End

End Jokes

In pixels and polygons, a virtual realm unfolds, A battleground where warriors gather, young and old. A game of wits and strategy, a dance of skill and might, Behold the phenomenon, the world of Fortnite.

What is Fortnite, you ask, this digital sensation? A realm where dreams are forged, in endless animation. A world of endless possibilities, where heroes rise and fall, A tapestry of triumph, where victory calls.

From humble beginnings, a storm begins to brew, A hundred souls drop down, with dreams anew. An island vast and varied, a landscape to explore, From verdant meadows to urban cities, the battles roar.

With pickaxe in hand, we gather resources with haste, Wood, metal, and stone, the foundation of our base. We build and we craft, constructing our fort, A fortress of defense, where enemies are fought.

The storm looms ever closer, a force we can't deny, Pushing us closer together, as time quickly flies. We strategize and plan, our tactics ever shifting, In this ever-shrinking world, our spirits uplifting.

Weapons and loot, scattered throughout the land, We arm ourselves with firepower, take our final stand. Shotguns, rifles, explosives, and more, In this game of survival, we even the score.

But Fortnite is more than just a battle royale, A canvas for creativity, where imaginations set sail. From creative mode to party royale, a world of endless fun, With friends and strangers, united as one.

Yet amidst the chaos, let's not forget, Fortnite is but a game, a virtual vignette. For beyond the pixels and the storms that rage, Lies a world that beckons, beyond the digital stage.

So let us embrace the joy that Fortnite brings, A tapestry of moments, where victory sings. For in this realm of pixels and dreams, Fortnite shines bright, a testament it seems.

So gather your friends, embark on this quest, In the realm of Fortnite, put your skills to the test. For in the end, it's not just about the game we play, But the bonds we form, as we dance and slay.

As I’m lying down on the table for a radiation treatment, a small angel lands on one shoulder, a tiny devil on the other shoulder. And then the mind game begins:

Angel: This won’t last long. You are perfectly lined up. The treatment only lasts a few mins. Remember, stay absolutely still.

Devil: Did she just twitch?

A: No. She didn’t twitch.

D: I think I saw her finger twitch.

A: Well, even if it did, it’s her thigh the techs are aiming at.

D: She wants to scratch her face.

A: Stop it! She can handle staying still a few minutes.

D: But her cheek has an itchy spot.

A: She can just let it itch. She doesn’t need to scratch every itch. She will just have to think about something else.

D: Wow...that cheek is really itchy...

A: Think about: Flowers. Acrylic painting. Did the trash get picked up this morning? Her grandson Oliver’s smile...

D: How about a song?

A: Good idea!

D: How about... “Never going to give you up. Never going to let you down....”🎶

A: OMG! You just Rick-rolled her! She’s in the middle of a treatment! You know that’s the only part she knows!

D: That’s okay. She’ll just repeat the words she knows over and over and over and....

A: Don’t be so mean!

D: “Never going to give you up...🎶”

A: Stop it!

D: Her toe! Her big toe! Did you see that? She just twitched it!

A: No, she didn’t.

D: I bet it screwed up the test and they have to start over....

A: She didn’t screw anything up!

D: She totally screwed the test up and they were more than halfway done. If they start over at the beginning, she will get too much radiation, and they will end up slicing her whole leg off!

A: That’s not how it works...

D: Or they just stop all together and she only gets a partial treatment and her tumor won’t get enough radiation.

A: They know what they are doing!

D: ...And it won’t shrink the tumor and the whole thing fails. And the doctor will have to amputate her leg.

A: No! No! No! That’s not how any of this...

D: ...And when they amputate, it will be at the hip and not below the knee because the tumor is in her thigh.

A: Stop this right now!!

D: “Never going to give you up....🎶”

A: Stop!

D: “...never going let you down....🎶”

A: I’m not going to let you...

D: “Never going to give you up...🎶” .

Techs: Okay. That’s it, Tammi! We are finished! How are you doing?

Tammi: ...Oh, I’m fine.....

Peaches-REMAKE-By-Justin Beiber and watersharky Music Productions- I got my peaches out in Georgia (oh, yeah, shit) I get my weed from California (that's that shit) I took my chick up to the North, yeah (badass bitch) I get my light right from the source, yeah (yeah, that's it) And I see you (oh), the way I breathe you in (in), it's the texture of your skin I wanna wrap my arms around you, baby, never let you go, oh And I say, oh, there's nothing like your touch It's the way you lift me up, yeah And I'll be right here with you 'til the end I got my peaches out in Georgia (oh, yeah, shit) I get my weed from California (that's that shit) I took my chick up to the North, yeah (badass bitch) I get my light right from the source, yeah (yeah, that's it) You ain't sure yet, but I'm for ya All I could want, all I can wish for Nights alone that we miss more And days we save as souvenirs There's no time, I wanna make more time And give you my whole life I left my girl, I'm in Mallorca Hate to leave her, call it torture Remember when I couldn't hold her Left her baggage for Rimowa I got my peaches out in Georgia (oh, yeah, shit) I get my weed from California (that's that shit) I took my chick up to the North, yeah (badass bitch) I get my light right from the source, yeah (yeah, that's it) I get the feeling, so I'm sure (sure) Hand in my hand because I'm yours I can't, I can't pretend, I can't ignore you're right for me Don't think you wanna know just where I've been, oh Done being distracted The one I need is right in my arms (oh) Your kisses taste the sweetest with mine And I'll be right here with you 'til end of time I got my peaches out in Georgia (oh, yeah, shit) I get my weed from California (that's that shit) I took my chick up to the North, yeah (badass bitch) I get my light right from the source, yeah (yeah, that's it) I got my peaches out in Georgia (oh, yeah, shit) I get my weed from California (that's that shit) I took my chick up to the North, yeah (badass bitch) (I get my light right from the source, yeah, yeah) I got my peaches out in Georgia (oh, yeah, shit) I get my weed from California (that's that shit) I took my chick up to the North, yeah (badass bitch) I get my light right from the source, yeah (yeah, that's it) I got my peaches out in Georgia (oh, yeah, shit) I get my weed from California (that's that shit) I took my chick up to the North, yeah (badass bitch) I get my light right from the source, yeah (yeah, that's it)

Watersharky Music Productions Presents Memories by Conan Gray One, two It's been a couple months That's just about enough time For me to stop crying when I look at all the pictures Now I kinda smile, I haven't felt that in a while It's late, I hear the door Bell ringing and it's pouring I open up that door, see your brown eyes at the entrance You just wanna talk and I can't turn away a wet dog But please don't ruin this for me Please don't make it harder than it already is I'm trying to get over this I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized But you're not letting me do that, 'cause tonight You're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say "I wish that you would stay in my memories" In my memories, stay in my memories Now I can't say goodbye if you stay here the whole night You see, it's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning Over and over again I promise that the ending always stays the same So there's no good reason in make believing that we could ever exist again I can't be your friend, can't be your lover Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love With somebody other than me I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized But you're not letting me do that, 'cause tonight You're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say "I wish that you would stay in my memories" In my memories, stay in my memories Since you came I guess I'll let you stay For as long as it takes To grab your books and your coat And that one good cologne That you bought when we were fighting 'Cause it's still on my clothes, everything that I own And it makes me feel like dying I was barely just surviving I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized But you're not letting me do that, 'cause tonight You're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say "I wish that you would stay in my memories" In my memories, stay in my memories

So one time this really rich guy’s son’s birthday was coming up. So he asks his son what he wants. So the son says “can i have pink ping pong balls.” The father asks why and his son stays silent. The dad decides to get it for him. The dad doesn’t see the son ever do anything with them. A year later the dad asked him what he wants the son then says “can I have 10000 pink ping pong balls”. The dad then responds with “son why, I gave you some last year and this whole year you did not play with them.” The son, yet again stays silent. The Dad was reluctant to do it but did it anyways. Now a few years later the son is now 20 and his rich dad and him have not seen each other in a while. So the dad decides to celebrate his sons birthday. He asks his son once again what he wants and his son says “can I have 10000 pink ping pong balls.” His dad screams “ SON WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THESE BALLS!!! I NEVER SEE YOU WITH THEM AND YET YOU STILL WANT MORE. WHAT THE HELL!!!” The son yet again stays silent. The dad, though a little pissed, decides to buy As much of the pink ping pong balls that he sees and gives it to his son. The son is happy, but does not do anything. Now after a while the sones about 30, and he and the father are more distant than ever. The father gets a call from a hospital telling him that his son could die from a disease that only 2 people survived. So the father goes there and starts crying and grieving. Then he asks his son what he would like before he dies. The son then says “can you buy me all of the factory’s that produce pink ping pong balls.” His dad doesn’t question because he is to sad to and buys him the only factory that produces pink ping pong balls. Then the doctors put him in a wheelchair and follow the dad and they take him to one of pink ping pong ball factory’s and the dad says “okay son I fulfilled what you wanted. But what have you done and what do you plan to do with all of these pink ping pong balls .” The son ,ignoring the question says “ this is magnificent. My final wish is that I stay here overnight.” So the doctors and the father decide to and everyone goes home to sleep. The next day, everyone returned to the factory to find all the pink ping pong balls gone and the son. The father was sad but a little angry and decided to search his whole house to find pink ping pong balls but doesn’t find any and they search the whole factory for the son and the balls. And soon they end up searching the whole earth and never found him.

btw friend here also wants to do suicide

friend:why did i cross the road??? me:to get to the other side. friend:true!

friend:hey lets go hang out at the forest today! me:ok *grabs ropes for the both of us and rushes outside bc this is a lucky day* friend:hey atleast we did it!

friend:whats the best thing about me? me:you will eventually end. friend:hmmmmmm . . . true!

friend:what historical time influenced you the most? me:the great depression

if i could be an object id be glass because im see through and i can shatter with the minimum difficulty immediately!

my parents sometimes say im their sunshine! . . . because im painful if you look at me.

teacher:what does km/s mean? me+like almost all of the class:*in unison* it means kill myself but misspelled

friend:whats the best way to end a game? me:with death friend: . . . hmmm now that you think about it yeah! thats the best way!

when your about to jump down a cliff but you realize that you cant litter there

google says that your about 75% water but im make of 101% depression 101% anxiety 101% suicidal 101% stress

brain be like will_to_live.exe, happiness.exe, and many more others not found also you have now got crippling_depression.exe, anxiety.exe, suicide_thoughts.exe, suicide_attempts, and stressful_life.exe so so so much many more

how do you keep weeds away? just put a bucket of crippling depression and suicidal thought and attempts in the soil and then they just kill themselves. problem solved.

when you take antidepressants but they dont work it will just make you more depressed and thats a fact

a bored depressed suicidal person:*sees a dying person* dying person:p-l-pls c-c-c-call m-me a-an amb-b-bulancccee *wheeze* *dies* bored depressed suicidal person:hmmmm ur an ambulance dying person:*manages to get back up* bored depressed suicidal person:oooooohh goddddd dying person:*in a demonic tone* BUT NOT FOR ME~

roses are red inside im dead i have crippling depression some one pls shoot my head

when you finally open up to a person who you think will care and understand but it turns out that they dont you:*panickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanicking*

the only time you should lift your spirits up is when your gonna hang yourself

a made up story starting now so i went to school as usual theres a school shooting all the depressed suicidal people:*crave death* *walks up to shooter* all say KILL ME a made up story starting ending

in this one the friend isnt suicidal friend:wanna play a game? me:life wait no a game has a meaning friend: . . . *crickets* friend:calls suicide hotline me:wait no!!!!!

me:*has crippling depression* *asks mom why i was born* mom:hmmm i think i was drunk and on a lotta drugs me:hmmm tysm *gets the rope* mom:*making hanging puns* me:*hurries to the trash truck*

me:at this point ive lived about a decade depressed and suicidal that i dont struggle with it now, im good at it and its all normal

hope you enjoyed

The moment came. The starter dropped his red flag. "They're away!"

Not for one second did Agba need to hunt for Lath in that flying stream of horseflesh. He did not even look for the scarlet and white stripes of the jockey's body-coat. His eyes were fixed on the littlest horse, the littlest horse that got away to a bad start!

The field was far out in front. The big horses were whipping down the steep slope to Devil's Dyke, skimming along the running gap, leaping up the opposite bank and across a long flat stretch. They were beginning to bunch, making narrow gaps. Lath was coming up from behind. He began filling in the gaps. He went through them. He was a blob of watercolor, trickling along the green turf between the other colors.

For a brief second the horses were hidden by a clump of hawthorn trees. Agba's knees tightened. He felt Sham quiver beneath him, saw white flecks of sweat come out on his neck. It was well the grooms were there to hold them both!

The horses were coming around the trees now. The golden blob was still flowing between the other colors. It was flowing beyond them, flowing free!

In full stride, Lath was galloping down the dip and up the rise to the ending post. He was flying past it, leaving the "lusty" horses behind.

"The little horse wins!"

"Lath, an easy winner!"

"Lath, son of Godolphin Arabian, wins!"

People of all ages and all ranks clapped their hands and cheered in wild notes of triumph.

Agba never knew how he and Sham reached the royal stand. But suddenly, there they were. And the Earl of Godolphin was there, too.

"I am pleased to give," Queen Caroline was saying in her sincere, straightforward manner, "I am pleased to give and bestow upon the Earl of Godolphin, the Queen's Plate."

Everyone could see it was not a plate that she held in her hands at all. It was a purse. But only Agba and the Earl knew how much that purse would mean to the future of the horse in England. The Earl looked right between the plumes in the Queen's bonnet and found Agba's eyes for an instant. Then he fell to his knees and kissed the Queen's hand.

A hush fell over the heath. The Queen's words pinged sharp and clear, like the pearls that suddenly broke from her necklace and fell upon the floor of the stand. No one stooped to recover them, for the Queen was speaking.

"And what," she asked, as she fixed one of her own purple plumes in Sham's headstall, "what is the pedigree of this proud sire of three winning horses?"

Agba leaned forward in his saddle.

There was a pause while the Earl found the right words. "Your Majesty," he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "his pedigree has been...has been lost. But perhaps it was so intended. His pedigree is written in his sons."

How the country people cheered! An unknown stallion wearing the royal purple! It was a fairy tale come true.

The princesses clapped their hands, too. Even the King seemed pleased. He puffed out his chest and nodded to the Queen that the answer was good.

Agba swallowed. He felt a tear begin to trickle down his cheek. Quickly, before anyone noticed, he raised his hand to brush it away. His hand stopped. Why, he was growing a beard! He was a man! Suddenly his mind flew back to Morocco. My name is Agba. Ba means father. I will be a father to you, Sham, and when I am grown I will ride you before the multitudes. And they will bow before you, and you will be King of the Wind. I promise it.

He had kept his word!

For the first time in his life, he was glad he could not talk. Words would have spoiled everything. They were shells that cracked and blew away in the wind. He and Sham were alike. That was why they understood each other so deeply.

The Godolphin Arabian stood very still, his regal head lifted. An east wind was rising. He stretched out his nostrils to gather in the scent. It was laden with the fragrance of wind-flowers. Of what was he thinking? Was he re-running the race of Lath? Was he rejoicing in the royal purple? Was he drawing a wood cart in the streets of Paris? Or just winging across the grassy downs in

A politician dies So a politician dies and ends up standing in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name.

"So, you're a politician..." "Well, yes, is that a problem?" "Oh no, no problem. But we've recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately, you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that, however, you're free to choose where you want to spend eternity!"

"Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell??" says the politician. "Them's the rules," Says St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, the guy disappears...

And awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he's in Hell. Cautiously, he listens for the screams, sniffs the air for brimstone, and finds... Nothing. Just the smell of, is that fabric softener? And cut grass, this can't be, right?

"Open your eyes!" says a voice. "C'mon, wakey, we've only got 24 hours!". Nervously, he uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he's in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite... And there's a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini. "Who are you??" The politician asks. "Well, I'm Satan!" says the man, handing him the drink and helping him to his feet. "Welcome to Hell!" "Wait, this is Hell? But... Where are all the pain and suffering?" he asks. Satan throws him a wink. "Oh, we've been a bit misrepresented over the years, it's a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is, of course, free, as is the room service, there are extra towels next to the hot tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It's a beautiful day, and if you'd care to look outside..." Slightly stunned by the opulent surroundings, the man wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun is glowing, looks far down, and sees a group of people cheering and waving at him from a golf course. "It's one of 5 pro-level courses on-site, and there's another 6 just a few minutes drive out past the beach and harbor!" says Satan, answering his unasked question. So they head down in the lift and walk out through the glittering lobby where everyone waves and welcomes the man, as Satan signs autographs and cheerily talks shop with the laughing staff. And as he walks out, he sees the group on the golf course is made up of every one of his old friends, people he's admired for years but never met or worked with, and people whose work he's admired but died long before his career started. And out of the middle of this group walks his wife, with a massive smile and the body she had when she was 20, who throws her arms around him and plants a delicate kiss on his cheek. Everyone cheers and applauds, and as they slap him on the back and trade jokes, his worst enemy arrives, as a 2-foot-tall goblin-esque caddy. He spends the day in the bright sunshine on the course, having the time of his life laughing at jokes and carrying on important discussions, putting the world to rights with his friends while holding his delighted wife next to him as she gazes lovingly at him. Later, they return to the hotel for dinner and have an enormous meal, perfectly cooked, which descends into a food fight when someone accidentally throws a bread roll at the next table (where Gandhi is having a game of truth-or-dare with Marylin Monroe). As everyone is falling about laughing and flinging breadsticks at each other, his wife whispers in his ear... And they return to their penthouse suite and spend the rest of the night making love as they did on their honeymoon. After 6 hours of intense passion, the man falls deep into the 100% Egyptian cotton pillows and falls into a deep and happy sleep...

And is woken up by St Peter. "So, that was Hell. Wasn't what you were expecting, I bet?" "No sir!" says the man. "So then," says St Peter "you can make your choice. It's Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on". "Well... I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I'd prefer Hell," says the politician. "Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!" Says St Peter, and clicks his fingers again.

The man wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulfurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor wire in the other. "What's this??" He cries. "Where's the hotel?? Where's my wife??? Where's the minibar, the golf courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks, and the sunshine???"

"Ah", says Satan. "You see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted..."

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!!!”