A brick could be modified to be a cell phone, for construction workers who miss the easy to find cell phone size of the 1980s.

I write weird stories. I don’t know why I like weirdness so much. Myself, I’m a very realistic person. I don’t trust anything New Age — or reincarnation, dreams, Tarot, horoscopes. I don’t trust anything...

Duck!” Not a Feathery Quack Maker, but Get down!

A brick could be used to grow your annual income by a factor of four. What, you don’t believe me? Are you calling me a liar?

It’s weird to have people just calling me Prince Charming in the street. It’s a lot of pressure to walk around sometimes.

I, myself, love complications and mystery which I didn’t notice that I had become one.

My smile wavers as I revert to my natural state of being: nervous and weird.

Nobody is so weird others can’t identify with them.

I’ve had some weird experiences.

A blanket cold be used as truth. At least it’s so warm, it must be used that way.

A brick could be used to start your car, if your car’s keys are cube-shaped and huge. You know what else cube-shaped and huge? That’s right—my penis sheath.

A blanket could be used to foil slave traders. But so could tinfoil and leftover meatloaf. Geez, the whole Civil War could have been avoided if only Lincoln had known that little trick.

I make love like a brick could be used as toilet paper. Sure, it’s rough, but I thought you liked that shit.

My routine is comforting, like a comforter. But a blanket could easily be used to replace my routine, because a comforter is a blanket.

A blanket could be used to draw a map on—a treasure map, and not something Google has knowledge of. Want to know what’s under the X? My erection.

Love is like building a wall with two bricks and a ton of wind. Obviously you and your lover are bricks.

Bricks could be used to pad the pockets of crooked politicians. Why stuff their greedy pockets with cash, when we could load them up with bricks and find out how good of swimmers they are?

If you bring the blanket, I’ll bring the warmth.

A brick could be used to save humanity from mortality. Or at least save us from mortar.

A blanket could be used to reveal hidden mysteries. Quick, get naked and get under, and I will illuminate the night.

I shit bricks, because I’m a constructive pooper.

Blankets could be used to stop exponential population growth. If we kept the people warm, maybe they wouldn’t try to heat themselves up through continual fornication.

If you think of evil things, you are likely to do evil things and that will never pay you a pesewa. Think of good things and do good always!

Bring your son to work night” at NAMBLA’s manufacturing plant. What does NAMBLA make? NAMBLA makes me sick.

A brick could be put on the end of a scale, to determine if the other end of the scale holds a lie or the truth. (Hint: The truth is much heavier than a brick.)

A blanket could be used to trick a bull into charging at you. After you trick the bull, trick a bear next, and then by that time all the investors will be playing your game,...

Normal is made up of two friends—Norm and Al. That’s twice the number of friends that I have, probably because I’m weirder than normal.

A brick could be used to unite two long-lost brothers. They’ve been apart for six inches, and that’s entirely too long, and I think it’d be good to bring them back together.

A brick could be used to suppress the price of gold. But not for very long, because once the people realize the unrealized potential in undercutting the central bankers, gold will rise and fiat currency...

A brick and blanket could be used to turn my words around like backwards high heels on my tongue .

You guys are weird,” Tori said.Simon sat on the crate beside me. “That’s right. We are totally weird and completely uncool. Your popularity is plummeting just by being near us.

Belly button rape!

Have I seen any plays that I’ve been in? Uh, you know, might be a little weird.

There really is no sense in pretending to be normal. Just be you because the moment you do, weirder things happen. Crazy comes back into fashion and every woman has to go out and find...

To confront those fears, in a controlled environment, where there’s 300 people around you going through the same thing, it’s this weird sort of yin and yang.

With these words there came the rending scream of a shattered stirk and an angry troubling of the branches as the poor madman percolated through the sieve of a sharp yew, a wailing black meteor...

A blanket could be used to feed the homeless. I mean warm the coldless. I mean coldsome. I wouldn’t know, because I’m homefull.

A blanket could be used for selfish reasons. I would list those reasons, but they’re mine—all of them. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.

A brick could be used to sell pepper to people in the salt mines. So while you’re busy selling pepper to the salty and sweaty workers, I’ll be selling them bottled water.

A brick is slow, when it’s lying on the floor. But fast when just thrown.

A blanket could be used to put the war in warm. Just paint the blanket like an American flag, and then try to convince the world that they are cold and need us to stop...

A brick could be used as a device to deliver bad news. Sometimes it’s better to be blunt.

A blanket can be a meditation device. If the blanket is white, and you stare at it, you can blank out your mind and find peace within yourself.

A brick could be used as a deodorant deterrent. Just ask any stinky Congressman.

A brick could be used to make the world safer for our children. Well, not our children, as I don’t actually have any kids—but certainly your children. Skeptical? A brick could better protect your children...

I use blankets like armor for cold.

A brick could be used measure the volume of love in any given bathtub. But for the test to be accurate, I’m going to need you to disrobe and step down here. Don’t worry, I’m...

The wall of silence that exists between us is as long as the Great Wall of China. And though it’s the same length, our wall is about two bricks quieter.

Weetzie could not even cry and make Kleenex roses. She remembered the day her father, Charlie, had driven away in the smashed yellow T-bird, leaving her mother Brandy-Lynn clutching her flowered robe with one hand...

I’m 30-years-old, and I still can’t get out from under my father’s shadow. He’s really tall, so maybe I’ll just ask him to move over a few feet.