Four-toon tell­ers: Win­ning cap­tions

The Washington Post Sunday - - DIVERSIONS -

BY PAT MY­ERS In Week 1232 the Em­press asked you, as she does two or three times a year, to write one or more cap­tions for car­toons by Style In­vi­ta­tional Artist 4 Ever Bob Staake.

4th place

Pic­ture D: The of­fice’s pro­duc­tion of “Romeo and Juliet” was ham­pered by a very small bud­get. (Rob Huff­man, Fred­er­icks­burg, Va.)

3rd place

Pic­ture B: “I told you your sis­ter would just die if we an­nounced our en­gage­ment!” (Mark Raffman, Re­ston)

2nd place and the “Free Tommy Chong” T-shirt from 2003:

Pic­ture C: “For our lovely Amer­i­can vis­i­tors, tonight’s spe­cial is “Pot de Cham­bre.” (John McCooey, Re­hoboth Beach, Del.)

And the win­ner of the Inkin’ Me­mo­rial:

Pic­ture D: “Good grief, Doris! Ailes and O’Reilly are gone, okay? Now get those sweet cheeks down here and pour us some cof­fee al­ready.” (Jesse Frankovich, Grand Ledge, Mich.)

Droopy draws: Hon­or­able men­tions PIC­TURE A

Sal em­phat­i­cally “ex­plained” to Of­fi­cer Pupp that “free press” does NOT re­fer to the sale price. (Larry McCle­mons, An­nan­dale) “Don’t blame me, Of­fi­cer McGre­gor; I told you it was hard­hit­ting cov­er­age.” (David Bal­lard, Re­ston; Bill Lieber­man, El­li­cott City) “You’re look­ing for a ‘cop on the beat’ deal? How about a ‘beat on the cop’?” (Brad Alexan­der, Wan­neroo, Aus­tralia) “A cop on duty should not be tok­ing a gi­ant blunt!” (Jeff Con­tom­pa­sis, Ash­burn) Astronomers mar­veled at the dis­cov­ery of two very large plan­ets, one shaped like a po­lice­man and the other a news­stand, in the vicin­ity of Saturn. (Mark Raffman) An ex­am­ple of one of those “Nox­ious Emis­sions Widely Spewed” stands that have been pop­ping up since the elec­tion. (Bill Lieber­man)

And Last: “I don’t care how long you’ve been asleep, Of­fi­cer van Win­kle, here in 2017 the Sun­day Wash­ing­ton Post costs $3.50 a pop, and it still runs The Style In­vi­ta­tional.” (John Hutchins, Sil­ver Spring)

PIC­TURE B

“Dang, I shouldn’t have ad­ver­tised for un­der­tak­ers on Mon­ster.com.” (James Scar­bor­ough, McLean, a First Of­fender) “My or­ders are to re­cover the mono­lith we placed on your world eons ago, not an Ikea book­case.” (Jeff Con­tom­pa­sis) “Mom! You know I only eat liv­ing bod­ies . . .” (Rob Huff­man) “No way, He­len! It says I get all the coffins right here in our prenup.” (Jesse Frankovich) “Not so fast, Mom. We shouldn’t play Gi­ant Jenga un­til we’ve read the in­struc­tions.” (Jesse Frankovich) “On Jupiter, we re­quire a writ­ten con­tract for the sale of half a Kit Kat bar.” (Mark Raffman) “Whoa, whoa, whoa . . . Where in the script does it say I have a love scene with Carol Chan­ning?” (Bird War­ing, Larch­mont, N.Y.)

“No, Org ask you bring me BEER!” (Jesse Frankovich)

All that Granny could think about on en­coun­ter­ing the lizard­like, one-eyed, spike-tailed un­der­taker was: Why does he have nip­ples? (Mark Raffman)

PIC­TURE C

“. . . and the fly is gluten-free.” (Marni Pen­ning Coleman, Falls Church) “Ac­tu­ally, he’s do­ing the 100cen­time­ter in­di­vid­ual med­ley.” (Ja­son Russo, An­nan­dale) “Out of re­spect, you should wait for these two to fin­ish mat­ing.” (Dave Pre­var, An­napo­lis) Gas­pard’s strong accent led many din­ers to re­ject their com­pli­men­tary bowls of the chef’s Spe­cial Golden Chow­der. (Frank Osen, Pasadena, Calif.) “Per­mit me to stir it with my um­brella.” (Marty McCullen, Get­tys­burg, Pa.) “I think your first course just ate the se­cond.” (Frank Mann, Wash­ing­ton) “Just close your eyes and imag­ine they’re noo­dles.” (Jesse Frankovich) To the din­ers’ dis­may, Google trans­late con­firmed that “soupe avec élan” could mean ei­ther “soup with zest” OR “soup with moose.” (Jeff Con­tom­pa­sis)

PIC­TURE D

Fine, Ms. Jenk­ins, you win. Come down and we’ll al­low you to make seventy-EIGHT per­cent of what we do. (Art Gri­nath, Takoma Park, Md.; Ja­son Russo) “Calm down, Marge. When I said ‘four­some,’ I meant golf.” (War­ren Tan­abe, An­napo­lis) When the traps baited with $100 bills didn’t work, Mrs. John­son re­al­ized grimly that her kitchen was not in­fested with or­di­nary lawyers, but rather with LOB­BY­ISTS. (John Hutchins) Un­for­tu­nately, one of the char­ac­ters on Lizzie’s Loser mag­nets re­sem­bled the CEO of the firm. (Dave Pre­var) Still run­ning — dead­line is also Mon­day, July 24: our song par­ody con­test for lyrics about sci­ence and tech­nol­ogy. See wapo.st/in­vite1235.

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