What I'd Say to the Martians by Jack Handey Read Free Book Online

pleasurable—until I realized it wasn’t a nectarine at all, but a HUMAN HEAD!!
     
     
    If you ever reach total enlightenment while you’re drinking a beer, I bet it makes beer shoot out your nose.
     
     
    The wise man can pick up a grain of sand and envision a whole universe. But the stupid man will just lay down on some seaweed and roll around until he’s completely draped in it. Then he’ll stand up and go, “Hey, I’m Vine Man.”
     
     
    There is probably one question that drives just about every vampire crazy: “Oh, do you know Dracula?”
     
     
    If you’re an ant, and you’re walking across the top of a cup of pudding, you probably have no idea that the only thing between you and disaster is the strength of that pudding skin.
     
     
    If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mister Brave Man, I guess I am a coward.
     
     
    Children need encouragement. So if a kid gets an answer right, tell him it was a lucky guess. That way, he develops a good, lucky feeling.
     
     
    You know what would make a good story? Something about a clown who makes people happy, but inside he’s real sad. Also, he has severe diarrhea.

The Draculas
     
    I knew the Draculas. They called themselves Count Dracula and the Bride of Dracula, but I just called them the Draculas. “Well, if it isn’t the Draculas,” I’d say.
    I met them when I moved in next door. You can get these great old country houses for next to nothing now in Romania. Some families have lived in these houses for hundreds of years, but now they can’t pay the taxes, so you can scoop up some great deals.
    The Draculas, I have to tell you, were weird. For one thing, all they seemed interested in was blood. I’m not kidding. Blood. That’s all they wanted to talk about. If you talked about something else, you could see their eyes sort of glaze over. Every once in a while, I’d drop the word “blood” randomly into the conversation, just to keep it going.
    Once, as a gag, I came running out of the kitchen with ketchup smeared on my hand. “I cut myself!” I yelled. I don’t think they thought it was very funny. But how was I to know that Mrs. Dracula would actually lick my hand? Or that she was allergic to ketchup? Man, her face really swelled up. Her teeth look funny anyway, but the swelling made her look extra funny.
    The Draculas were also weird about bats, the flying kind. We’d be out back, having martinis at sunset, and the bats would start flying around. I’d light up a Roman candle and fire it at the bats, you know, for fun. I never hit any (except for that one). But I had to stop, because the Draculas would get all upset.
    The problem with the Draculas was, they didn’t know how to relax. I’d try to get them to play croquet. But when you’d hand them the wooden stake, they’d act like it had cooties or something. Count Dracula would be gingerly tapping it into the ground, and I’d have to go over with my mallet and whack it hard two or three times. “Like that!” I’d say.
    Even though the Draculas dressed sexily, I don’t think they had much interest in sex. I myself have performed in a couple of adult films, and I offered to loan them copies, but they declined. You’d ask them what good adult films they’d seen lately, but they’d just sort of stammer and change the subject.
    I think part of the problem was they were just plain unhealthy. They looked pale and drawn all the time. Maybe it was from sleeping all day and being up all night. I’d go over to their place in the morning and pound and pound on their big wooden door. Sometimes I’d pound for hours. When I’d see the Draculas again they’d seem annoyed and ask if that was me pounding. Of course it was me! Who else would it be?
    So, yes, they were creepy. But I kind of liked them. That’s why it was so tragic what happened to them: they moved away.
    It all started with my big Fourth of