Adopted kid
Hey Alex what are you doing?
Alex
Nothing just playing my game anyways you know you can call me dad.
Adopted kid
OK dad Alex
Alex
OH COME ON my game I’m winning LETS GO
Adopted kid
I’m so glad I have a mom
This joke includes potentially sensitive content.
A man with a gun and a sword walks into a bar, sees a girl, and falls in love with her. Man: Hey, you are one beautiful girl. Will You be my girlfriend? Girl: No, because you have a gun and a sword. Man: But I am already in love with you. And then the man leaves to get the girl flowers and candy. The girl is glad that the has gone, until thirty minutes later, when he shows up again. Man: Here are some flowers for you, beautiful girl. And the girl throws the flowers in his face, and then everyone in the bar laughs, even the bartender. Man: And here is some candy. And the girl throws the candy in his face, and everyone in the bar laughs again, and some teenagers walking down the street see it as well, and then they start laughing too. One of the teenagers says "Hahaha, that is so funny. Seeing a man give a girl candy, and the girl throwing it in his face to show him that she hates him." Girl: I hate you, ugly man! Man: Bartender, can I get some candy for my girl? The bartender laughs when he hears that, and then he says "Are you crazy? We don't serve-" And then the man shoots the bartender with his gun, and stabs him with his sword. An old man walking down the street can't believe what he just saw. So he calls the police to arrest the man who killed the bartender. 999 Service Guy: 999, what's your emergency? Old man: I just walked past a bar, and I saw a man shoot and stab the bartender. Can you please get the police to arrest him? Tell them he is the man with a gun and a sword I his bag. 999 Service Guy: Okay, no worries. 1 Hour later, the first man tries to dance the tango with the girl, and the girl kicks him in the leg, and then he tries to kiss her, and she punches him in the face. Guy sitting at a table in the bar: That man is crazy. Trying to kiss a girl who hates him. And the police show up. First Policeman: Which man has a gun and a sword in his bag? The girl points to the man and says "This man." Second Policeman: Let's arrest him. Man: No, wait! I can explain. Third Policeman: Get in the back of the car. When the police get to the Police Station with the man, the first policeman says "You will stay in prison for 10 years." One week later, the man breaks the bars and escapes prison. The police see him and run after him. Third Policeman: Come back here! The man doesn't listen, and he keeps running. So the police shoot him and he dies. And instead of saying rest in peace on his gravestone, it says rest in pieces.
This joke includes potentially sensitive content.
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
