Frankenstein jokes
When my Uncle Frank died, he wanted his cremations to be buried in his favorite beer mug.
His last wish was to be Frank in Stein.
We all know Albert Einstein was a genius, but his brother Frank was a monster.
What's the difference between you and Frankenstein?
He is not ugly like you; plus, he has a wife.
Fritz Cheng was asked to write three articles on the subject. He went to his grandmother and advised her: "Question: Kill people! I am sorry, Mr. Fritz, I am looking for his brother—what do you suggest?"
Brother: "I'm Superman. I am Superman!"
Fritz remembers entering the room. That's Alfredo's question in front of the TV: "Do you have any advice?"
Fritz tells a story from his school days. "Remember our words?" said Professor Fleck. "An artist? Is that true? Frison, who are you?"
"I am Superman. I'm Superman," he said. "I hope to meet the president."
Papyrus: You are so lazy, Sans!
Sans: Call me what you want. I got THICK SKIN!
Papyrus: Another bad joke and I'm finished with him!!
Frisk: HAHAHA
Papyrus: We are monsters. The awfulest kind!
Sans: To mess with us takes a lot of SPINE!!!
What do you get when you cross a cow with a fish?
A genetically unstable animal that is impossible and would die instantly upon existing. If it could live, it would be a deformed, parasitic tumor that undulates through people.
Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A man with a spirit untamed, untold. With eyes that pierce through the darkest night, He walks a path that's far from light.
His steps are loud, his presence strong, A force of nature, where he belongs. Through the chaos, he finds his way, Leaving footprints that never fade.
A rebel soul, unafraid to speak, His words drip with passion, so unique. He dances with danger, embraces the unknown, Challenging limits, into the wild he's thrown.
No rules can bind him, no walls can contain, Frank Bulgin sets fire to the mundane. He paints the sky with vibrant hues, A kaleidoscope of dreams he pursues.
In his mind, a symphony of thoughts, An artist's palette, where inspiration is sought. He weaves words like a masterful bard, Creating tapestries that leave us marred.
With each verse, he unravels his soul, Unveiling the depths that make him whole. His poetry, a window to his essence, A glimpse into a world of fearless presence.
Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A maverick, a legend yet to be told. His spirit roams, forever untamed, A beacon of courage, never to be tamed.
What was Frankenstein's second job? -- He was a bodybuilder.
Your hairline is so far back you look like Frankenstein.