Heart jokes

In Mia's world, where bottles and parrots meet, A whimsical symphony takes its seat.

With feathers ablaze, the parrots take flight, Their vibrant hues painting the day with delight.

Mia, a dreamer with a heart full of glee, Embraces the beauty for all to see.

Her bottles, like whispers of stories untold, Capture the magic that time cannot hold.

Each bottle, a vessel of dreams and desires, Unveiling the soul's deepest fires.

They dance in the sunlight, sparkle and gleam, A kaleidoscope of colors in Mia's dream.

Parrots, enchanting with melodies rare, Sing ballads of love, floating through the air.

Their voices, like echoes of nature's sweet call, Enchanting all hearts, big and small.

Mia, with reverence, sets the parrots free, To soar across oceans, to distant lands and seas.

In their freedom, they find their truest grace, A testament to love's boundless space.

And as Mia's bottles journey afar, They carry her dreams, like a guiding star.

Through mountains and valleys, they'll forever roam, In the hearts of dreamers, they'll always find home.

May our days be abundant, a dance of delight, May I navigate life with courage, taking flight. May our journey be a beauty, a blessing so sweet, May I celebrate friendships, where hearts and souls meet.

May our nights be bright, with laughter and cheer, May we live with love, eliminating every fear. May I grow in kindness, a serenade of grace, May our lives be a marvel, a splendid embrace.

If Stephen Hawking has a heart attack, do you take him to Halfords or A&E?

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.

Once a monkey lived in a jamun tree. His friend, a crocodile, came there to eat jamun everyday. The second day, he ate some jamun and left some for his wife. Soon, his wife said, "Why don't you kill this monkey?"

The crocodile was sad and then asked the monkey to come to his place. The monkey said, "What if I drown?" The crocodile said, "Jump on my back." The monkey jumped on his back. The crocodile soon said, "I am gonna kill you. My wife is sick and wants to eat your heart." The monkey said, "I left my heart on the jamun tree." Then the crocodile swam back to the jamun tree and the monkey jumped on the tree.

Lemme tell you a little story.

It’s night. You’re in your room, trying to sleep. But you keep hearing it—scratching. Soft at first. Like fingernails on wood. You tell yourself it’s rats, or the house settling. But it keeps going. Slow… then faster.

So finally, you get outta bed. You get on your hands and knees, put your ear to the floor. And you hear it. A voice. Whispers. Crying.

Your heart’s pounding. You grab a crowbar. You pry up the floorboards. One by one. Your sweat’s dripping into the dust. The noise gets louder.

And finally… you peel back the last plank.

And you see these eyes. Wide and terrified. And a pale little face staring up at you.

BOOOOOOO!!!!

It’s Anne Frank.

My grandma has the heart of a lion and a lifetime ban from the zoo.

Yo momma so stupid, when someone got cardiac arrest, she tried to put the person to court, and when the judge said "ORDER AT THE COURT," she thought it's a food court and ordered 20 Big Macs and got a heart attack.

I have a heart, alright. I just happen to see a mere hollow shell of one coming from you.

I'd tell a Luigi joke, but it would fall flat faster than the line on his victim's heart monitor.

What's the quickest way to get to a girl's heart?

What?

Chidori. :)

The first thing a man looks at in a woman, is her heart.

The fact that her breasts block the view is not her fault.

They say that "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach," but I find it a lot easier to go through the ribcage.

Joshua White loves blue, A simple truth, tried and true. In his pocket, only six, Yet each penny a valued fix.

With eyes that seek the azure skies, He dreams of places that mesmerize. A palette of blues, a symphony of hues, Whispering secrets only he can choose.

His heart beats to the rhythm of the sea, Where waves crash, wild and free. In sandy shores, he finds solace rare, A momentary escape from life's daily wear.

In cerulean fields, flowers dance, Their vibrant petals, a timeless romance. He wanders through meadows, devoid of strife, Seeking solace in nature's vibrant life.

Joshua White, a soul of gentle grace, Embracing the world at his own pace. Though his pockets hold a mere six, His spirit soars, never to be fixed.

For in the depths of his azure dreams, The richness of life's tapestry gleams. And with every breath, he finds anew, That love is boundless, ever true.

Are you the Twin Towers? Because you made my heart explode.

My boss had the heart of a child.

In a jar. On his desk.

Me playing a game...

What did God just stop? Are hearts cause we didn't kill each other.

Like if that was good.

Are you a sports car? Because you give my heart quite a rush!

The girl asks her boyfriend, "Are you jealous of my heart?"

He says, "No."

She says, "Because it's pumping in me and you're not."

You don't need brains to be a Boss.

When the body was first created, all the parts wanted to be Boss. The brain said, "I should be Boss because I control all of the body's responses and functions."

The feet said, "We should be Boss since we carry the brain about and get him to where he wants to go."

The hands said, "We should be the Boss because we do all the work and earn all the money."

Finally, the asshole spoke up. All the parts laughed at the idea of the asshole being the Boss. So, the asshole went on strike, blocked itself up and refused to work.

Within a short time, the eyes became crossed, the hands clenched, the feet twitched, the heart and lungs began to panic, and the brain fevered. Eventually, they all decided that the asshole should be the Boss, so the motion was passed. All the other parts did all the work while the Boss just sat and passed out the shit!

Moral Of The Story: You don't need a brain to be a Boss----any asshole will do.