what turns red, blue then white? the last person that I’d strangle
The teacher asked her class to use definitely in a sentence. Little Johnny raised his hand to answer, yet the teacher passed him and went on to Kevin. “The sky is definitely blue.” “Very good Kevin,but the sky can also be blue or black.” the teacher replied. Little Johnny raised his hand again as high as he could, yet the teacher passed right over him. And picked Annie from the back of the room. “The grass is definitely green.” “Very good Annie, but it can also be brown.” Little Johnny was waving his hand like crazy seeking her attention. Finally she called on him. “Mines more of a question, but do farts have lumps in them?” “Why no Johnny why would you ask such a question?” She questioned. “Well if they don’t have lumps in them, then I definitely just shit myself.”
A boat carrying red paint ando a boat carrying blue paint crashed into each other. The crews were marooned
Alright kids! Find a good places to stop! Then, out of the blue, Billy died. But hey, he went to a better place.
A man was mowing his lawn when blue and reg stuff came out instead of grass. Next thing he knew a smurf was on his shoulder asking if he’s seen his friend.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Because the chicken had 4 chicks and a cheating hen who all sucked out all his money he got from his extremely boring job, and he finally got some peace for himself and was going to the local bar, which was on the other side of the road. He walked in the door, wings sagging, feathers catching on his claws. The bartender eyes him as he sits on a bar stool. “Chuck, how ya doin’? The missus doin’ good?” "Just give me the hardest stuff you got. I’m done." This caught the bartender by surprise. “Chuck, come on, don’t be sayin’ that. Just look to the future and you’ll be fine.” “What future?” Chuck replied in a huff. “My wife and chicks are so goddamn pestering sometimes, you know? But if I leave, they’ll all suffer, and I don’t want that either. Oh, God, Phil, I don’t know what to do.” “You know, you’ve got a good heart for a rooster your age,” Phil answered. "We need that in these parts. I’m tellin’ ya, there will be more than what’s happenin’ right now, ya know, life’s got all its gears turning for ya, and there’s just a bit slow right now. The gears haven’t been oiled in a while, but who’s the only one who can fix that?" Chuck knew the answer. "Me." Phil returned with his drink. "McClucken’s Whiskey, on the house." Chuck glanced at his glass. He held it up to the light. His face reflected in an aura around it, neither looking forward to the light and not backward, either. “No thanks, Phil,” Chuck sighed, "But thanks anyways." He went to get up out of his chair. Phil called as he walked out the door, "Just remember to oil the gears every now and then, eh?" Chuck’s comb flapped in a cool breeze brought in by the season. A bench was nearby, staring across to the other side. And he just sat there, sat there thinking. Cars blurred to a colorfully colorless nothingness as he thought in silence. He could see an open window in his mind, full of chickens: a sassy hen, two identical sportish chick; another, older than the two, and body bristling with blue comb-dye and the latest thing he watched online fresh on his Chickstagram page; finally, the first of the bunch, shy, bookish, with a secretly courageous soul. They all looked… worried, worried for the rooster who guided them, helped them grow, supported them… and all looking out of the window back at him. A single tear welled in Chuck’s eye. The chicken walked back across the road to his family, to his friends, and to the life he was content with.