Whoopee Cushion Quotes

Even the shadows on the walls were silent, while the two of them looked at each other as if they’d just sat on a whoopee cushion,” said Xemerius, coming down from the chandelier and flying after us. “Romantic violin music began to play as the girl in the piss-yellow blouse and the boy who badly needed a haircut walked out of the room side by side.

In Boffo’s Novelty and Joke Emporium in Ankh-Morpork, all the whoopee cushions trumpeted in a doleful harmony;

I was walking through the forest when I thought I heard a tree fart. But no, it was just one of my ducks. It had set up a vending booth and was selling whoopee cushions to politicians who had run out of speech ideas that are sure to make VOTERS cheer.

The worst thing about being an adult is the fact that we can do basically whatever we want. You can have Chicken McNuggets and champagne for dinner, but you know that the next day you'll feel like a whoopee cushion made of alcohol and sodium. Yeah, adulthood.

Humor has a way of bringing people together. It unites people. In fact, I'm rather serious when I suggest that someone should plant a few whoopee cushions in the United Nations.

throw pillows or electric whoopee cushions on the sofas.

I once compiled a list of events that frightened her, and it was quite comprehensive: very loud snoring; low-flying aircraft; church bells; fire engines; trains; buses and lorries; thunder; shouting; large cars; most medium-sized cars; noisy small cars; burglar alarms; fireworks, especially crackers; loud radios; barking dogs; whinnying horses; nearby silent horses; cows in general; megaphones; sheep; corks coming out of sparkling wine bottles; motorcycles, even very small ones; balloons being popped; vacuum cleaners (not being used by her); things being dropped; dinner gongs; parrot houses; whoopee cushions; chiming doorbells; hammering; bombs; hooters; old-fashioned alarm clocks; pneumatic drills; and hairdryers (even those used by her).

The latter is very prepubescent." "Prepubescent!" Josh gasped. "Prepubescent!" "I am totally pubescent," one of his friends said. Another said haughtily, "I will have you know that my mom and I are going to Aspen to shop for training bras this weekend." I rolled my eyes. "Later." I slid off the bench and stood. "Hey,we're helping you go off the jump again tomorrow,right?" Josh asked, using the word helping very loosely. "Yeah," another boy said, "eleventh time's the charm." I looked toward the Galaga machine. Fiona was still there, yet Nick was gone. Probably just to order her a drink.Ordinarily, I would have bounced all over the restaurant searching for him so I could flirt him out of Fiona's pink-nailed grasp. But the whoopee cushion had taken the wind out of my sails.

But you know what? They all grinned at me in welcome,and Josh even scooted over to make room for me on the bench. At least I knew who my true friends were. Feeling grateful and loved,I sat down THPPPPTHPPPPTHPPPPT! I farted. Or so it seemed. The boys died laughing.I pulled the whoopee cushion out from under me and flung it on the table,which only sent them into another paroxysm. "Nick-Kriger-is-behind-you," Josh gasped between giggles. "He totally heard it over Galaga.Do you still want us to look without looking like we're looking?" This sent them into yet another laughing fit. "But don't worry," one of his friends said. "We'll act like we think you're hot." They all snorted and dabbed at their eyes faux-girlishly with paper napkins from the holder. Then,as if on cue, they started their rythmic heavy breathing,and I knew one of Josh's raps was coming. The people in the booths around us turned to look, if they weren't already staring at us outright because of the whoopee cushion.

That’s all right, pay no attention to me, just make yourself at home,” I tell the self-propelled whoopee cushion, then audit the itemized receipt with a sinking heart. Judging from the bottom line, cats fall somewhere between a new Porsche and a used Lamborghini in running costs, and I’ve got a nasty suspicion that I’m not going to be able to expense this claim. I mean, I might be able to concoct an experimental protocol that involves hosting one all-black specimen of Felis catus in the lap of luxury before sacrificing it on a summoning grid—but I suspect that would annoy Trish, and one should always avoid pissing off the departmental secretary.

The guy in the bed next to him was worse off than him. The poor bastard couldn’t talk. Instead he made noises that sounded like a duck trying to fuck a whoopee cushion. The

...though the jokers around the table be sneaking Whoopee Cushions into the Siege Perilous, under the very descending arse of the grailseeker, and though the grails themselves come in plastic these years, a dime a dozen, penny a gross, still he, at times self-conned as any Christian, praises and prophecies that era of innocence he just missed living in, one of the last pockets of Pre-Christian Oneness left on the planet: "Tibet is a special case. Tibet was deliberately set aside by the Empire as free and neutral territory, a Switzerland for the spirit where there is no extradition, and Alp-Himalayas to draw the soul upward, and danger rare enough to tolerate...Switzerland and Tibet are linked along one of the true meridians of the Earth...true as the Chinese have drawn meridians of the body...We will have to learn such new maps of Earth: and as travel in the Interior becomes more common, as the maps grow another dimension, so must we....

Heheh. The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It's ALWAYS funny." The kid gave a confused giggle as Sans tucked his hand back into his pocket. "Anyways, you're a human, right? That's hilarious. I'm Sans. Sans the Skeleton. I'm actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now. But…y'know…" Sans shrugged, "I don't really care about capturing anybody. Now my brother, Papyrus, he's a human-hunting FANATIC." Motion over the kid's head drew Sans's attention briefly and his face lit up. He'd know that silhouette anywhere, even from this distance through the light fog. "Hey, actually, I think that's him over there." He focused back on the kid, catching the tail end of their rotation to see what he was looking at. "I have an idea." The kid looked back at him. "Go through this gate thingy." The kid glanced at the gate, worry marring their expression. Sans nodded. "Yeah, go right through. My bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone." It was a breath, a moment that allowed Sans to watch as the kid's worry turned into determination, before the kid turned right around and walked through the massive structure's posts. Sans kept pace with them, following them through to the other side and then some. Surprisingly enough, the oddly-shaped lamp that had always been next to his station was suddenly conveniently-shaped and very useful, especially with his brother heading their way. "Quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp.