When she died, she was running.  Kept right on running, actually.

People would wonder how she could still be running (being dead and all) but instead of asking that, they would ask,

“Why won’t you stop running?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m running late.”

You’d love it here.  All the hottest women who’ve ever died are here, and they’re all up for anything.

I just had a threesome with Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield.  Yeah.

Next, I’m going to jam for a bit with Lennon, Elvis, Hendrix and Keith Moon.

Your Son

Not the monkeys!  They thrived, using their above-average intelligence (for animals) to mimic the humans who once took care of them.

They multiplied. There was monkey shit everywhere.

A sea of monkeys.

Monkey sea, monkey doo-doo.

But his mother had died years before; her death caused his psychological problems.

Still, he found a time machine, and accomplished his goal.

Then he realized when and how he would die.

They gradually learned to trust each other, and became good friends.

The alien pilot told the human he was pregnant (don’t ask) then died.

The human’s bittersweet joy at this event was interrupted when thousands of baby aliens devoured him.

The machine jolted him back to life, repairing any damage within minutes.

It did everything to keep him happy, producing entertainment, stimulating conversations, and everything else it thought he needed.

But it could not give him a purpose.

Meaningless immortality.

Everyone knew it was there, but no one dared use it.

Each one of them died, one after the other, while the detective tried in vain to puzzle things out.

In the end, he died, too.

And the gun remained in the drawer.

“Come with me, and live in eternal bliss, love and happiness,” said the angel.

“Sounds boring, don’t it?” said the little devil.  “Come with me, it’ll be fun!”

“Your pants are on fire,” said John.

“Occupational Hazard,” said the devil.