A brick could replace your window, if your window’s opaque, and you throw the brick hard enough.


I have a fist like a brick, but I don’t punch through walls—I build them and become them. 


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


A blanket could be used to catch a hippopotamus. But you try it out first, and let me know if it works. 


For loose teeth the tooth fairy recommends tying your tooth to a brick and throwing said brick down the stairs.

A brick could be tied to a cape, and then exalted as a superhero. Is that any more absurd than Superman?


A blanket could be used to mimic the mating call of my crumpled-up clone. Isn’t silence seductive?


A brick could be used as a flashlight. What, still dark? Check the batteries, because they may be dead. 


The Bible talks about building houses on sand and rock, but says nothing about a brick house built on a blanket.

A brick could be used to enslave humanity. No wait, a brick can’t do that—but the Masons can.


A blanket could be used in exciting medical advancements, curing everything from shivers to tonitrophobia.


A brick and blanket could be used as a large slingshot, put the brick in the blanket swing it around and release.

On is to no, as Dora J. Arod is to Dora J. Arod. And brick is to blanket, as Dora J. Arod is to Jarod Ora.


A brick could be used in religious ceremonies. After all, it is slightly better than using live human sacrifices.

A brick could be used as a musical instrument. But it would take someone as deaf as Beethoven to enjoy it.