Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Q: Why is evidence placed in a paper bag rather than a plastic one?

A: That wasn't evidence. That was my lunch.

Congratulations, you successfully "destroyed" a turkey sandwich on whole wheat, in a court of law, with the entire jury watching. I had high hopes for this case. With your clean-cut good looks and calm demeanor, the age and senility of the prosecution witnesses, the lack of corroborating physical evidence, and the awesome closing argument I wrote over the weekend, I really thought I had a good chance to win. I've never won a trial before and I thought this could be the one. But even if I didn't win, I knew I would enjoy a delicious lunch.

Thanks for ruining everything.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Q: What are your legal rights when there are rats in your apartment?

A: You have the right to feed the rats. You have the right to befriend them. You have the right to train them to dance, or water-ski, or fly through the sky on the trapeze. You have the right to dress them in matching costumes with those short capes that attach on one shoulder and headbands and sashes. You have the right to name them, individually and as a group, calling them something like The Amazing Ratini Brothers, or, if they do not appear to be brothers or your training leaves them a mark short of Amazing, The Briefly Distracting Dressed Vermin. You have the right to record their performance with a camera phone and upload the video to YouTube. You have the right to parlay the attention you receive from your video of dancing, water-skiing, acrobatic rats into a three picture deal with Paramount, or at least a pilot pickup from Spike. You have the right to forget all about your rats once you make it big in Hollywood, letting the world know that the rats were nothing but a group of lumbering disease-spreading clods who undermined your genius at every turn. You have the right to repeat your success with groups of trained hamsters, Chechnyan freedom fighters and Go-Bots, with diminishing career returns.  You have the right to reunite with the rats in 2023 for a live show in Utica and an interview with Carson Daly.

You do not have the right to withhold rent. I'm going to need a cashier's check or money order by the end of tomorrow. I will not accept rats as payment.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Q: Do you have a Plastic Tank Repair kit?

A: I have the kit. And the experience. And the time. But before you hire me, you should know:

There's no fixing your plastic tank. Your tiny turret is beyond repair, your miniature army will never fight again, those treads will thunder down on enemy troops no more.

There's an old saying in the tiny military: When you wage war on the Chinese, use a real tank. If you are unfamiliar with that saying it might be because of your ignorance of tiny military history, or because I just now made it up. I can't speak to your brain. But the saying remains as true today as when it was first spoke seconds ago; in that saying lay the seeds of your defeat.

I can't fix your tank. If you wish to capture Mr. Ling's Chinese Buffet, seek other means, maybe something other than a toy tank. No matter what you decide, what tactics, what strategy, please remember this one thing:

I really want an egg roll.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Q: Does a chip hurt a dog?

A: I spent eleven years designing this microchip, eleven long, lonely years stuck in a cabin in Nebraska, shunning society, my only friend an invisible Parrot named Mr. Cinnamon, working day after day after day, skipping meals, letting my hygiene suffer, straining my eyes - blindness creeping in - suffering hour by hour, minute by minute to design the perfect behavior modification chip, a chip that would make any dog behave, use the toilet like a man and prepare healthy dinners for a family of four.

I don't think I would have devoted a third of my life making such a chip if I wanted to hurt your dog.

Once I install this chip, and press this button, your dog will become the perfect companion. He will heed your every command, protect your home from intruders, dispose of his own waste, and thrill your guests with his culinary creations. Be aware, due to time constraints he will only know two recipes, Chicken Penne and Grilled Seabass with Wasabi Mashed Potatoes. At the end of the design process, I realized to program more recipes I would need to delete his ability to bark the song Black and Yellow by Whiz Khalifa. I think you'll agree I choose wisely.

Okay, chip's in. The bleeding will stop in a day or two. If it lasts more than a week, let me know. You can leave a note for me in an garbage can in Crescent Park. Trust me, I'll find it. One press of this button and you have the world's best behaved dog. There. He's ready.

Command him to sit.

That's odd.

Try again.

Does he usually foam at the mouth so much? Has he always had so many teeth?

Oh dear.

Please stop yelling, you're only making him angry. You should probably know that the microchip also gives him the strength of twelve dogs and the bloodlust of a Great White Shark.

I figured it wouldn't come up, unless you gave him an order to attack. Why would you ever do that if you wanted a well-behaved dog?

Now is not the time to argue over who misled who. We should stick together and join forces if we want to survive. Luckily I have an ace up my sleeve.

Mr. Cinnamon, attack!

Q: Is air considered matter?

A: On a molecular level, yes. On a useful, super-heroic level, no.

When you first showed up at our headquarters and introduced yourself as Matter-Eater Lad, I admit, we all had a good laugh. Just to be clear, the laugh was at your expense. Can you really blame us? Here we are, the Legion of Super-Heroes, the greatest superhero organization in the universe, and you show up, a fat kid with a ridiculous name. We figured we could make you run errands, trip you in the halls, smack your belly until you cry, then run you out of town, like we did with Metric Conversion Boy. But cooler heads prevailed and someone, probably Superboy, said "Hey, let's give this Lad a chance. His ability to consume all forms of matter might come in useful."

You see what happened there. He assumed you could consume all forms of matter. Planets. Gases. Missiles. Intergalactic telepathic starfish. Sentient supercomputers. Boats. Matter that, when consumed, might prove useful.

But you can't. All you seem to be able to "consume" is air.

You might call yourself Matter-Eater Lad, but you're nothing more than a fat kid trying to catch his breath. Was the name Constant-Disappointment-To-Parents Lad already taken?

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Q: What are some magical abilities?

A: Pulling a rabbit from a hat. Picking my card out of a well shuffled deck. Making tiny rubber balls disappear. Any of those tricks would qualify as magic.

Showing me how to save a few dollars on rental cars does not. Your so-called trick doesn't impress me and it certainly doesn't impress the children. When I hired you for my son's birthday party, I was under the impression that you were an actual magician, with a top hat and wand, perhaps a sexy assistant I could ogle - my wife's put put a few pounds since she had the baby and she's blocked all the porn sites - someone who could keep the kid's attention for an hour so I could sneak out back, smoke a joint and chug a beer. If I had know you were a "thrift wizard" I would never have let you into my home.

I don't care what it said in your ad, you should have told me when I called and booked you.

I don't remember you saying anything, and I've got a pretty solid memory. I can tell you the name, address and social security number of every witness at my trial. Even if you did tell me during the call, you should have told me when you showed up and saw all these young faces eager for entertainment.

I don't remember you saying anything. But I do tune you out when you start talking. Your voice is all nasal and whiny, reminds me of my parole officer. Once you get going, I start thinking about how much I'm going to enjoy stiffing you on payment and accusing you of leering at the kids. If you're wondering why I've been smiling, that's why.

Well, you've got about 42 minutes left on the clock, so you ought to get back to it. Here's some matches and a turtle. Figure it out.

Q: Does iron burn?

A: Sure does. Like the fires of hell.

Hot stuff. Hot.

Iron is an excellent conductor of heat. Once it gets hot, you shouldn't even touch it. One second will melt the skin off your hands. Two will sear muscle.

I'm starting to think I made a mistake installing a flame-thrower on my iron exo-skeleton. I'm cooking in here. The smell of roasting human flesh is less delicious than I imagined. I'm starting to wonder if I was right about anything.

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Ryan Callahan has written, produced, or directed shows for ABC, A&E, SHowtime, The CW, TVLand, Animal Planet and other networks even lower on your dial. When not making TV, or writing fake answers, he reads books, buys books, or buys books to read later. Follow WikiFakeAnswers on Twitter and Facebook