“Phew, that was close,” said his brother Frank as it missed. Together they were the Hardy Boys©.

“It doesn’t look like that souped-up motorboat is supposed to be in the water,” said Joe, manning the mast of their schooner the S.S. Sleuth as Frank pulled out a megaphone. “Stop, dead to rights!” he yelled. “Citizen’s arrest!”

That’s when the shady figures on the motorboat started yelling in a suspicious foreign language. Joe deduced that it was probably Spanish on account of the recent problems Bayport was having with illegals.

All of a sudden, the motorboat stopped—dead to rights.

“Knuckleheads,” cursed Frank.

“Yeah, what are you trying to do, wreck down here or something?” shouted Joe. “Shoot!”

Frank jotted down some clues on his detective pad—like how the leaves were changing with the season. “The boat is named MS-13,” he gleaned.

“Probably for the thirteen knuckleheads on board,” Joe joked.

Frank chuckled. “You know, I have a hunch that the school’s missing football pennant just might be onboard with those characters.”

“Yeah!” said Joe, handing his brother a flashlight and a wink. “Let’s put these boys away. I hear Peggy Sue is having a necking party tonight.”

-Hi, how are you?
-I’m good thanks. Just filling her up.
-Ah, same over here. Just a lazy Sunday.
-Yes sir.
-…
-…
-Ayak.
-What?
-Hello!

THE DETENTION

Phantom gets Saturday detention with five of his classmates.

“A brain, a beauty, a jock, a criminal, and a basketcase – to the rest of the world, we seemed so different…” muses Rick, the jock. “Who would’ve guessed that we all hate freaks?” “I see him looking at me!” shouts Jaime, the beautiful girl.

“I thought I told you to stay inside your hole,” Patrick tells Phantom, approaching ominously.

THE BLIND DATE

Phantom worries that his blind date will be frightened by his face – but gets a lucky break.

“Hello, I’m Gina,” the date says as she enters the restaurant, turning to reveal her face to the audience. She has Down syndrome.

Thank you, God, thinks Phantom.

THE SUB

There’s a new substitute teacher at Paris High – and she thinks Phantom is a troublemaker.

“Take off that silly mask!” the teacher tells Phantom during roll call. An hour of strategically placing objects in front of his face ensues. “And just what do you think you’re doing?” she asks him repeatedly.

“Oh, me?” Phantom says, holding, for example, a math book an inch in front of his eyes. “Just trying this new type of studying – closestudy, it’s called!”

THE MASQUERADE

Phantom is excited to go to Paris High’s annual masquerade ball.

I can’t believe it, thinks Phantom, happy for the first time in ages, I’m dancing with Stacy, the girl of my dreams.

“Look, everybody!” someone shouts. “That kid has only half a mask – he must be poor!”

THE LOST OINTMENT

Phantom loses his ointment jar. He gets terrible mask sores.

“Oh no, where did I put my jar?” Phantom asks.

I am writing this memo because of a certain incident that I don’t think I even need to mention, but suffice it to say that it involved a certain male employee’s comment about another employee of unspecified gender’s vagina. I’m not going to repeat the comment for fear of being overly hilarious—we all know Paul has a heart condition. Sorry if people didn’t know that, Paul.

Your female coworkers are a valued resource of our company. They are just like any other company resource, except sexier. And like every other company resource, they deserve our deepest respect and admiration. I only ask that you respect up close, but admire from afar.

I know we all have the best of intentions, but we still need to watch what we say. Women can sometimes take things the wrong way, but other times they will realize that we are harassing them. There is one topic that is just too taboo to joke about. But if you have a really good one, you can use the following code word and only us men will know what you’re talking about: ravage.

I know that tensions can sometimes build, and if you ever find yourself in need of a sexual release, just remember that we have bathroom stalls for a reason. I’m not sure why, but trying to figure it out always calms me down. In closing, the best advice I can give you is the so-called “golden rule”: silence is golden. Also, don’t say anything sexually harassing.

Unharassingly,
Your boss

For thirty years I have braved the cold distance between our worlds, rocketing towards your planet within the thick steel walls of my space boat – the pinnacle of Martian machinery and able to travel at a speed which rivals that of a Martian sand boat. Lo how we sand-boat the Martian dunes with might.

Yes, for three decades I have studied your culture via the encyclopedic records of your books and bookish pamphlets. How I laughed at the limited functions of your calculators! For our calcu-computers must be at least three times as functional. Data input: 8 punch cards per minute. Quake humans, for I have alphabetized your names and sorted them into piles.

Years ago, Martian engineers were able to harness the infinite power of sound waves, creating a sonic super-weapon so powerful that it can shatter even the most durable, 8- watt incandescent light bulb. Prepare for perpetual, nighttime-only darkness to sweep your walkways and the paths you ride your beasts on!

In conclusion, those who wish to be spared may sign up for a job in our factories, where you shall learn how to wield the power of steam.

One recent study found that seventy percent of people with genital herpes contracted the virus from a partner with no visible signs of an outbreak.

More disturbing fact:

This means that thirty percent of people contracted the virus from someone who they could clearly see had a genital herpes outbreak.

August 9 – I have stumbled upon a campground where natives are burning trees to the ground using our gunpowder. Is this some sort of spiritual offering? I plan to return tomorrow with my men so we can begin an open-minded discourse on the comparative merits of our two religions.

August 10 – We returned to the campground today, but the natives refuse to enlighten us with their worldview. Instead, all they do is bow to us and bring us gold. I keep telling them we just want to talk, but they won’t stop chaining themselves together and performing menial labor long enough to listen. Whenever my men and I attempt to free them with our tools, they stubbornly insist that the only tools they need are the Bibles they have already stolen from us and memorized.

August 13 – Our ship is so full of gold that it can barely stay afloat. I don’t know when the natives transported it all, but they must have somehow done it while we were asleep. My only wish is that we had known ahead of time so we could have helped our generous new allies, or at least removed their shackles.

August 16 – Now that they have no more gold to give us, the natives have taken to destroying their homes in frustration, and also building churches. My crew and I have no choice but to bathe in silent protest.

August 20 – The natives keep running up to us, taking our weapons, and using those weapons to kill themselves before we have a chance to stop them. This has happened twelve thousand times.