Dead Funny

KNOCK KNOCK.

"For heaven's sake, I heard you knocking. I'm here, aren't I? It doesn't need spelling out," says Martha, drying the frying pan with a tea towel and wandering over to the table.

FACEPALM.  Tim's vocabulary was down with the grandkids.

"What? Were you telling a joke?"

YES YOU TW-

“Language, Timothy,” warns Martha sternly as she reclines into her armchair. The glass just stops short of reaching “A”.

"Alright then.... Who's there?"

H.

The glass hops up and down on this letter a few times.

"H... er, H..." This better be good, mutters Martha under her breath. "H who?"

BLESS YOU.

Martha groans. "I see the afterlife's doing nothing to improve your comedic talents."

TIME FOR SOMETHING NEW.

"Go on then, spit it out. I've things to get done."

SLAPSTICK.

The frying pan hovers in the air behind her and gives her a resounding hit on the head, knocking her dentures out into the glass.

HA HA, spells Timothy, making Martha's teeth rattle.