Wild Laughter in the Throat of Death by Scott O'Neill

The Night Guard trudges his morose rounds through the dungeon. “Prisoners, my very soul aches. I’ll free whosoever makes me laugh!”

Sullen silence.

Then, a knock-knock joke croaks through shattered teeth.

“Not funny.”

Puns wheeze from a thumb-screwed thief.

“Not funny.”

Finally, a raunchy jest about lusty widows coaxes chuckles from even the most demoralised prisoners.

The Night Guard laughs, taking out his keys. His mirth builds into howling paroxysms.

He drops dead.

“Too funny?” wheezes the punster.

The raunchy joke’s teller stares at the keys, just out of reach. He cackles brokenly as madness slithers past his shattered hope.