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Chain

Chain jokes

A black dude hits up a trap house for some crack and Hennessy, flashing his grill and boasting 'bout his gangsta life. The dealer snarls, "Pay up, fool. Or face the pipe!" He shrugs, "I'm broke, n***a." Suddenly, the dealer's ripped enforcer yanks him down, cuffs his hands with zip ties, shoves a vibrating dildo gag down his throat, slaps his ass red with a spiked paddle, then rams his throbbing monster cock into that tight hole, pounding savagely while choking him with a chain collar, flooding his guts with hot cum as he moans, "That's your high, bitch. Addicted yet?"

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    • A black n***a crashes a neighborhood barbecue, bragging about his 'hood credentials' while hogging all the ribs and collard greens. The host calls him out, 'Yo, pay up or get out. Ain't no freebies here.' He laughs it off, 'Man, I run this block!' But the host's burly brother, who's been grilling the whole time, snarls, 'Wrong, fool. Time to settle the score.' He pins him against the picnic table, wraps a chain leash around his neck from the dog run, edges him with a vibrating basting brush slathered in hot sauce, and then plows his ass deep and hard, grunting, 'Now you're the main course, spicier than the jerk chicken!'

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    • What do you call it when Panera Bread commits genocide?

    Panera bloodshed.

    What’s the difference between a Black person and snow tires?

    Snow tires still work after you take the chains off.

    In the realm of words, I shall embark, To craft a verse, both bold and stark, Thomas Bulgin, a name that ignites, A tale of length and moist delights.

    Free from the chains of structured rhyme, I wander through this realm, sublime, Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so strange, Evoking thoughts that rearrange.

    Long, it stretches, like a winding road, Leading us to depths, yet to be bestowed, In syllables, it dances and it plays, A journey we embark, in myriad ways.

    Moist, a word that teems with life, A touch of nature, amidst the strife, It whispers of raindrops on tender leaves, Of dew-kissed petals and gentle heaves.

    Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so surreal, Unleashing emotions, that time cannot seal, In this short verse, I strive to convey, A glimpse of what these words might say.

    So let us ponder, the mystery untold, Of Thomas Bulgin, both long and bold, For in the realm of poetry's sweet embrace, Even the unusual finds its rightful place.

    I saw a black man riding a brand new bike, so I went home to check my garage. It’s all good because I still saw mine still chained to the floor begging for food.

    German XP farms: Train carrying chained guys.

    American XP farms: Walking up to a school with a gun.

    African XP farms: Cotton field.

    I might slide up to your block with intelligence. I'm a genius with a glock. There's some relevance. Took his chain, took his rocks. Took his sediments. There's no cap inside my speech. No impediments.

    Putting numbers on the board, I use my calculator. Put a opp below the floor, he's a denominator. E = mc2, you didn't notice that? Had the shot, but he's too scared. Why didn't he buss it back?

    Credit to my boy tippecanoe3 for this joke.

    What do you call it when Panera isn’t hungry?

    Panera fed.

    Credit to RogueRobot for this one:

    What does Panera sleep in?

    Panera bed.