A blanket could be used to cover up my modesty. And used to cover up my nakedness.


A blanket could be used as a smothering agent, sort of like an employee of the NSA.


Orafoura paid me in pajamas, and I let him because the pajamas matched his plaid mustache.

My erection at noon causes an elongated shadow so black you’d think I was an albino.

A blanket is a coffin, if the cops are after you and you have to dump a body quick.


A blanket could be used as a cover of your favorite song by your favorite cover band.


A blanket could be frozen and used to cool off a warm body as you slowly thaw it out.


A brick could be cast in Samuel Jackson roles. It would be cheaper and more dramatic.


A brick could be a breath freshener for a dragon. But so could a mint-flavored baby. 


A brick could be used to silence your critics. Well, unless all your critics are mutes.


A blanket is a shield, blocking out the breeze, and an insulator, keeping in body heat.


A blanket cold be used as truth. At least it’s so warm, it must be used that way.


On the night of the murder I was at home, asleep. The characters in my dream can vouch for me.

A brick, in the hands of a Mason, could be used to cover up and hide a secret handshake.


A brick could be used to save humanity from mortality. Or at least save us from mortar.