My last two columns were pretty serious, so I thought I'd troll the internet for some horror jokes this time. (And apologies in advance for the "groaners"!)

(The following are from cavernsofblood.com:)

Do zombies eat popcorn with their fingers? No, they eat the fingers separately.

What do you call someone who puts poison in a person's corn flakes? A cereal killer. [Note: Of course there's even a band by that name.]

Why do mummies have trouble keeping friends? They're too wrapped up in themselves.

Why did the vampire subscribe to The Wall Street Journal? He heard it had great circulation.

Why did the cyclops have to close his school? He only had one pupil.

What did the skeleton say to the bartender? "I'll have a beer and a mop." [An oldie for sure.]

(And these "Rules" are by David Speakman:)

Never read a book of demon summoning aloud, even as a joke.

As a general rule, don't solve puzzles that open portals to Hell.

Don't fool with recombinant DNA technology unless you're sure what you're doing.

If your children begin speaking to you in Latin or any other language they don't know, or in a voice that's other than their own, shoot them immediately.

(Then these gross-outs, from one Dr_Gor:)

How do you make a dead baby float? You use two scoops of ice cream and one scoop of dead baby.

Why is it easier to unload a truck full of dead babies than a truck full of bowling balls? With the dead babies you can use a pitchfork.

(And speaking of pitchforks, one of my favorites I heard somewhere but can't seem to find on the net - can anyone help with the source?:)

The murderous mob with pitchforks and torches gathers at the inn. They rush to Dracula's castle, but Dracula isn't home. They rush on to Frankenstein's, but he isn't home either. For a moment, they huddle in confusion. But then somebody shouts, "To the innkeeper's!" [Note: This is a bit too close for comfort to actual mob psychology.]

(Now a few mordant one-liners by Rodney Dangerfield:)

I could tell my parents hated me. My bathtub toys were a toaster and a radio.

When I was born, the doctor came into the waiting room and said to my father, "I'm sorry. We did everything we could, but he pulled through."

I remember the time I was kidnapped and they sent a piece of my finger to my father. He said he wanted more proof.

My uncle's dying wish was to have me sitting in his lap. He was in the electric chair.

(And I'll end - maybe mercifully - with two wicked little rhymes from the 1920s:)

Little Willie fell down the elevator. Wasn't found till six weeks later. Then the neighbors said, "Gee whiz! What a spoiled child Willie is!"

In the drinking well - that the plumber built her - Aunt Eliza fell. We must buy a filter!

(P.S. Please share your own - hopefully better - horror jokes, via the Comment button below.)