“Chuck said, “Hey. How many surrealists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” Cawley looked over at him. “I’ll bite. How many?” “Fish,” Chuck said and let loose a bright bark of a laugh.”
“How many psychiatrists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” “I don’t know. How many?” “Eight.” “Why?” “Oh, stop overanalyzing it.”
“How many performance artists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?I don't know. I left early.”
“He also deeply distrusts vampires, as you had guessed yourself,” Bones added. “Aside from that, all I heard was enough repetitions of ‘how many chucks could a woodchuck chuck’ to make me want to stake myself.”
“How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck chlamydia?”
“How many Zen masters does it take to screw in a light bulb? The plum tree in the garden!”