Our story begins with Marvin Gribble, a man whose life goal was simple: find the perfect joke. Not just a good joke, or a funny joke but the cosmic, earth-shattering, tear-inducing, side-splitting perfect joke. Marvin’s apartment looked like a clown exploded inside it. Rubber chickens hung from the ceiling, joke books teetered in precarious towers, and sticky notes with punchlines covered the fridge: “Knock knock. Who’s there? Still working on it.”
