Kick the blanket, don’t kick the bucket—especially if that bucket is full of death (or bricks).


A brick could be used as a basketball. And when you miss a shot, you can always shout, “Brick!”


Cats are living, breathing blankets. But a blanket, no matter how furry, cannot be used like a purrless cat.


A brick could be used as a paperweight, if the words you wrote weren’t weighty enough to hold it down.


The morning always has a way of creeping up on me and peeking in my bedroom windows. The sunrise is such a pervert.

A brick could replace the cardboard bill on a baseball cap. On a windy day, no gust will knock your hat off.


If given the choice, I’d take five ones over a five-dollar bill, because women prefer men with lots of money.

A brick could be used to tell time. And just between you and me, I hope that brick tells time to go to hell.


A brick could be used to remind me of her. I mean everything else reminds me of her, so why not a brick too?


A brick could be used to deny you your dreams. And a blanket could be used as a gateway to all your dreams. 


She had no legs, so I made her wear suspenders and I carried her like a backpack.
True love knows no luggage.

A blanket could be used to cover up the bald spot all over my chest. That’s why I get so cold at night.


A blanket could be used to create another way. There is no other way but to make another way. We simply must!


A string of burglaries is a crime necklace. Everything I have can be stolen except love, because I give it all away.

A blanket could be used to keep you warm on a cold night. Just pour some gasoline on it and light it on fire.