New Howe Jokes - Page 84 - Worst Jokes Ever

How do you put a baby in a blender feet first so you can see its facial expressions?

How do you get the baby out? With a tortilla chip!

How do you call a black pilot?

A pilot, you racist.

How do you get your grass to cut itself?

Make it depressed.

Imagine you go to school, right? You hit the curve, the bus driver be like, "Ahhh, how do I stop the bus?" Students from the bus jump from the windows. One of the students: "That's a YOU problem."

In Alabama... How do you know your sister is having periods? Your dad's penis tastes like blood.

Gwen: Hi sir, how are you?

Tj: Good... you?

Gwen: I am super duper good! And where is your date? It seems like you need one 😉!

Tj: 😏.

Gwen: Here, this is your guest hall pass...you may...come in my friend!

Tj: Thanks but um, don't you think you should be um getting inside too?

Gwen: 🙁 No thanks sir but I have to work...I am the staff so bye! 😁.

Tj: NO!!!!!!

1 day later.

Gwen: 🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤰🤰🤰👩‍👧‍👦

Do you know how to make a plumber cry?

Kill his family.

How do you call a virgin girl in Alabama? An orphan.

How do you organize a rave party in Ethiopia? Just put some bread on the ceiling.

There is a rich child and a poor child. The rich child invites the poor child to his house and shows him all the toys and tells him: "Look at what a beautiful radio-controlled airplane I have! You don't have it because you are poor!" The poor child answers: "You're right, it's very nice, but I have one thing that you don't have!" The rich child then invites him into the garden and shows him the swimming pool, the trampoline, and all the other games that can be done outdoors and says to the poor child: "Look at that beautiful swimming pool I have! It is very big; you don't have it because you are poor!" And the poor child says: "Beautiful, it is really beautiful! But one thing that you don't have." So the rich child feels bad. He says: "Wait, but I'm rich! How is it possible? I have everything I want because I'm rich. Why do you have something that I don't have?" And the poor child says: "I have cancer!"

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...

I find this website. I see this person named Gwen. I simp for her, but just for a troll. Next thing I know, we're somehow dating? Then her ex comes in and dates her again. Apparently, he is gay, and I'm pretty sure Gwen could be a boy, but he or she has 3 friends who always back her up, just to let y'all know this isn't really supposed to be a dating app or drama app, it's a joke app, and this isn't really a joke. But one last thing, you guys are all b*tches...

Comments of Gwen in her bra!

Jordan Jadoke: Wow such a good looking kid!

Heo: Dude stop! Who the hell got this!

prince/mr tallie: Hey stop!

YOU: Sexy sexy sexxy! How much does she cost!

Kenya Bailey: NOTHING SHE IS NOT A SEX SLAVE SHE IS PERSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fuck u Kenya: SHUT UP!

Big Ideas: Do u think I hav a chance with her? Cause if then SWEET!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kariah: STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mariah: U GUYS EXPECT PRINCE, HEO, AND KENYA ARE GOOD PEOPLE THAT ARE NOT CHILD MOLESTERS!!!!!!!!!!

Hot: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Fring: I want to take u home all to my self!

Good morning, Gwen, how are you?

Person: So you know that person's name you say when you make a hoop, well he's dead.

Friend: Yeah, John Wilkes Booth.

Person: How dare you say that he killed Abraham Lincoln?

Friend: Terrible guy but he never missed a shot!

Bruh, people always makin' jokes 'bout how their dad left, well in my story it was the mum that needed milk.

A 28 year old woman, Olga, in Meshchovsk, Russia took justice into her own hands when a 32 year old male robber, Viktor, decided to rob her salon. She tied him, feeding him only Viagra, having sex with him over and over. After a few days, she released him after he stated he learned his lesson and wouldn't go to the police. He lied and went to the police anyways. Both were arrested.

After his sentence was over, Viktor sat down to speak to the local news. The reporter asked Viktor, "How was this whole ordeal?" Viktor replied, "I've had better."