Cross Jokes

Why did the pedo cross the road? To get to the pre-school on the other side.

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.

why did the hobo cross the road.

to get the rotten donut on the other side.

Chocolate rain Some stay dry and others feel the pain Chocolate rain A baby born will die before the sin Chocolate rain The school books say it can't be here again Chocolate rain The prisons make you wonder where it went Chocolate rain Build a tent and say the world is dry Chocolate rain Zoom the camera out and see the lie Chocolate rain Forecast to be falling yesterday Chocolate rain Only in the past is what they say Chocolate rain Raised your neighborhood insurance rates Chocolate rain Makes us happy 'livin in a gate Chocolate rain Made me cross the street the other day Chocolate rain Made you turn your head the other way Chocolate rain History quickly crashing through your veins Chocolate rain Using you to fall back down again Chocolate rain History quickly crashing through your veins Chocolate rain Using you to fall back down again Chocolate rain Seldom mentioned on the radio Chocolate rain It's the fear your leaders call control Chocolate rain Worse than swearing worse than calling names Chocolate rain Say it publicly and you're insane Chocolate rain No one wants to hear about it now Chocolate rain Wish real hard it goes away somehow Chocolate rain Makes the best of friends begin to fight Chocolate rain But did they know each other in the light? Chocolate rain Every February washed away Chocolate rain Stays behind as colors celebrate Chocolate rain The same crime has a higher price to pay Chocolate rain The judge and jury swear it's not the face Chocolate rain History quickly crashing through your veins Chocolate rain Using you to fall back down again Chocolate rain History quickly crashing through your veins Chocolate rain Using you to fall back down again Chocolate rain Dirty secrets of economy Chocolate rain Turns that body into GDP Chocolate rain The bell curve blames the baby's DNA Chocolate rain But test scores are how much the parents make Chocolate rain Flippin' cars in France the other night Chocolate rain Cleans the sewers out beneath Mumbai Chocolate rain 'Cross the world and back it's all the same Chocolate rain Angels cry and shake their heads in shame Chocolate rain Lifts the ark of paradise in sin Chocolate rain Which part do you think you're livin' in? Chocolate rain More than marchin', more than passing law Chocolate rain Remake how we got to where we are Chocolate rain History quickly crashing through your veins Chocolate rain Using you to fall back down again Chocolate rain History quickly crashing through your veins Chocolate rain Using you to fall back down again

In the beginning of the 20th century, a young girl called Edit left her home country of Sweden, and crossed the Ocean to make a new life in America. Unfortunately, it did not go all that well, and she found herself soon homeless, begging for food or money to survive.

She used to occupy a street next to a theater; not because it meant hefty handouts, but because it was a place where no other beggars or police bothered her; every night, a new crowd came to see a show, and the cute young girl found just enough mercy to survive. In fact, she did so well, that she decided to afford herself a small piece of cake every tuesday - just to keep her spirits up.

One tuesday, she could not get a break. Looked like she will go without cake this week. Then, a strange looking gentleman stopped near her. He soon heard her story, and decided to share his fortune.

Gentleman: I work as a magician in the touring show - today we performed here. Some nights, our guests want to gamble with us afterwards, and I make sure to bring home more than I came with. I try to keep it moderate - but today, this obnoxious drunk was loaded, so I emptied his pockets. Here, take this precious coin.

There's a man crawling through the desert. He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that'll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means you're in trouble - usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, and takes the bottle.

“BETTER NATE THAN LEVER!!!”