Tuesday, March 24, 2009




A man wants to rob a convenience store. He charges in, armed with a knife. He orders the clerk to leave and wait outside. The clerk runs out of the store and calls the police. The police surround the store. They see through the window that the man is eating a chicken.


A man wants to rob his local convenience store. He walks in and chats with the clerk. They both know each other. At a certain point, the man pulls on a black balaclava and holds a gun to the clerk’s face. This is a robbery, the man says. I already knew that, the other replies.


A convenience store is unhappy. I could be so much more convenient, it thinks. Late at night it travels to the home of a man who has a balaclava, a gun, and a criminal record. This is a stick-up, the convenience store shouts into the mail slot. I want your insides.


A robber rushes up to the owner of a convenience store just as he’s locking up for the night. “Look,” he says and shows the owner the handle of a knife that he’s put up his sleeve. “One moment, please,” the owner says and goes inside to get something. “Look,” the owner says, pointing to the toes of a baby sticking out of his own sleeve.

No comments: