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Patrick Coyne

Patrick Coyne is a writer from Philadelphia. His work has appeared in Mcsweeney's, National Lampoon, Cracked, Splitsider, and other sites.

Comedy Writing

Also, I was just joking when I said in my initial email that I would fold the report into a paper airplane and dart it at your bulbous ass.

I still don’t even really know what an em dash is. Or care to know for that matter.

I mean just like, with the armed robbery in general, how do you think it’s going? Is this comparable to other bank robberies you’ve been through?

These here are magic coins that live inside yer lightning box, protected by some new-fangled doohickey called a “blockchain.”

Obviously, not eating tacos isn’t an option, so here’s some helpful ways to hide your undignified devouring.

However, I’m 86% certain that Fitzgerald never references a “$5 chicken meal deal from the McValue Menu,” right?

Me, a sweat-stained, yellowing bed pillow. You, a 42-year-old single man that clearly hasn't lived with a woman since moving out of his mom’s place.

We couldn’t have possibly known the janitor would return as a scarred ghoul hellbent on murdering teens. And besides, they’re YOUR dreams!

Just over and over again, and it’s been like three hours. Or possibly thousands of years, time sort of has no meaning here.

I like to say we should glorify God in everything we do, but is it really “glorifying” the Lord when you’re sucking major ass in the dodgeball arena?

Kara, from today onward, you and I will be one in heart, body, and mind. Hey, can we curse on this thing?

My sticker is hilarious because instead of a normie cartoon of my nonexistent wife and darling children, I’ve got two big guns.