O.K., Here's one.
One morning I heard Phil and Guy downstairs, screaming apparent random phrases. When I went downstairs, I found them in the living room with the TV turned to some daytime soap. They had a moist towel and two black designer markers. The soap was just one long conversation after another, closeup one shots, two shots, and three shots of people. Every time the shot changed, Phil and Guy would frantically wipe the screen clean with the towel and start screaming things like: beard on the woman on the left, sunglasses on the old guy! Hitler moustache! cigar! Cigar! and apply them with the markers as fast as they could before the shot changed.
They had gotten real worked-up over this procedure, and I don't know whether the people in the waiting room for the dentist office could hear it or not. This story may not sound that funny unless you knew Phil. Then you can picture it perfectly.
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