Q: How much does a pool in a condo building add value to the units?

A: Our central pool is a modern infinity pool, sleek and luxurious, and offering some of the greatest views in the city. The pool maintains a temperature of 72 degrees, allowing for year-round use. Six feet at it's deepest and two feet in the shallows, our pool also features six built-in chaise lounges for tanning, relaxing or chatting with friends. Our state-of-the-art media center features inputs for iPod, iPad, PS4 and XBox One. We have a water-proof high definition projector as well as a 204" screen that rises up from the pool at the push of a button. In under three minutes our pool can become your private screening room, discotheque, or personal oasis.  A pool like this will increase the value of your unit by at least $33,000. Once we clean out all the dead bodies.

Until we clean out all the dead bodies, the value of the units will remain where they are, which is very, very low.

Cleaning out all the dead bodies won't be as easy as you might think. As you can see there are hundreds of them, in various stages of decomposition. Removing so many dead bodies, quickly and quietly, would leave us deeply in the red and thus unable to offer such amenities as wifi in the common room or breakfast tacos every Thursday. The breakfast tacos might not seem appealing now but wait until we've removed all the bodies. When not accompanied by the overpowering stench of death, they'll be rather delicious.

Once we clear out all the dead bodies the vultures will leave. At least that's what the consultants tell us. We've hired a very well-regarded, very expensive firm, and while they're can't guarantee that the vultures will leave once all the dead bodies are removed - they are consultants after all, not prophets - they made a convincing power point presentation that suggests the vultures will leave once we remove all the dead bodies. Apparently, the bodies are a prime source of food for the vultures. According to the consultants, once we remove all the bodies, the vultures will abandon the pool in search of a new food source. Unless the vultures start eating the rats.

Getting rid of the rats will be rather difficult. Even if, sorry, when, when we remove all the dead bodies the rats are unlikely to leave. The dead bodies have been here so long that the rats have, well, I don't know how else to put this, the rats have settled in. They seem to have formed a society, with laws and commerce and government. They even elected a president. I'm not sure how you feel about rats, but I have to tell you, once you get over the fact that they're living and breeding in a pile of rotting corpses sitting in a condo pool, you have to admire them. The rat presidential debate was one of the cutest things I've ever seen. They built little podiums and everything. They made them out of human ears. You should have seen it, the two of them standing behind those rotten ears, shrieking back and forth, while the thousands of rats in the audience sat in rapt attention. I guess you wouldn't find it as cute if the ear they used had belonged to a loved one. But as far as we can tell these dead bodies don't have any loved ones. That's one of the benefits of living in a condo building designed for and marketed to single people: no loved ones cramping your style. I guess the downside is that no one cares if you die. But there's a good and bad side to everything.

So, how about we go back to my office and start filling out that application?

Q: How do you behave appropriately?

A: Every social situation, from a back-alley craps game to a State Dinner, has its own set of rules and codes. Navigating these rules, many of which are unwritten, many of which are contradictory, can be a challenge, even for the most talented social chameleon. But now, thanks to O.B.S.E.S.S.I.O.N., my simple social acceptance program, anyone, from any social class, can fit in anywhere.

When you find yourself in a new situation, unsure of how to act or what to say, take a deep breath, count to fourteen, and remember to:

O: Observe the situation.
B: Bomb a nearby car, van, rickshaw or building.
S: Secure cover from the blast.
E. Evaluate the survivors.
S: Secure a private conversation with a recent widow or adult orphan.
S: Seduce the recent widow or adult orphan.
I: Implicate your new lover in the bombing.
O: Offer to disappear for a substantial fee.
N: Never speak to anyone in this social group again.

By following the steps of the O.B.S.E.S.S.I.O.N. program, you'll always fit in, and always make out, no matter what new identity you've assumed.

Q: What is your first impression of the narrator?

A: Well, he's tall. I like that. And he's good looking. I am comfortable enough in my sexuality to be able to compliment another man on his appearance. He knows what he's talking about. He has something to say about every slide. That's no easy thing. He's presentable,  well dressed and clean. There are no crumbs on that man's clothes. As someone who always has crumbs on his clothes I admire someone who does not. I have no idea how he does it. He must wrap himself in a sheet of plastic before meals, or be a wizard or something. Perhaps he's on one of those all-soup diets. That would explain the lack of crumbs. Although if he did only eat soup he'd have stains on his tie, and his shirt, and his coat, and his hands. Trust me, I know. I tried an all-tomato-soup diet for a few weeks in my 30's.  I got soup everywhere. After a few days, my co-workers called the cops. They thought I was murdering co-eds in my RV. Can you imagine? The cops were pretty embarrassed once they realized it was only tomato soup. It was an awkward situation for all involved, but it did allow me to murder co-eds in my RV for several years without fear of detection. But I digress.

Q: How do you track aliens?

A: Stay silent. Stick to the shadows.

Step lightly. Training in Ninjutsu helps. If you cannot afford a trip to Japan to study under one of the great masters, at least wear all black. And buy some throwing stars. The metal ones they sell down in Chinatown, not the cheap plastic kind.

Learn their methods, their routines. They come out at night, and surround themselves with packs of beasts and warriors and occasionally princesses.

Lure them into the darkness with some Earth candy. They are partial to Reese's Pieces and Peanut Butter Cups and Snickers. Don't waste  your time with apples or popcorn balls. That will only anger them.

Once you have them alone, it's time to pounce.

A-HA!

Now that we have slain the dread alien, let us remove his hood and see his horrible face. But don't look directly, for your eyes might ...

Huh.

That doesn't look like an alien at all. That looks like a small human boy. Another small human boy. I could have sworn it was an alien.

Damn. This happens every October.

Q: Why is not day all over the world at the same time?

A: You have angered the Sun Gods. They will not shine on you again unless you follow their rules.

First, you must forfeit all your material possessions. You don't have to go all crazy with it and give everything to charity or set it all on fire. Packing everything into small, light boxes and leaving  them at your neighbor's door will suffice. Your neighbor North of you, not the other guy. Giving anything to your neighbor to the South will only anger the Sun Gods more.

Second, you're going to have to show loyalty to the Sun Gods in the form of a sacrifice. Again, there's no reason to overdo this. The Sun Gods don't expect you to sacrifice your children or your wife or anything. A few cows will do, as long as they are well butchered, free of fat and grilled to a temperature of 125 degrees.  Once you've sacrificed the tender filets, leave them on a table in your backyard. The Sun Gods will help themselves.

Third, no matter what you hear coming from the backyard, you must never leave your house. The Sun Gods are shy and vengeful. They quickly anger at the sight of man. The sight of women is a different story. Feel free to send out your wife and attractive adult daughters and their friends. But be warned, the Sun Gods hate the sound of human clothing. It would be best for the sake of humanity that the women arrive naked. And slightly tipsy. Sober, uptight humans ask too many questions of the Sun Gods. Too many questions make the sun explode.

Fourth, you must trust what I have told you. I speak on behalf of the Sun Gods. Few know of their existence. The world is full of cynics and skeptics who will insist that the Sun Gods don't exist. Do not believe these people. They are merely jealous of your relationship with the divine. You will be able to spot them easily. They will approach slowly, with concern in their voice, trying to convince you that my voice is not coming from the Mystic Plains of Light and Thunder but from a speaker embedded in your walls. While the Sun Gods frown on human sacrifice for the purpose of proving loyalty they do condone the murder of heretics. But they will not condone said murder if you own your home. Some of these ancient religions are a little weird like that. Just to be safe, you better sign over the deed to a complete stranger. Someone completely random, like, oh, your neighbor.

North side.

Q: What are some factors that endanger the future of the Chesapeake Bay?

A: For starters, commercial expansion. This area used to be pristine. Clear water. Nice beaches. Air that filled the lungs, made you feel capable of anything.  Then the office buildings moved in. Everyone wanted a bay view to impress the clients. Everyone needed places to park and places to eat. Soon the whole Bay became one slab of concrete, broken up by the occasional golden arch.

With the expansion came the pollution. Cars dripping oil. No-bid sewers mucking up the water. Restaurants burying their rotten bacon in the sand.

Honestly, even with the expansion and the pollution, it wasn't that bad. You could still get out on the water for some parasailing or jet skiing. Still some spots on the beach where you could set up a towel to tan or read a book or woo a potential lover, as long as you avoided the bacon graves. Simple tip: look for the assembled carrion and move away.  We still had a nice, quiet beach community.

Then the Civil War  reenactors came and it all went to hell. Someone decided that Chesapeake Bay would be the perfect place to reenact great naval battles of the War Between the States. I was unaware that the Civil War had naval battles, but I'm not exactly a huge Civil War buff. Had no idea they had submarines, either, but apparently they did. I doubt the actual submarines were tinfoil-wrapped canoes weighed down with cinder blocks, but that's all the reenactors could afford. Probably should have sprung for a real submarine. Or at least some scuba gear. I thought the beach full of rotten bacon smelled bad. That was nothing compared to a bay full of floating bloated fake Confederate corpses.

The Bay's seen better times, but we're a strong community and we could have pulled together, fished out the corpses, poured quicklime on the beach, driven off the office drones with calculated violence, burned everything to the ground and started over. We would have done it, too, if that that damn Cowboy Godzilla showed up. Now, we don't officially know if that's his name, or if he's a Godzilla, or even if he's a cowboy - there are no giant horses in sight - but he's big, green, scaly, he breathes fire, he rose right up out of the ocean, and he's wearing a giant steel cowboy hat. The name seemed to fir.

I've been living on the Bay for 56 years and I've never seen anything endanger it's future like that Cowboy Godzilla. On the bright side, the bodies of the drowned reenactors have formed a dam that have slowed him down and kept him from reaching the shore. Hopefully, it holds up until Tourist Season. I had a bunch of Cowboy Godzilla Spring Break t-shirts made that I'm going to sell over at the hot dog stand. They have a drawing of Cowboy Godzilla lighting a bong with his fire breath on the back. I think they'll be pretty popular with the college kids, and even more popular with the people who want to be popular with the college kids. Which is everyone.

Q: What is an island off of New York?

A: There are a few islands which lie off of New York, but there is none greater than the island where I live. My island is home to the finest artists, writers, actors, directors, scholars, philosophers, singers, crime-fighters, dancers, grifters and comedians in the world.

The people of my island, the creative ones I mentioned above, and the people beneath them, the models and clerks and managers and supervisors and electricians and cab-drivers and baristas and salesmen, and the people beneath them, the thugs and trainers and lawyers and street people and cannibals and mad scientists, are the most handsome people in the world. They say it has something to do with the water. You can't throw a rock on my island without hitting someone extremely attractive. You should not throw that rock; despite appearances, the people of my island can fight. And they will. And only to the death.

There is never a dull conversation among the people of my island, never a misspoken word or an ill-advised or poorly timed joke, or even an awkward pause. Everyone here is remarkably charming. Our candidates for office don't make speeches; that would be tacky, and everyone knows what they stand for anyway, as every citizen of my island stands for the same things: Truth. Honor. Naps.

Naps are mandatory on my island, both before and after lunch, and on Mondays and Thursdays, during. Naps may be received as gifts - they are the only gifts allowed by law - but it is illegal to give a nap as a gift. Christmas has become the most dangerous day on island, and fewer survive it each year.

The mortality rate on my island is high, very near one hundred percent. According to the last census, conducted this morning, I am the sole living person. It didn't always used to be this way. Originally, there were two of us, but after we rowed far enough out to sea and finished securing the shoreline, I killed Chet. He made fun of me for talking to the pretty corpses. For the record, I wasn't talking to them; I'm not crazy. I was making them talk to each other. It's exhausting work - there's so many of them - requiring frequent naps.

My island is made of corpses. Entirely so. You probably guessed from the smell. Despite the smell and the bloating and the carrion, my island is lovely. That's why I call Lovely Island. Feel free to dock here and come ashore.

And you can't hear me.

Maybe the next boat will be closer. I hope so. I'm very lonely. And I could use some help with the female voices.

Q: Where are the farming areas?

A: Right over there, across the street, next to the row of birches.  Everything before the creek and after the road is available. Lots are two grand each, 3 for 5. Just so there's no confusion, everything under the house is available, too. We're tearing that down tomorrow.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Isn't that my land he's pointing at? Did he just say he's going to tear down my house?" Just so we're on the same page, the answer is yes.

Before you start making vacant threats or winding up to punch me take a moment to read over these legal documents. As you can see, I hold title on your land.

While you were at the grocery store, I had you declared legally unfit to own property. Wasn't all that hard to do. Once I showed the judge all those saved episodes of Toddlers & Tiaras on your DVR, he signed the order in what I'm told was record time.

Bet you wish you hadn't gone to the store for those Cool Ranch Doritos.

Q: Are girls scouts as prepared as boy scouts?

A: They say they are. They share a motto, "Be Prepared."

Don't believe it.

Most Boy Scouts spend their idle time imaging a day when their parents will be gone, their teachers vanished, their friends mysteriously absent, leaving them all alone in a desolate wasteland. They plan for such a day - secretly hope for it - squirreling away food and supplies and toys in their tree forts or backyard pits. Most Girl Scouts spend their idle time trying to figure out a way to avoid creepy survivalist boys.

Boy Scouts love kung fu movies and pro wrestling and every other sort of pretend fighting entertainment you can imagine. They've picked up a few rather effective moves, along with many comically ineffective moves. But they are ready to spring these vicious attacks on any attacker at any time. They live in a constant of readiness. Girl Scouts live in a constant state of happiness. Except the sad ones. But they mostly keep to themselves.

Boy Scouts are far more prepared than Girl Scouts. If you insist on hunting the most dangerous game - man - but want to start somewhere realistic, your best option is a Girl Scout. Just don't make the same mistake Mr. Paley did and hang one on you trophy wall. Turns out folks around here are a little uptight.

Q: What type of license is needed to start a lawn care service in California?

A: I don't really think you need a license. If you want to earn a little money so you can take your girlfriend to the movies or buy her a necklace or pay for an abortion - I was a kid once, I understand that things happen; I just don't want to know - if you want a little extra money, for whatever reason, all you have to do is start knocking on doors and letting people know that you are willing to cut their grass or trim their hedges for a reasonable price.

I would assume it would help to have some experience in that sort of thing, not a resume or anything, but a familiarity with the basics of lawn care - you know, what to cut, what not to cut, that sort of thing. People take pride in their lawn and they wouldn't want to hire someone, even someone as young and handsome and obviously fertile as yourself - again, don't want to know - without knowing that they can trust you to spruce up the lawn and not clip their prized rhododendrons by mistake or confuse their beloved cat with a weed and run over it with the mower. What I'm saying is don't tell them about what happened when I let you drive the riding mower. Just keep that to yourself.

You'll also need some tools. Sure most people will have a mower you can use, but you can't expect them to have weed-whackers and hedge-trimmers and lye and insecticide. Some of that you'll have to provide. Or steal. Whichever makes the most sense. Again, please keep me in the dark.

You may not have the experience, or the tools, but you do have a passion for lawn care, and that might be enough. When people hire a lawn care professional, they want someone who is passionate about grass. They'll be willing to overlook a lack of experience and a paucity of tools if you can show them that you are passionate about making their lawn the belle of the block. But you can take that idea too far. Too much passion for grass will turn off even the most desperate homeowner. You understand what I'm saying?

Are you sure? Because it doesn't seem like you understand what I'm saying.

Please stop fucking the grass.

Q: What is the proper attire for a jazz dance class?

A: Some folks choose to go all out and come to class in full costume. Others opt for functionality and wear tights and leg warmers and a headband. Most show up up in a ratty t-shirt and gym shirts.

But no matter what outfit you choose, the one thing you can't wear is blackface.

I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Or at least wash your face.

I'm sorry, your deposit is non-refundable. You'll have to find some other way to pay for your burnt cork.

Q: What is cracked agate?

A: At first I thought it was some bizarre threat, or maybe it's a new drug, or popular music act - I'm so out of touch with today's music. I realized it could mean nothing, plain nothing. Gibberish. Kids today love to shout random gibberish at the top of their lungs. They think it's funny.

I realized I might have misheard him. He's talking real fast, running his words together. I noticed he's slurring some.

Then I saw the gate to my yard. What was left of it.

Then I saw the front of his car. And the rest of my gate.

Then I realized what he said.

Cracked a gate makes a lot of sense now.

Q: What materials are good for pipes?

A: Fruits. Vegetables. Tissue paper. Tiny pieces of cracker. Really anything small and soft and that will decompose and sluice through drains would be fine.

You know what's not good for pipes: chunks of dead hooker. Hundreds of bloody, messy chunks. All that bone and hair, that's gonna ruin your pipes and mess up your plumbing all over the house. But, I don't need to tell you that, you found that one out for yourself.

I don't know which is more appalling, that you murdered all these women, or that you were too lazy to chop them into smaller pieces. Did you really think you could flush an entire leg down the toilet? Or wash a head down the drain in the shower? Are you crazy or something?

Don't answer that question. I don't want to know. I'm here to fix your pipes, not write your biography.

Q: How many kids can you watch legally in Maine?

A: In a strictly legal sense, I am unable to watch children, except through a high powered microscope, from a distance of more than 500 feet. But, I don't see any cops around, do you?

Look, lady, there's no need to get all panicked and crazy. There's an old saying in babysitting: Cheap, Immediate and Legal - You get to pick two. If you want a babysitter "approved by the law," well, I wish you the best, but good luck finding someone on such short notice. Most of the "legal" babysitters are booked for the night.

That pretty much leaves you with me, or you could go to the Apple store and pick up the iBabySitter, but we both know you can't afford that. Judging by the runs in your stockings, the smell of your cheap perfume, and the holes in your finest "going out" clothes, you can't afford much of anything.

One thing you can afford: Me.

I don't cost much. Just a few dollars and whatever cheap wine you got lying around. I do it for the love mainly, the love of children. God bless their little hearts.

You are lucky I happened to be walking by your house when your babysitter called and told you she had to cancel. Funny how that worked out. I hope she gets over that stomach flu real quick.

How do I know she had a stomach flu? I'm pretty sure you mentioned it. I think it's the first thing you said when you ran out of the house and waved me down; you shouted, "Excuse me, kind, handsome stranger, my babysitter has taken ill with an ailment of the stomach most foul and I am in need of a trustworthy, honest man, such as yourself, to look after my kids for the evening."

That's how I remember it.

The evening's not getting any younger. Your husband's been sitting in the car for a while now and I assume he's about to lose his patience. From my count, that's his fifth beer. I'd hate to see how he gets if he finishes that twelve pack before you get to the restaurant. If you want to spoil your anniversary, be my guest. I'm just trying to help.

I thought you'd see it my way. Now, before you leave, I have a few questions: Are the children of a trusting nature? And how much experience do they have on camera?

Q: What do you call a clumsy fellow?

A: Really depends on your definition of clumsy doesn't it?

Would you call someone clumsy who can't grab a seat at the bar without knocking over someone's drink?

Would you call someone clumsy who manages to break a vase every time he visits your house, even though you don't own any vases?

Would you call someone clumsy who can't take a step without tripping over a cord, yanking it out of the wall, which causes a great many problems at his job with the hospital.

Would you call someone clumsy who wears a suit made entirely of bubble wrap, as ordered by the court?

Would you call someone clumsy who's legally forbidden to carry, hold, touch, or even look at a baby?

You would?

Well, then, we call him Stanley. He's the fella at the end of the bar wearing the bubble wrap suit.

I wouldn't get too close; we're letting him play darts tonight.

Q: What is the fastest way to get rid of a tattoo?

A: Laser removal can take weeks and leave horrible scars.

This cheese grater will only take a few seconds. However, it will also leave horrible scars.

Your best bet is simple amputation. Cut that arm clean off. I've already heated up the iron, so we can cauterize the wound.

This won't hurt at all. I've done it dozens of times and I've never felt a thing. The amputees never complain, either. Then again, they immediately go into shock and die.

I doubt that will happen with you.

34th time's the charm!

Q: What happens when you drink alcohol?

A: First, you begin to relax. You lighten up a bit and feel the stress of the day fade away.

Then, you become more talkative, your inhibitions disappear, and you'll really start to enjoy yourself.

Soon, you''ll discover that you have an opinion on everything, and you are not afraid to share it, at the top of your voice, and everybody better goddamn listen, because you are hilarious.

Eventually, you'll bump into a co-worker you consider attractive, or are able to convince yourself is attractive, and you'll spend a long time talking to her, inching ever closer, constantly wondering when's the best time to begin groping.

At some point you'll think shots are a good idea.

Oh my God! This place has beer pong!

Later in the night, you'll be amazed by some of your profound insights on the true nature of man, and by your ability to vomit into the urinal without missing.

Switching to scotch makes sense.

There are some fuzzy spots here.

Did I make out with someone?

I think I remember yelling. There was probably some yelling. And I may have bought a dozen Chuck Norris DVDs on Amazon?

In the morning, you will have a body headache, cotton mouth and unexplained bruises on your forearms. Your wife will be very mad at you. And you'll realize you are late for work, with barely enough time for a bong hit before you run out the door.

The good news: It's only a few hours until lunch, and the Mexican place on the corner has awesome margaritas.

Q: How do you call a friend that threw her problems on you?

A: That really depends on the nature of the problems.

If the problems are emotional, such as relationship drama, or financial difficulties,  simply take a deep breath, count to ten and realize that you are not responsible for your friend's emotional well being. Calmly offer your friend any advice you may have, but make sure you set proper boundaries. If you friend really cares about you, she will remain your friend. If she doesn't care, and she's only using you as an emotional crutch at her convenience, then you are better off without her.

If the problem is physical, such as the body of dead lover, or drifter your friend mowed down with her car while drunk driving, you have to start moving quick. You're in it now! By catching the body when she threw it, you became an accomplice. Your fingerprints are probably all over him, so you had better start helping. Again, take a deep breath and count to ten. Remember, there is a simple solution here: No body, no crime. You will need a hacksaw, and a vat of hydrochloric acid. Once you dismember the body, you can dissolve it  in the acid. Then, you'll have to help your friend come up with an alibi.

What do you mean you don't have a hacksaw?

What kind of a friend are you?

Q: Why might people want to live near water?

A: Sharks live in the water. Sharks. The most beautiful, spectacular creatures on Earth.

Who wouldn't want to gaze into their cold, black eyes all day long. Who wouldn't want to see their enormous terrifying smiles, full of row after row of razor-sharp teeth, each and every day of their life?

Who wouldn't want to nestle up against their wet, rough skin, and feel safe, and fall asleep for days?

Who wouldn't fall in love with a shark, and give it special treatment, and prominent placement in the aquarium, and provide it with the best chum and homeless people available? Who wouldn't do anything to be with a shark, to show a shark he loved it, even if it meant losing his job as a marine biologist?

Oh.

Really?

Just me?

Yeah, I guess humans and sharks really aren't meant to be together. I kind of realized that that one time I had sex with a shark. That was terrifying.

I learned a valuable lesson having sex with a shark: Never have sex with a shark.

As much as you may love a shark, it will never love you back. It's just a shark. It doesn't have feelings like you or me.

But it does have dozens and dozens of enormous teeth that will cut you to ribbons if you are not careful.

I guess people live near the water for other reasons, too, not only because they love sharks.

Some people love scallops.

Have you ever fucked a scallop?

Now that's a good time.

Q: What are bad things that can happen to you while mining?

A: Well, you can get the black lung. That's a big one. That'll kill you.

You can also hit your head, or hurt your back. Mining's pretty grueling work.

There's also the more existenisal concerns, like, "Am I meant to me a miner? Am I following my true path in life? Am I only doing this because my father was a miner, and my grandfather was a miner, and my great-grandfather dug an underground tunnel to hide from authorities for twelve years? Is this really what I want to do?"

Black lung and a broken back might kill, but they'll never be as painful as that morning when you wake up, look in the mirror after twenty-four years of mining, and realize that you hate mining, that you always wanted to dance. That's all you've ever wanted to do, just dance.

Yup, that was the worst day of my life.

Until today.

I forgot to mention cave-ins.

Those are the worst. Far worse than I ever imagined. And being a miner, you think about cave-ins a lot.

Yup, a cave in is the worst thing that can happen to a miner. By far.

On the bright side, I can't feel my legs. Or see them.

For all I know, they could be somewhere under all this rubble, dancing up a storm.

Oh, wait. There they are.

How did they get over there?

They don't look like they'll be dancing anytime soon.