The Amazing Scrutineer Loons: The Mystery of the Dubious Dinner, Part 2


The Amazing Scrutineer Loons were nothing if not methodical. Scrutinous, even. They pecked the dead trout three whole times before agreeing it was actually a deflated soccer ball: rotting, but still very much edible, according to loon standards. Then again, who could eat with punctured sporting goods floating around? Was it murder? Or perhaps suicide? Did the ball witness something it was never meant to see? And why didn’t anyone have crackers anymore? Come on! These questions and many more will soon be answered in… The Amazing Scrutineer Loons: The Mystery of the Dubious Dinner, Part 3!

© 2014 Tony Vicory.

The Amazing Scrutineer Loons: The Mystery of the Dubious Dinner, Part 1


The Amazing Scrutineer Loons were the greatest avian detective agency ever assembled, having solved such tantalizing conundrums as “Who crapped in the lake?” and “Where did that bag of potato chips come from?” Their latest case, however, would be their most challenging to date. When did that trout go belly up? How did it die? More importantly, would it still be tasty? If so, who gets to eat it? And does anyone have crackers? These questions and many more will soon be answered in… The Amazing Scrutineer Loons: The Mystery of the Dubious Dinner, Part 2!

© 2014 Tony Vicory.

The Unlikely Brew

Conscious Beer

It was an ordinary day, just like any other, when a pint of beer inexplicably gained consciousness. However, without eyes or ears or any sense organs whatsoever, it couldn’t fully explore the possibilities of its own existence, and understandably the beer became quite depressed. If only there were something it could have quaffed to drown its sorrows…

© 2014 Tony Vicory.

Under Advisement


Dear Advice Columnist,
I’m in love with an author, but I’m beginning to suspect she’s just a brand ghostwritten by an anonymous collective. Tell me: are you just a brand ghostwritten by an anonymous collective? — CONFUSED BUT STILL ODDLY AROUSED

Dear Confused,
We are not a brand ghostwritten by an anonymous collective, but we are flattered. Thanks for asking. — US

© 2014 Tony Vicory.

A New Perspective

A New Perspective

A man walked into a bar… but forget about him. Let’s talk about Audrey. After a demoralizing week at work, all she wanted — nay, deserved — was a night of drunken commiseration with her best friend, Marissa, but did she get it? No! Of all the happy hours, she had to pick the one swarming with bar joke characters. “This is horrible!” she shouted. “I can barely hear you with all of these punchlines walking around!” “Could be worse!” Marissa shouted back. “We could be punchlines ourselves!” “Well, that’s true!” Audrey replied, oddly encouraged. Marissa was right: she wasn’t a punchline; she was just a woman with a terrible, terrible job. Audrey smiled. Next week will be much better, she thought. I know it. She then took a sip of her half-priced beer and watched as a priest, a rabbi and Richard Dawkins slipped in through the side entrance.

© 2014 Tony Vicory.

Shopping for Superheroes: A Word Problem

Comic Book Shop

Tom went to the comic book store. He had $10 in his pocket and was hoping to pick up the latest issues of Animal Man, Justice League and Swamp Thing. Each cost $2.99. If sales tax was 6% in Tom’s state, how many comics did he buy?

Answer: Zero. Tom never got the opportunity to buy anything, because the employees were too busy ranking the fictional characters they would sleep with (on a scale between “Hell Yeah” and “Well, Sure, I’d Probably Still Go for It”) to bother assisting him. This was not an isolated incident. In fact, this was happening at every comic book store ever. Yay, subscriptions.

© 2014 Tony Vicory.

The Accursed Rental

Monster Movie Night

It was a dark and stormy movie night. Dracula, Frankenstein’s Monster, the Mummy and the Wolfman had gathered in an abandoned Transylvanian theater to watch Richard Linklater’s classic romance, Before Sunrise. Unfortunately, their manservant Igor had picked up the sequel, Before Sunset, by mistake, and within seconds, Dracula violently combusted. “Well, that was an overreaction,” the Mummy grumbled. “I actually like Sunset better,” the Wolfman added. Frankenstein’s Monster, however, started to sob and whined: “Gross, he got ashes in my popcorn!” Igor hunched his already hunched back. “Sorry, masters,” he said wearily. “Shall I fetch the broom?”

© 2014 Tony Vicory.