Man. I thought I’d be an asshole and come here and write “and then Sam died”. But looks like you guys took it to a whole new level.
Does this mean will never know what happened to the Bert and Ernie zombies?
Darn!
Meanwhile, back at the Ranch, the little boy whose name is unimportant, learned for the first time how to masturbate ‘like a motherfuck’.
me, three.
I thought for sure Dopers could be creative and silly without resorting to profane imagery
…and I tried so hard, too.
The small crowd around the ice cream truck (who, like most good people, had never heard of William Strunk, much less believed a word he said) were amazed to see no less a man than legendary Broadway producer David Merrick walk up to join them.
“I am not an animal!” he exclaimed.
“Nor a number!”
Nor a mineral, and I’m also drunk out of my mind! Said the whatever.
The crowd, a little ashamed at this display, chipped in (expect for Ernie, him being the jerk that he is), and bought Mr. Merrick a wild berry popsicle, which he promptly ate in one big bite.
Ernie, being the jealous type, mumbled under his breath, “And here I thought the ‘Abominable Snowman’ was dead…or melted.”
Meanwhile, the little boy looked up to see former Vice President Al Gore casting a very large shadow over him.
“Fudgesicles,” proclaimed the Former Vice President, interact with Global Warming to produce the disasterous consequences we have just seen; you must always end a sentence with a semicolon; er, you must never order a fudgesicle again!"
“Have a Bomb Pop instead,” he recommended.
Bomps pops it was, a round for everyone…and there was much gleeful licking.
How many licks, gleeful or otherwise, does it take to get to the center of a bomp pop?
“All of them”, he concluded in thought, not specifiying which ‘he’ the thought came out of.
Meanwhile, back at the icecream truck, Bert and Ernie attacked Sam’s ankles, mumbling, “Brains…brains…”
Sam looking at the ankle biters;
“Hell, why do I always get myself into predicaments like this??.. I know damn well I’m allergic to Bomb Pops…-shit!”
“Hey, get off my socks!” screamed Sam at the persistent dimuitive Muppet Zombies as they continued unraveling his socks to get at the suculent flesh beneath.