A brick could be used to crush grapes. If that sounds unnecessarily cruel, then I guess you wouldn’t like to pour you a glass of wine. It’s a shame, because I made it myself. 


A blanket could be used to stop terrorism. Unless that terrorist has a small knife, or really sharp teeth, and is able to chew through the cloth separating him from our American freedom. 


Bricks could be used to pad the pockets of crooked politicians. Why stuff their greedy pockets with cash, when we could load them up with bricks and find out how good of swimmers they are?


A blanket could be used to sail with the wind. That wind is provided by my ceiling fan, and my boat is my bed. Why don’t you come over, and I’ll teach you the art of seafaring. 


A brick could be used to disguise the fact that I’m blushing. Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed! Don’t look at the rose of my ears, look at the rouge of the construction cube.


A brick is a rust-colored blur of movement, caught in a moment, and transformed from motion into a physical object. Studying this brick would give scientists an insight into how fast I run.


A brick could be used to decorate a house. And not just one brick, thousands could be stacked and affixed together and really make your house not only feel like a home, but less drafty too.


A brick and a blanket aptly describe my former roommate. He was as dumb as a brick, and only highly functional on a bed. Or so I heard—not that I’d know from personal experience.


A blanket could be used like a giant piece of paper. Most people just want to cum on it, but occasionally someone will want to splash ink on it and try to impregnate the minds of the people.


A brick could be used to unite two long-lost brothers. They’ve been apart for six inches, and that’s entirely too long, and I think it’d be good to bring them back together.


A brick could be used to gauge the level of reciprocated sexual interest of the person or object of your desire. A brick works best, however, when the focus of your lust is the brick itself. 


A blanket could be drenched in water, frozen, and then enjoyed like a giant cotton popsicle by prisoners of a gulag, who might consider this a tasty treat compared to what they normally eat. 


A brick could be substituted in for Kansas as a US state, because they’re roughly the same shape, they have the same topography, and I just found Topeka without the aid of a microscope.


A blanket could be considered part of performance art, if you’re inconsiderate and steal all the covers while we’re asleep—and film me shivering and twitching in the night. 


A brick could be used to double back, donkey levitate cough meow cough meow hiss on giraffe shaft stroke a local bloke bludgeon Armageddon—not my arm, Sorry, I think I just had a stroke.