The terrorist said, “I have a meeting with the President. I will take a parachute,” and he jumped off the plane with a backpack. The Catholic Priest said-

“Go young boy, for when I die, I will go live with God.”

“No thanks,” the Scout said. “That terrorist took my Boy Scout back pack.”

About 40,000 feet below them, a young boy sat on the curb in front of his house. He wished he could be a Boy Scout. Above him, the terrorist went to pull the parachute out of the back pack. All he got, was an expensive Boy Scout jacket. He tried again, five more times only getting hiking boots, a wad of money, another wad of money, and a Boy Scout Handbook. He dropped them all in frustration. I’m going to die! he thought.  Below him, the boy was still wishing…

“I wish I had a Boy Scout jacket.” thunk. In front of him landed an expensive Boy Scout jacket.

“Wow! I wish I had a pair of hiking boots.” thunk. The hiking boots joined the jacket.

“Well, my family is kind of poor, so I wish I had money!” thunk. A large wad of money plopped next to the boots.

“More money!” thunk.  Another wad of money.

“I wish I could have a Boy Scout handbook!” thunk. A Brand new Boy Scout Handbook!

“You know, I’m going to do America a favor. I wish a terrorist would die!” Ker-plop!

Adam was disappearing every night, and he was gone longer every time. Eve was begging to wonder where he was going. One time, in the middle of the night, Eve started poking Adam. Adam woke up and asked Eve why she was poking him. “I’m counting your rib bones,” she replied.

Albert and his wife left two days later, and soon they arrived at their destination. Albert was so excited. He got to see where Beethoven slept, where he ate, and the very first piano that Beethoven had played on. Well, the last part of the tour was to see the grave of Beethoven. As Albert was walking up to the grave, to his surprise, the coffin was open! Beethoven was sitting up, and in one hand he held a piece of music and in the other, he held a big pink eraser. He was busily  erasing his music.

“Beethoven, stop!” Albert cried. “What are you doing?” The reply was simple.

“Decomposing.”

It was once said that when a black guy became president, pigs would fly. Indeed, 100 days after Obama became president, swine flu.

            -Sass

This comic was copied from my BFF Jaime S.  It was my first attempt at comicing.

Is that how you spell it? Comiccing. Comiking. Whatever.