Even jokes

Your hairline so bad even God says, "Aaaaahhhh!"

Jack opened his drying eyes, awoken by a piercing ray of sunlight shining through crooked blinds. A gentle smell wafted in from the corner of what his temporarily blinded eyes knew to be a dilapidated kitchen. It was the one good thing about his life, that smell. He closed his eyes once more and awaited his call.

“Jacky, breakfast time!” beckoned that oh-so-familiar girlish voice. “Oh, silly me, the handcuffs!”

The same footsteps he always heard, the only ones, tapped along the tile floor as each one of Jack’s limbs were freed from the cold metal that imprisoned them. He’d learned not to resist it, and the acceptance was blissful.

Jack slowly dragged himself to the kitchen table, still adjusting his eyes to the light. Moments later, a bowl was slid over to him by a hand he’d become all too familiar with. Oatmeal with little bits of dried apple mixed in. Even after four years, he still liked it.

“Thank you, Randy,” Jack muttered.

“Jill,” said the girl’s voice across from him. The girl’s voice vanished.

“You call me Randy when I’m having my way with you, boy. Understood?” said the balding, sweat-stained man from whom Jill’s voice came.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now hurry up and eat your food. I want to have some more fun before you expire.”

Jack ate obediently, but deep down he grew concerned. Expired? What could Randy mean by...expired?

He thought back to the day everything went wrong. The day he was deceived. His 14th birthday.

Four years...already? Was Jack really about to be an adult? Then expired means...

Jack stood up quickly, hitting his knees on the table with a thud.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Which one?”

“The one you don’t like to watch,” Jack replied. Randy waved him away dismissively.

Jack paced around the small shack searching for the bathroom door. He passed the heavily locked front door, each lock a memento of his past escape attempts. Finally, he entered the bathroom. No lock, he had to be fast.

Jack searched desperately around the room for anything he could use. If this was his last round before Randy was through with him, it might be his only chance to escape. He opened drawers, scrounged through cupboards, scoured every inch of the floor, but found a small mirror.

“Almost done, Jacky?” called the voice of Jill. “Don’t keep daddy waiting.” grumbled Randy.

Startled, Jack lost his grip on the mirror. Jack froze the second it fell to the floor and shattered.

“Shit...shit!” he whispered sharply, trying to brush the mess away. In doing so, he found a shard large enough to be held. “This’ll have to do...”

Jack slid the shard in his pocket and returned to the living room he had woken up in. The same old deflated mattress was still there, iron bars and all. Randy lay sprawled across it, a pink lace bra covering his hairy chest, matching panties withholding his dense, greasy bush. His waist had grown so fat they hardly fit, until...

SNAP!

The panties seemed to vanish as the waistband broke, springing his embarrassing, already erect penis from side to side.

“Oopsies,” he cooed.

Jack took off his clothes, as was the ritual, and laid them at the foot of the mattress. His sore knees pressed into the stained fabric while he inched closer to Randy’s pulsating cock. Licking his lips, Jack bent down and took the member into his mouth. Randy groaned with pleasure as Jack’s tongue swirled around his tip, diving into the lining of his foreskin to gather what curds of smegma were present. Jack’s nausea at this had vanished long ago, he was merely going through the motions before enacting his plan.

As he throated Randy’s dick over and over again, the man who had trapped Jack for so long began to thrust upward into his mouth, lightly scratching his face with the overgrown pubes that lined the base of his cock. Jack wiggled his tongue in Randy’s urethra, just how he liked it. Anything to get this over with quicker.

“Ungh, fuck...don’t stop Jack, you dirty little whore...I’m so close,” Randy moaned.

Jack sucked harder and harder, faster and faster, all while his hand slowly inched toward the makeshift blade in his pants behind him. With the weapon in hand, Jack gave it everything he had.

“MMMPH FUCK YES, CMON BABY GIVE IT TO ME! OH JACK, OH, OH FUCK, I’M G-GONNA CUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!” screamed Randy, closing his eyes tightly.

He threw his head back and Jack took his chance. With one fell swoop of the glass shard, he sliced Randy’s dick clean off, spitting the half of it still in his mouth out. Jack lunged at the injured Randy, glass still in hand.

“AAARRGGHHHHHH, FUCK! HAAH...FUCK!” Randy cried, semen oozing out of his bloody stump of a penis. He opened his eyes just as Jack thrust the blade straight into his right one, then his left. Left weak from the orgasm, Randy could hardly fight back.

(To be continued in comments)

Don't tell me to accept trannies for who they are when they can't even accept themselves for who they are.

Your hairline's so far back, even Rosa Parks refused to sit in the back; it went all the way there itself.

There are some questionable candies out there, such as:

"All I want is a good Blow Pop."

"I don’t even want to know where that Butterfinger has been."

"If you do, you’ll probably end up with tasting the rainbow."

"Nobody wants to bite into an O’Henry."

"Or adopt Three Musketeers."

"Or even end up with a Sour Patch."

Yo mama is so fat that even CaseOh couldn't bang her.

Shortly after the hole was finished, everyone in the forest was looking for long grass to fill the hole. The upper layer covered it with short grass and scattered some grass around the hole so it didn't seem as conspicuous. The next evening, the villagers hid in their houses and turned off the lights and waited inside, while one of the farmers stood outside and, if possible, unobtrusively skimped on a cart.

Around midnight, the Headless Rider appeared with his horse in the village. He saw the seemingly single peasant scooping his hay and rode towards him. He was about to swing his axe, and while he was doing so, he overlooked the slightly more scattered grass near the farmer – and thus fell into the trap. He clumsily slumped into the prefabricated hole together with his horse and now lay there helplessly inside, together with his horse, which swayed in panic as the rider's axe was stuck in its back.

When the villagers heard this, they all stormed out of the houses to surround the hole. They saw the Headless Rider, and when he noticed all the villagers around him, he cursed: “Gaaah! You stupid villagers caught me! I can't do much down here. I give up.” The villagers took his axe away from him. Now they only needed a just punishment for the rider.

One of the villagers shouted: “We should tie him to a rope and hang him! He tried to kill us all and plagued us for a long time. So we should kill him and let him suffer for a long time!” The other villagers agreed with him. So they tied a thick rope to a branch of a large tree that stood in the village garden. The villagers took the Headless Rider out of the hole and dragged him to the rope. As they were about to hang the rope around his neck, they noticed that something didn't fit in their plan to hang the Headless Rider. Then the Headless Rider cried out: “You stupid mortals, I have no head at all! Why are you trying to hang me?”

A burglar breaks into the home of a weapons engineer. He wants to steal some of his weapons from his strictly secured chamber. When he breaks in through the window to go into his weapons cellar, he realizes that the inventor is at home and heard him from upstairs.

The burglar shouts, "Hands up, there is no escape!" The engineer shouts, "What do you want from me?" The thief answers impatiently, "Well, what do you think? I know what you're hiding here. Get me entry to your armory, right away!" "Never in my life will I do that!" The burglar pulls out his pistol, "Either you let me in, or you go for it!"

"Well, I'll give up, I'll give you my guns. Please don't shoot me." The burglar grins gleefully, "Thank you." "I even have a gun here that I've been working on lately. You can have it." The burglar then thinks and grunts, "Okay, before you open up, you'll show me this first!"

The inventor says, "It's shooting plasma. You can test it on one of my practice goals that I've made while I'm unlocking," and points to a side room where various dummies with targets are set up. The burglar walks into the room with the targets, focuses on the red dot in the middle of the disc, and pushes off. But the gun does not fire plasma or at the target. Instead, the gun fires a bullet at the burglar. This causes him to bleed to the ground.

The engineer behind him began to laugh, "Hahaha! I knew you were falling for it! This is not a plasma gun at all; this is my latest invention, especially for burglars like you: the backward-shooting pistol."

Your hairline is so far back, even the Flintstones knew of it.

Cheer for fun on the telephone and singing, "We are family!" Even then, your dad, really, he's fat, just like your dad. And your mom's fat ass, b**** ass, looking like an Oompa Loompa self, looking like an ugly.

What has four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?

A kitchen chair! Your momma sits in it for lunch, and your dad only manages to reattach one of the two legs that broke off by evening.

Donald Trump is to white Americans as O.J. Simpson is to black Americans. They will never choose to convict these people even if they murdered or raped.

Why do teenage girls hang out in odd-numbered groups?

Because they can't even.

A teenage boy decides to go see a hooker for the first time and asks his experienced uncle for some tips.

"Uncle, what should I do about the hooker name? Should I ask her real name or should I come up with a name for her myself?"

"Kid, I've been fucking hookers for 20 years and I didn't even know they had names."

I’d pound your mom so fast, even Sonic would get jealous!

This bitch got mad at me because I couldn’t last four strokes. What the fuck are you mad at me for? My grandpa didn’t even survive one.

This bitch got mad at me because I couldn’t last four strokes. My grandpa didn’t even survive one.

I hate how politically correct the world is these days, you can't even say "black paint."

You have to say, "Leroy, please paint that wall!"

Your teeth are so out of line, even James Charles is straighter than them.

Like if you like porn.

My mother was suffering from menstrual pain. So I fucked her for 7 hours to ease her pain. I continued to do so for the next 6 days. Even after fucking her 51 times during her 7-day period, I fucked her 5-6 times a day for the next three months and stopped her period for 9 months! Only her son can understand and ease the pain of a mother.