Earlier this year I put up a show called Tales of Adventure. (Don't worry, I'm just explaining the context. It ended in May so you don't have to go anymore.) Moderately skilled improvisers read short stories based on a different theme each week. The first week's theme was horror, so in honor of Halloween and self-promotion, I am reposting this DennisOToole.com classic: the extremely scary playbill that I handed out to the audience that week.
TALES OF ADVENTURE!
VOLUME 1, ISSUE 1:
For your diversion, we have compiled some of the most popular jokes about ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and other deadly monsters that have been passed down through the generations. Perhaps these laughs will take the sting out of what you hear tonight and the chuckles herein will help you to sleep. Perhaps…
GHOULISH JOKES AND
What do you get when you cross a swamp thing and an ogre?
What time is it when a ghost-elephant sits on your fence?
Midnight; or, perhaps: The Bewitching Hour.
101 devils walk into a bar. Bartender pours them all shots of Patrón and says, “That will be $404 dollars.” Lead devil says, “Put that on my bill,” with this big smirk on his face. Like he’s all satisfied with himself about how funny he is. The bartender realizes that this is a pun and says to his friend, “Oh, fuck! They’re also ducks.”
How many ghosts does it take to screw a light bulb?
Zero. Ghosts are insubstantial, and therefore cannot grip anything.
Relax. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.
101 devils walk into a bar. The special that night is buckets of Miller Light for five bucks, so they get 20 buckets of five. Works out perfectly since they can’t stay long and one guy is driving. They get into this big argument with each other over whether the Vortex at the top of Miller Light bottles is bullshit, or complete bullshit. After about twenty minutes of this they leave to torment and possess the living.
A priest, a rabbi, and a troll are in a rowboat. The priest says, “I will say a prayer to Jesus that we make it safely across the river.”
The rabbi says, “I will recite a psalm of thanksgiving once we arrive.”
The troll says, “Hey, I think it’s pretty cool the three of us can hang out even though we’re all so different, you know?”
101 devils walk into a bar. Bartender says, “Get the hell out of here!” He’s just kidding. It’s this ongoing bit they have
Wah wah wah, what you crying for, baby? Oh, and I am a ghost. Shit is about to get real, son.
What’s the difference between a goblin and a hobgoblin?
There’s skid marks in front of the hobgoblin. Wait—I screwed this up. Both are dead and in the street.
101 devils walk into a bar. It’s called John Barleycorn. After not even ten minutes, this one devil is like, “Fellas, can we please get out of here? This is worse than where we live.”
How many skeletons does it take to screw a light bulb?
Depends on which ethnicity they were when they were alive.
101 jack o’lanterns walk into a bar. The special that night is for pumpkin ale, so the jack o’lanterns freak out and trash the place.
A mummy, a vampire, and Frankenstein buy a condo together and as a result everyone thinks they are gay. The mummy is gay, but the other two are not. The vampire doesn’t know, but Frankenstein does—and he won’t tell the vampire because he (the vampire) is super conservative about social issues, and Frankenstein’s afraid he’ll make a big stink about it. Aside from a little homophobia and the occasional “lazy poor people” rant, the vampire is actually a great guy. Like, really funny. So Frankenstein’s take is: “Let’s not rock the boat.”
Time passes. They meet their neighbors on either side, plus most of the others in the building at the condo association barbecue. Weeks go by and all goes well.
Until one day the vampire comes home and says to the other two: “Dudes, you are not gonna believe this. So I’m downstairs checking mail when I see Veronica from 3B. She asks if I’m dating anyone. I say, ‘No,’ and she’s like, ‘Are you looking?’ and I’m like, ‘Yeah, kinda.’ So she’s like, ‘Great! I want you to meet my friend. You two would be a perfect match! Blah blah blah blah blah.’ She pulls out her iPhone and shows me a picture of a dude! I guess she thinks we’re a bunch of fags!”
At first there’s only silence. The vampire says, “What?”
The mummy is standing by the food processor, and after a moment or two he turns the thing on high and lets it roar—for, like, a while. The mummy just stares at the machine as it chops and chops at a bunch of onions until they form a sickly white pulp. Frankenstein closes his eyes and shakes his head. The vampire looks back and forth between the two with a helpless “What did I do?” look on his face.
Finally the mummy turns off the machine and walks out of the room. Frankenstein turns to the vampire and says, “Listen… Marc’s gay. So you probably shouldn’t use language like that around here, OK?”
The vampire says, “I had no idea. I’m… I’m sorry.”
Frankenstein goes, “Don’t tell me.” Then he points to the spiral staircase leading to the mummy’s room. “Tell him.”
Eventually, things work out. The vampire apologizes, but then the mummy apologizes too, since the two had known each other for centuries, with the mummy keeping this big secret under wraps (pun intended) the whole time. “I chose not to tell you because I assumed you couldn’t handle it,” the mummy says. “And that was not fair of me.”
As the years go by, the mummy and Frankenstein open the vampire’s mind up on all sorts of social issues, from women’s rights to urban food deserts. The vampire meets the mummy’s boyfriend, an actuary named Dan, and the two become great friends. Still, the vampire does not turn liberal or anything—seriously, do not get him started on the Federal Reserve. But, you know, he does some growing. And in the meantime, the three of them get down to the real business of being monsters: killing lots and lots of people.
How many werewolves does it take to screw a light bulb?
Well, it’s hard to say. Keep in mind you’re asking about a group of dudes who absolutely do not give a fuck.