Hi Friend Jokes

Thomas Montgomery would eat his fillet of fish in bed every night. He had fillet of fish bedding and everything. His roommates always asked him, why are you eating your fillet of fish in bed. He wouldn't reply. His family took him to the best psychologist in the field. Thomas continued emptying his bank account on fillet of fish to eat in bed. His friend said one day , took a picture of Thomas and told him to say cheese. They laughed and went there separate ways. Then in bed that night , Thomas kept on thinking to himself I never said cheese before someone snapt my picture. He repeated it again. The next day he thanked his friend fillet in him feel better.

Why did the chicken cross the road Be- cause he wanted to get to the other side and see his friend...

Dr Dre caught his friend snoop dogg looking in other people's draws Dre then said dont snoop around.

Once a monkey lives in a jamun tree his friend crocodile came there to eat jamun everyday second day he ate some jamun and left some for his wife soon his wife said why don't you kill this monkey you befriend the crocodile was sad and then ask the monkey to come at his place the monkey said what if I drowned 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 want to eat your heart the monkey the monkey said I left my heart on the jamin tree then the crocodile swam back to the jamun tree and the monkey jumped on the tree

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.

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..."