adzuom's "Pole-vaulting Mona Lisa Poppin" Aristocrats Joke

A family walks into a talent agency. It's a father, mother, son, daughter and dog. The father says to the talent agent, "We have a really amazing act. You should represent us."

The agent says, "Sorry, I don't represent family acts. They're a little too cute."

The mother says, "Sir, if you just see our act, we know you would want to represent us."

The agent says, "OK. OK. I'll take a look."

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The son, in short gym shorts, lies down on the ground and pulls out a trumpet. He starts playing ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’

“Well done son, just keet that up.” The father puts down a black leather bag, similar to the one carried by Mary Poppins in the Disney classic. Out of the bag he pulls a broomstick, crudely sharpened.

He presents the broom to his daughter, she looks uncertain.

“Come on honey, you’ve done this plenty of times” He laughs nervously towards the agent.

The daughter takes the stick and breathes hard. She takes fifteen steps away from her brother and her mother whips off her sons shorts, revealing his tense white ass.

As the daughter starts off at a run, the mother and father join their son in song.

“I want to be/In that number/Oh when the saints go marching in!”

The daughter rams the broomstick between the vice-like clench of her brothers butt cheeks, the note he’s playing falters as he exhales hard. His sister uses her momentum to pole-vault into the air, pulling a somersault and landing on her feet, miraculously holding her bra aloft, having removed it during the jump.

The agent gasps.

The son gets up and pulls a revolver out of the black bag. The mum kneels down but looks up, scared.
“You’re sure they’re blanks honey?” She’s sweating.
“What?...oh sure, yeah”
The father winks at the agent and runs round to his kneeling wife. He licks his finger and starts arranging her hair, fiddling with the tiniest details of every follicle.
He steps back and the son walks forward gun drawn.
He puts it to his mother’s temple and pulls the trigger. The noise makes the agent and daughter jump and without a cry the mother slumps to the ground. On the wall next to her is a near-perfect blood-spatter recreation of the Mona Lisa.

The agent applauds wildly. The remaining members of the family line up to take a bow but out of the skylight crashes a woman in petticoats, dangling from an umbrella.

She eventually reaches the ground and strides over to the bag, picks it up and begins to float off. The father thinks quickly,
“Sick em’ Barrington!”
The Rottweiler sprints after the intruder and leaps into the air, chomping down on the shin of the rising lady. The crunch of bone is audible to all in the room, as is the agonied scream of the woman.
Out of nowhere the son, runs out butt-naked and crash-tackles the woman into a wall. He gets up and snatches the umbrella and impales her with it. She chokes and splutters, blood with the consistency of a fresh milkshake gurgles from her mouth, staining her immaculately pressed clothes.

The father stands over her menacingly.
“Trying to interrupt my act? Looks like you’ve hurt yourself. You know what you need? Some medicine!”

The son picks up his trumpet once more. The dog howls along as they all sing a rousing rendition of ‘Spoonful of Sugar’. When they get to the chorus the father opens the bag and removes a large bottle with the label, ‘white phosphorous’.

He yanks Poppins’ hair back, sending a fresh dribble of blood running down her chin. He pours some of the liquid onto a spoon. It fizzles as it goes down her throat and face, causing the skin to bubble and pop. She slides down the wall, her eyes glazed. Never again will she torment young people with her upbeat songs and positive messages.

The daughter removes Mary's boots and places them on the dog, who looks silly, tries to walk away and falls over.

For the longest time, the agent just sits in silence. Finally, he manages, "That's a hell of an act. What do you call it?"

And the father says, "The Aristocrats!"


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