good and most likely pushes for the early death of whoever drinks it often enough.
But no one cares about that shit.
LET’S DRINK REDBULL.
THE END.
Once upon a time there was a thing called “Finals”.
Finals liked to make every college student at UNH very unhappy.
The students studied their hardest, but Finals still wanted to be a bitch.
So, the UNH students eventually got so upset that they exploded.
THE END.
Basketball was a game created by a man named James Naismith. Back then, the meaning of the word was quite literal: it involved a basket, and a ball. The concept was simple enough.
However, people fail to realize the the creator of the game may have been influenced by something far more sinister…
It was not James Naismith’s idea to create such a game. The thought came to him in a nightmare one summer’s eve. In the dream, Naismith was sipping tea and eating the souls of small children when suddenly a spherical object appeared before him. The object claimed itself to be a “basketball hoop”.
“Naismith,” said the basketball hoop, “I am from the future.”
Naismith was astonished at this object of grandeur before him. In bewilderment, he said the only thing that came to mind: “Wallabies cannot climb trees!”
The basketball hoop laughed in evil glory as it proceeded to tell Naismith of his fate.
“Naismith, you will create a game. You shall call this game basketball. The concept of this game “basketball” will be to shoot a spherical object into Basketball Hoops such as myself. Human-kind will see this to be an innocent concept. However, it is much more than a game.”
Naismith’s eyes were filled with horror.
“But what does it mean?” he asked in hysterics, “What will happen if they throw a ball into the basketball hoops?”
The basketball hoop merely chuckled.
“Foolish mortal,” it proclaimed. “With each ball passed through a hoop, Hitler will kick a kitten.”
THE END.
Cathy was sick and tired of Henry cheating on her. She knew she could never confront him. They shared a web and fighting about it would tear their house apart.
One day after a long, hard day of spinning and weaving she came home just looking to relax. She could hear Henry with Lola next door and knew he was at it again.
“This is the last straw” she thought, with an evil look in her eyes. “I know what I must do”. She gathered all they needed to have a nice meal. She trapped rare insects and some juicy flies and prepared everything quite nicely. When Henry got home he was surprised to find the nice meal waiting for him but did not question it.
They ate and talked for a few hours. After that Cathy suggested that they mate. Eagerly Henry agreed, forgetting that it was in Cathy’s family history to murder the men they reproduce with. After they mated Cathy sunk her teeth into Henry.
“Henry, you should know better than to cheat on a black widow spider!”
The End
“You go through every day with a stick up your ass,” exclaimed the angry farmer.
“We’re sick of your bullshit. All you do is stand around and watch birds all day. If you don’t start holding your own around here, you’re fired.”
The farmer walked away shouting obscenities while cursing the day he hired a scarecrow to tend to his fields.
The scarecrow stood in shame. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
But wait. Scarecrows aren’t alive. They can’t cry.
It was really just rain.
THE END.
Once I knew this guy. He was a Mormon, but he didn’t really get it.
He was a terrible Mormon.
So he stayed home most of the day.
Yep.
Gushing blood, screams of pain, twisting intestines: all these were things that turned the Kraken on.
The Kraken indulged himself in killing almost every day.
However, it all changed when he met Argh.
Argh the pirate was sailing to the Caribbean when he suddenly saw a large shape in the water.
“BLAAARGH ARGH ARGH?” said Argh. (Which in pirate talk means “what is this?”)
It was the Kraken!
The Kraken looked at Argh with his large gooey eyes.
He was immediately in love.
Argh was afraid.
He though the Kraken was going to kill him.
Argh decided he should kill the Kraken.
The Kraken was sad.
As Argh decided to go after the Kraken with a harpoon, the Kraken made a crucial choice.
The Kraken would have to make Argh love him.
Argh was swept up in the Kraken’s succulent grasp and pulled to the depths of the ocean.
But sadly, the Kraken forgot that Argh was human.
Argh drowned, and the Kraken mourned his death for two seconds and proceeded to eat his twitching corpse.
THE END
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