"Well," he reasoned, "that guy said to go left here, but then again, I'm pretty sure that guy was Satan." He went left anyway.

"Even first place isn't good enough," he thought. "I need to win the Ultrafirst medal next time."

A wizard is suffering from floppy wand syndrome. His wife, a witch, is not pleased.

The zombie army entered the forest. Finally. This was the moment the Ents had been waiting for.

Despite the virologist's pleas, the activists release the infected rabbits, thus setting into motion a terrifying and adorable zombie movie.

"Well, I should probably put it back where I found it," reasoned Q-bert, shoving the iPad back into his rectum.

"Surrendah is naht paht of mah prograhmming," shouted the T-800 Cookie Monster, letting fly his grenade. "You'll nevah touch mah cookies!!"

"No, my good man," replied Holmes, "He was clearly starting to write 'Murder She Wrote was a pretty good show.'" "In his own blood?!" "Yes."

"I'll just see myself out," he squeaked. "You should have known, ain't no cage that can hold me!" He then scurried out the door to freedom.

"My...new precioussss," he wheezed. Sméagol galloped into the cave, new metal chain in tow. "Nasty hobbitses won't take precious from me!"

"I said ENOUGH!" he roared, turning to face his popcorn-throwing friend. "Do it again and I'll strangle you with your own intestines."

"Man," he thought, "this is the worst tattoo I could have possibly chosen."