"Climate Change!" he exclaimed. The room

"Climate Change!" he exclaimed. The room was silent. One by one, audience members raised they're hands, but before he could call on any, a figure appeared in the

back, and slowly walked forward. The crowd rumbled, then roared. How could HE be HERE? They didn't know what he would say, but they know it would be

totally unfunny. Carrot Top through an administrative SNAFU had been booked at Michael Jackson's funeral. He was onstage when LaToya realized the mistake, she jumped up and

was knocked back into her seat by a flying chunk of rotten watermelon. LaToya screamed in agony. Later that night she couldn't sleep so she pulled out a bottle of Propofol and

took a few doses. She fell into a deep sleep and started dreaming: Her dead brother told her that Billy Jean was not his girl it was his sister. And then began to fondle her breast

and fantasize about Roman showers. In the past few weeks, this fetish had him microwaving parmesan cheese and water just to fill his double-wide with the smell of fresh

cooking. Unfortunately, some weird chemical reaction meant that it actually smelt of

he had applied too much cologne. Perhaps he didn't understand it's purpose was to keep the women interested once he'd already drawn them in.

Not overpower them with it's moldy musk. It wasn't "Old Spice" it was Extra old Ricein" and deadly, his own acquired immunity wasn't shared. The death toll was terrible and swift.