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A recent study conducted by the WormHole Square Medical Center, has found that Alien Facehuggers have many beneficial medical and dental applications.DEA Investigates Intergalactic Drug Crimes
Last week, DEA officials, with the cooperation of NASA, recorded a major attempted drug deal that occurred on the surface of the planet Mars.
“Attempting to sell illicit drugs to an astronaut is definitely a crime,” said DEA official, Nancy Pace. “We’re just not sure we have jurisdiction to prosecute at this time.”
The following is the transcript of the recorded transmission between astronaut, Andrew Logan and an inhabitant of Mars that goes by the name, Keith.
Transmission: August 10th, 0129 Hours
Keith: Hey, man, how was your flight?
Logan: Huh… what the…?
Keith: Did you have a good flight? Five hundred million kilometers, seven months through the solar system. You must be thirsty. Can I offer you a cold brewed libation, which is comprised of fermented tartar sauce, acid rain, and the Big Bang Theory gone awry? Oh… you’re more of a Hippie Lettuce sort of gent. I can sense it in the urine and condensation inside your space suit.
Logan: What are you…?
Keith: First of all, my name is Keith, and I’m an Intergalactic Sensimilla, Bomb Chron, Pakololo Sales Rep.
Logan: Sensimilla, Bomb Chron, Pakololo sales rep?
Keith: All day, three- sixty five, son! Solar, lunar eclipse, meteor showers, it don’t matter. I’m out here slinging!
Logan: What are you talking about?
Keith: Check it out. I can sell you two pounds of my finest Milky Way pure Blackhole Chronic for a really good price. This stuff is thrice better than the Acapulco Gold or Purple Haze found on Earth, and it’s ten times better than that stinkweed that ET sells on Neptune. You feel me?
Logan: Are you trying to sell me… drugs?
Keith: No… maybe… Are you a cop?
Logan: No.
Keith: Then yes, I’m definately trying to sell you drugs?
Logan: I’m really not here for that. I’m here to study your planet. Where are the rest of you people?
Keith: Why, so you can rape, pillage, murder, colonize, and McDonald-lize us?! Never! I’m not telling you anything, Yankee!
Logan: No, I’m just here to take samples of-
Keith: Okay, I’ll tell you… if you buy a pound of my weed. I take straight cash or you can cash app me. Either way, no problem, cause ‘I’m easy like Sunday morning‘. Yo, I even take EBT cards!
Logan: I don’t want –
Keith: Okay, stop waterboarding me, man! I’ll tell you. Everybody’s at the Waffle Attic near Antares. On Tuesday’s the hash browns are free, and their hash browns are fire! (unintelligible) I’ll even let you sample my weed before you buy it. But, be careful. The last dude who sampled the Blackhole Chronic, side swiped his spaceship on a satellite and then crashed into an asteroid.
End of Transmission.
“Again, we are looking into every option available, pursuant jurisdictional authority, to bring this drug dealer to justice,” said Nancy Pace. “In light of this new information, we are also investigating whether or not Neil Armstrong falsified accident records concerning his Saturn V rocket, and a four-way stop sign on the dark side on the moon, during the Apollo 11 mission. Meanwhile, investigating the hash browns at the Waffle Attic near Antares will also be a top priority as well.”
Dr. Frankenstein Regrets Not Paying Electric Bill
Last week, Dr. Victor Frankenstein, mad scientist, corpse reanimator, and suspected Hair Club For Men client, had the electric power to his lab shut off, while he was in the middle of a very important experiment.
“I wanted to see what would happen if I stuck my tongue in the wall socket, while holding a copper tea kettle,” Dr. Frankenstein says. “Well, I tried it and… nothing. Then I realized the electric company had just cut off the power to my castle due to non-payment.
Dr. Frankenstein walks a few careful steps through his laboratory carrying a lantern, continues. “Oh, I was also working on trying to bring a dead guy back to life with remains I acquired from the graveyard and also from the IKEA outlet up the road. That experiment also failed miserably when the electric current to the cadaver was interrupted, and also because I haven’t upgraded to 5G technology yet.”
Although Dr. Frankenstein considers his last experiment a failure, he was, however, able to reanimate the cadaver to some degree.
“His left eye and left, ring finger show some intermittent life, but the rest of him is as dead as disco,” Dr. Frankenstein says. “After a week, he started smelling so bad, that the neighbors were outside my castle with torches and pitchforks demanding that I take him back to the graveyard. And also because I still hadn’t taken down my Christmas decorations from two years ago.”
Dr. Frankenstein weaves his way around to his creation, continues. “I didn’t have the heart to take him back. So, I’ve been injecting him with bleach, Febreze, and I lit a honeysuckle jasmine scented candle and stuck it up his ass to control the stench. It helped, and I even noticed his left, middle finger showed signs of life after the candle procedure.”
Dr. Frankenstein claims that he paid his electric bill months ago. He blames bureaucratic red tape, el Nino, and the Wall Street inverted yield curve, as the reason why the electric company has yet to restore power to his castle. For now, Dr. Frankenstein plans to continue his experiments with what ever means of electric power he can muster.
“I’m rubbing my socks across the carpet and calling my X-wife three times a day to produce the static I need to power the generator,” says Dr. Frankenstein. “I’ve also employed a hamster running on a wheel who’s jacked up on triple espresso and Red Bull to supply even more juice. Im not giving up on this guy,” Dr. Frankenstin insists. “He’s not showing much brain activity so far. Probably a Trump supporter-don’t know. And I still don’t know if sticking one’s tongue inside a wall socket, while holding a copper tea kettle would cause any type of chemical or physical reaction. At this point, my pre-experiment hypothesis is that inserting my penis in same, said socket, which is on my to-do list, would yield a similar inconclusive result.”
Man Collects 100,000 Acorns To Prove He Was A Squirrel In Past Life
Gordon Rustin, 43, has gathered over 100,000 acorns in his quest to certify that he was reincarnated from a squirrel.
“I’ve suspected that I might have been a squirrel in a former life ever since I began having non-sexual erections whenever I watched the The Adventures Of Rocky and Bullwinkle Show,” Gordon says. He cracks open an acorn, pops its in his mouth, continues. “Totally non-sexual, but that flying squirrel made my soul tingle, you understand? It was my previous life in squirrel-crush form. At first, I thought it might be Bullwinkle giving me the faux-boners, but I’ve only come to appreciate that moose’s unassuming dry wit and nothing more.”
Gordon cracks another acorn, pops it in his mouth, continues.
“It was Rocky telling me of our kindred spirit. I have all of the previous life-squirrel symptoms. I have a lot of nervous energy and I move in short, twitchy spurts, which makes my day job as a hostage negotiator a big challenge. When I’m walking, I often almost get hit by cars and become roadkill. And I’ve got an extremely bushy tail, which keeps my back warm in the winter, but produces an unsightly harvest of dingleberries in the summer.” Gordon eats another acorn, continues. “And I love all types acorns, be it from a black oak tree, red oak, or whatever. I also love anything that reminds me of acorns, like a penny, also known as… a coin.”
Many squirrels in the region have threatened legal action and other forms of intimidation, because of Gordon’s tremendous abundance of acorns. They see it as an unethical nut monopoly.
“It’s not fair that one guy should have so many acorns, while the rest of us have so few,” says Squirrel Union Local 237 rep, Chip Johnson. “I get that he’s trying to prove a point. Hey, sometimes I might feel like I coulda been a dragon in a past life, or whatever. But, you don’t see me flying around burning down castles, and whatnot, to make a point, do you?!”
For his part, Gordon has no plans to share his acorns, even after receiving multiple threatening letters and phone calls from the union.
“I’m nut worried about those squirrels. I keep my 100,000 plus acorns secured in a vault along with my other valuables like, jugs of free range acorn juice, cases of Squirrel Nut Zippers candy, and my autographed copy of early 2000’s R&B singer, Akon.”
Dung Beetle Claims He Was Once In Beatles Band
Joey Dingles, a sixty-four year old dung beetle, claims he was one of the founding members of the famed British band, The Beatles.
“Yeah, I was officially the fifth Beatle that nobody ever talks about,” Joey says from the dirt, as he pushes a round heap of cultivated poop. “However, Lennon kicked me out of the group after one week, when he found out I tried to give Yoko Ono some of my Norwegian wood.” Joey pushes his dung ball a few feet, continues. “I played the triangle in the band, which people think is not cool. Not true. I didn’t get the recognition I deserved because of the politics between John, Paul, George, and Ringo. And also because I never actually wrote or recorded any songs with them, or performed on stage, nor did I do any LSD.”
Joey rolls his dung ball a few feet, ruminates, frustrated, continues. “The triangle is a very complex instrument that takes years of study to master. You can’t just start clanging it without the foundational work, or you risk hearing loss, complaints from your neighbors, or a V-shaped hernia. First, I had to devote four years to what is referred to as, primal shape acclimation, which is akin to the blues. It consisted of me living naked in various structures, which had various shapes. I lived one year in the janitor’s closet in the basement of the round Epcot Center. I ate nothing but sawdust and the broken dreams of a janitor whose highlight of the day was scraping vomit off the Finding Nemo display.”
Joey pushes the dung ball a few more feet, continues. “Then I spent a year inside a rectangular, discount, no frills display coffin box. I ate nothing but plastic, display worms, fake tears and recycled formaldehyde. The third year was an elective year, so I lived inside an irregularly shaped igloo. I ate nothing but frozen fish sticks and the haunting memories of clubbed baby seals.”
Joey pauses, wipes his brow, continues pushing. “My last year was spent in a triangular Teepee. I ate nothing but diced buffalo meat and the distant, crushing sound of people losing their rent money in a casino.”
Joey pauses again, looks back at his giant triangle, continues pushing. “My graduate studies were done at The College Of Notre Dame. I studied under Quasimoto, who showed me how to get paid for ringing a bell, and how to also get workers comp for having a bad back, at the same time. I found his teaching style somewhat unorthodox. It was like the Montessori Method meets Hooked On Phonics. However, he taught me the most important thing , and that was how to listen and how to interpret the vibrato of an instrument, such as, a bell or triangle. He also taught me that vibrato is not a sexual device, nor is it the name of an X-Men character.”
The Beatles have long forgotten about Joey and what ever influence he may have had on their success. These days, Joey tours the land playing covers of Beatle songs on his triangle, on what he calls, the Dung Beetle Triangle Maniac Tour.
“You never know if and when the Beatles might get back together, Joey says. “You never know. If they do, I’ll be ready. Meanwhile, I just keep on keeping on.”
Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s Muscles Split With Star To Pursue Solo Career
Former WWE wrestler and action movie star, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s muscles have split with the actor to formally pursue his own solo career.
“I was done with all those mediocre action/comedy movies we were doing like, Hobbs & Shaw, Central Intelligence and The 12 Furious Jumanjis 12,” says The Rock’s muscles, who goes by the name Rock’s Muscles. He flexes a bit, continues. “I’d like to pursue more interesting artistic endeavours like, Competitive Shakespearean Tic Tac Toe, Couch Potato Motivational Speaking & Upholstery Repair. And if I’m lucky enough to ever get the chance, Interpretive Badminton.”
Dwayne Johnson admits the split will make his options for future movie roles limited, but he is determined to continue his acting career.
“Having zero muscle mass will make playing action roles very difficult,” says, Johnson, from the middle of a cemetery. He frowns, continues. “I can’t even hold up a gun, or throw a punch, or throw a weak, witty retort. The only role I’ve been offered lately is that of Olive Oil’s brother in a movie called, Popeye’s Chicken and Spinach Diaries.”
Speaking of food, Johnson has been on a rigorous diet and exercise regimen to help build back the set of muscles that he’s lost. But, it’s been difficult.
“I drink protein shakes that consist of egg whites, testicle juice extracted, straight-up from the bulls of Pamplona Spain, and remnants of crushed Arnold Schwarzenegger DVDs,” Johnson says. “My exercises consist of brisk walks through the cemetery wearing relatively heavy, weighted items, such as, wet sneakers, my own perspiration, and two small rubber bands on each wrist.” Johnson wipes his brow, continues. “I use the cemetery as motivation, because here, I have bigger muscles than everybody in the whole fucking place.” Again, Johnson wipes his brow, catches his breath, continues. “My weightlifting routine consists of bench pressing a curtain rod. 40 reps. Then I do 15 reps of curls with a stapler, loaded with 8 Swingline standard staples. Lastly, I demolish a fully furnished one bedroom origami apartment with my barehands.”
For his part, Rock’s Muscles says the split has been a liberating change.
“Finally, I got tired of all the injuries, both from wrestling and the demands of doing action movies. I’m talking about bicep strains, ankle sprains, and finally, severely dislocated dignity from doing the movie, Rampage.
Blind Snake Sees Strange Movie Scenes
Zeracody, a once blind snake, who can now see with the aid of a pair of dice, unfortunately, still suffers from bizarre side affects.
“The dice work great and make my eyesight possible, but on cloudy days I still see these strange pixilated black and white versions of classic old movies,” says Zeracody.
The dice use an experimental ocular filtering imager and pun technology, but the side affects have been a nagging problem that have, thus far, prevented wide use approval from the FDA.
“Nice sunny day, I was fine,” says Zeracody. “Clouds roll in all and all of a sudden, I’m seeing these weird scenes from the movie, JAWS, right? But, instead of a shark attacking people in the water, it’s a giant seahorse. And the seahorse is on the beach, terrorizing people by being a totally obnoxious asshole. He’s doing things like, playing his retro-boyband music too loud through static-filled sea shells. He’s wearing Sponge Bob thong swimming trunks, which are exposing an unsightly asymmetric bulge, and has seaweed sticking out from under the fabric. And even more terrifying, he’s built a humongous sandcastle that has a medieval facade, with Greek Ionic columns and a Victorian-age couch on the front porch. And the grass hasn’t been cut in weeks!”
The sun fills the sky and Zeracody’s vision returns. But, soon the clouds slide back through almost as fast, leaving him squinting, adjusting to a new, twisted set of images. The terror continues.
“Now I’m seeing shades of JAWS 3-D,” says, Zeracody. “Over near the dunes, it’s Donald Trump sun bathing, face down in the nude. Seagulls mistake him for a beached whale with lobster- colored skin. They peck at his flesh, but are repelled by the lies, gaslighting, corruption, and bullshit that seeps from his hollowed notches.” Zeracody squints, continues. “Captain Ahab comes ashore, hoping that he has finally found Moby Dick, his white whale. He has not. Ahab inspects Trump, makes an entry in his Captain’s log.” Did not find giant white sperm whale. Found giant orange inbred sperm whale instead.
Subway Performer Attacked By Velociraptor Disguised As Monopoly Man
Last night, Rashad Blake, 32, was attacked while performing in the subway, by a velociraptor that was, reportedly, wearing a Monopoly Man disguise.
“I was really enjoying the string-less mandolin banjo tamborine performance of Bennie And The Jets, in A flat minor, when that velociraptor attacked that guy,” says, Silvia Miles, who witnessed the attack.
Mr. Blake, who is well known for his virtuoso ability on the string-less mandolin banjo tamborine, has performed in the subway everyday for more than 30 years. In fact, he has only missed 2 days in all that time. Once on 9/11, and another day, when a local restaurant came out with all -you- can- eat unpopped popcorn, and Belgian Brussels waffle sprouts imported from Margaritaville.
“At first, I thought the attack was part of the performance,” says, Ms. Miles. “I even put an extra $5 in his can… until the velociraptor tore both his hands off and took his can full of yellow, pink, and blue cash and waffle sprouts discount coupons. After that, I felt the performance lacked spontaneity, focus, and depth.”
Mr. Blake reportedly continued to play, despite having lost both of his hands. He persevered even after rumours began to swirl about his performance being lip synced. Subway Law Enforcement Officers were quickly on the scene and attempted to arrest the velociraptor. Not for attacking Mr. Blake, but for jumping the turnstile and not paying for a subway ticket.
“Subway performers come a dime a dozen, but turnstile jumpers, like peddlers who sell watches made from cantaloupe rinds, are the greatest impediment to a fiscally sound and egalitarian society the world has ever faced,” says, Andy Donaldson, a subway peddler… who sells watches made out of cantaloupes rinds.
The velociraptor eluded capture and was last seen heading uptown on the M- Train towards Broadway. Authorities believe that this is the same velociraptor that has been on a spree of carnage, attacking a grandmother, an Amish farmer, and a pimp over the last several months. The velociraptor is wanted on a litany of charges including, assault, turnstile jumping, robbery, interrupting a song before the bridge and identity theft.
Man’s Stomach Growls Recite Outtakes Of Famous Speeches
Melvin Denton, 42, has very expressive stomach growls, and a WormHole Square linguist has recorded some outtakes of famous speeches emanating from his gut.
“I believe his stomach growls are a combination of several obscure languages, including Silbo Gomero, Pawnee, and South Baltimorean,” says, linguist, Oscar Pascal. Pascal adjusts his headset, continues. “Yesterday, I recorded and translated a Patrick Henry quote from 1775. In the quote, Henry says “Give me liberty or give me death.” The little known outtake from that quote goes on to say, “Actually… about that death thing… what I meant to say was not, “give me death“, but, like – give me a verbal warning first, or a jaywalking citation, or if push comes to shove, make me give Benjamin Franklin a lap dance… again… while he tries to get his kite up.”
Mr. Pascal jots down some notes, details, continues. “So, here’s a translation of an outtake from a Franklin D. Roosevelt speech from 1933. “So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is… fear itself.” And then the stomach growl translated outtake. “So, there’s fear to fear… and let us not forget these murder hornets, Covid-19, and the vision of Donald Trump, giving hair styling tips, while wearing a see- through wet suit.”
Pascal shudders at the thought, continues. He adjusts the attenuator on the recording equipment. Mr Denton’s belly growls, loud, then faint, but in stereo. “Sounds like Lincoln’s Gettysburg address coming through now,” Pascal says. “Four score and seven years ago…” Pascal squints, moves in for better sound. “Oh then Lincoln goes on about a game of darts in which he was cheated by a carpetbagger. And then on about how it’s really hard to get a good suit in his size and then something about how excited he is about “scoring tickets to the Fords theatre.”
The session then comes to an abrupt halt when, what was thought to be the next great stomach growling sounds of historic significance, actually turns out to be a burrito-fueled dispatch of flatus wind with equally historic impact in it’s own right, fills the room.
Hourglass Repair Shop Angers Customers With Two Hour Service
A company offering hourglass repair services in, as little as, 2 hours has some of its customers confused and others dissatisfied.
“It’s deceptive, misleading, and ruinous to my game nights,” says, Dexter Potts Jr. “My hourglass had a hole in it, after I accidentally shot it with a BB pellet, as I was trying to kill a zombie flying monkey, what was trying to eat the insulation behind my dishwasher,” Potts adds.
Mr. Potts took his damaged hourglass to UR GLASS HOURGLASS REPAIR, where he hoped to have the timing device fixed in time to be used during a self-hosted game night event. Unfortunately, this was not the case.
“Some games have a crucial time limit,” Mr. Potts says. “What’s the point of playing Strip Boggle, if players have all day to find the answers?! My game night was a disaster. I wasted $32.50 on chips and aphrodisiac infused Jello, and now my chances of becoming a successful swinger have been ruined as well!”
“First of all, Mr. Potts’ hourglass sustained extensive damage and his expectations of a speedy repair were unrealistic,” says, Defilbus Jenkins, owner of UR GLASS HOURGLASS REPAIR shop. “There was significant sand loss, which required a sand transfusion, which required a physical accounting and full replenishment of each and every grain of lost sand. 27,679 total grains of sand to be exact! Do you have any idea how long it takes to fill an hourglass, by hand, with 27,679 individual grains of sand?! Especially, taking into account my repetitive motion seizures, which caused me to count and recount four goddamn times!”
UR GLASS HOURGLASS REPAIR has been in business for many decades. One of Mr. Jenkins’ more famous clients includes, The Wicked Witch of the West, from the Land Of Oz. The Wicked Witch infamously threw her hourglass to the ground, smashing it in a cloud of sulfur and residual reefer bong dust. It was done in an attempt to prevent Dorothy and her companions from escaping the Witch’s castle.
“The Wicked Witch’s hourglass had to be gutted and restored from the frame up,” Jenkins says. New glass – the whole shebang. It had sustained severe potash displacement, smoke damage and as a result, several of her flying monkeys suffered PTSD and subsequently, went AWOL. Some have even been rumored to be living behind dishwashers to this very day.” Mr. Jenkins frowns, continues. “I was never paid for my repair work on the Wicked Witch’s hourglass. Sadly, she was liquidated by Dorothy with a bucket of water that very night. I still have a civil case pending with the Oz County Court system.”
A side note to this story:
Hourglass’ are not actually filled with sand, as the shape of actual sand is not ideal for good particle flow. Hourglass’ are actually filled with quartz, marble dust and leftover bread crumbs from Subway sandwiches.
Questions? Go to the 'About Comic Strip' page for answers to why this strip exists, or go there just to find the solutions to life's mysteries in general.