WEEK 23: HAPPY ENDINGS


You scratch my back and… I’ll slap you with a harassment suit.
Row, row, row your boat, gently down the… street.
Read my lips. New taxes.
The only thing we have to fear is… tractor-trailers exploding on the Beltway.
Watson, come here I… Damn. Hang on, Watson, there’s another call coming in.

This week’s contest: Modernize an old quote or expression by altering its ending. First-prize winner received what may be the ugliest clock ever manufactured, a value of about $50. We will say only that it appears to be constructed entirely of licorice. Runners-up, as always, get the coveted Style Invitational losers’ T-shirts. Winners will be selected on the basis of humor and originality. Mail your entries to the Style Invitational, Week 23, The Washington Post, 1150 15th St. NW, Washington, D.C. 20071, or fax them to 202-334-4312. Entries must be received on or before Monday, August 16. Please include your address and phone number. Winners will be announced in three weeks. No purchase necessary. Employees of The Washington Post and their immediate families are not eligible for prizes.

REPORT FROM WEEK 20 in which we asked you to rewrite either of two 60-year-old comics, filling in balloons with contemporary subject matter.

But first, a brief aside. We have received calls and letters requesting the name of the Czar of the Style Invitational. Regrettably, we cannot disclose this. At The Post, it is a closely guarded secret, like the identity of Deep Throat, which is known only to Bob Woodward and the Czar of The Style Invitational. Thank you.

First Runner Up:
Mark Brackett, Laurel
(Man on knees extends both arms to woman, who is only visible from the left side)
Man: Be reasonable, my dear. This cruel game must end. Give me back my penis and I will return your arm.

(Man standing with woman, holding her by the right arm)
Man: There, see? I have reattached your arm.
Woman: But now my arm has a permanent crook in it!

(Woman points with left arm to man, who’s standing in front of doorway)
Woman: Leave and don’t return until you can give me an arm I can straighten like this one.

(Woman in doorway, Man walking down stairs outside door, partially out of sight)
Woman: BEAST!
Man: Egad, my feet also seem to be missing. And why am I wearing fishnet stockings?

And the Winner of the Vintage Typewriter and six tomatoes from Joel Achenbach’s garden:
Tom Gearty, Washington
(Man on knees extends both arms to woman, who is only visible from the left side)
Man: Let me help you. I’m begging! Are you sure you’re okay? You aren’t in pain?

(Man standing with woman, holding her by the right arm)
Man: No nausea? No weakness? How does it feel when I twist this arm?
Woman: It feels fine! Let me go!

(Woman points with left arm to man, who’s standing in front of doorway)
Woman: For the last time, I feel great! Get lost!

(Woman in doorway, Man walking down stairs outside door)
Woman: Don’t show your face around here again, Kevorkian!
Man: Promise you’ll call me if you start to feel under the weather!

Honorable Mentions:
Paul Kondis, Alexandria
(Man on knees extends both arms to woman, who is only visible from the left side)
Man: I love you. I have always loved you. I knead you.

(Man standing with woman, holding her by the right arm)
Man: See how I knead you? May I have this arm in marriage?
Woman: You are tiresome.

(Woman points with left arm to man, who’s standing in front of doorway)
Woman: This is the arm you shall get! A forearm to the chops! Get out!

(Woman in doorway, Man walking down stairs outside door)
Woman: And none of your stupid puns on the way!
Man: Alas, to be forward is to be forearmed.

Steven King, Alexandria
(Woman in a chair sitting across from shorter bald man with a mustache who’s also sitting in a chair.)
Woman: You have to help me. I am accused of murder!
Man: My god! I don’t believe it! You seem so nice!

(Woman leans forward)
Woman: I did it, but I was suffering from pre-menstrual insanity.
Man: Don’t worry. We’ll get your shrink to testify you were insane.

(Woman stands up. Man collapse’s back in chair.)
Woman: I wish we could, Looie. But I killed him last month!

Jim Tucker, Charlottesville
(Woman in a chair sitting across from shorter bald man with a mustache who’s also sitting in a chair.)
Woman: I’m sick of your lewd comments! I’m your secretary, not your mistress!
Man: I’d love to change that right now!

(Woman leans forward)
Woman: That’s it! I’m suing you for sexual harassment!
Man: Fine. Perhaps Clarence Thomas will hear your case!

(Woman stands up. Man collapse’s back in chair.)
Woman: Hmm. You’re right. Let’s go with option number two. Got a filet knife?

And last:
(Woody Franke, Reston)
(Woman in a chair sitting across from shorter bald man with a mustache who’s also sitting in a chair.)
Woman: Dad, I’m going to join the marines.
Man: Do you think that’s wise, son?

Next Week: A So-So Contest