Iron jokes
The penalty for a homeless person being caught stealing bread is an expensive, luxurious prison cell, which is located indoors and comes with free bread and water.
Aren't our governments wizards? Scrooge would be proud.
Isn't it ironic that the actually nice people tend to be suicidal?
Think about it: suicide exists to make sure bad people bother each other instead.
Jack opened his drying eyes, awoken by a piercing ray of sunlight shining through crooked blinds. A gentle smell wafted in from the corner of what his temporarily blinded eyes knew to be a dilapidated kitchen. It was the one good thing about his life, that smell. He closed his eyes once more and awaited his call.
“Jacky, breakfast time!” beckoned that oh-so-familiar girlish voice. “Oh, silly me, the handcuffs!”
The same footsteps he always heard, the only ones, tapped along the tile floor as each one of Jack’s limbs were freed from the cold metal that imprisoned them. He’d learned not to resist it, and the acceptance was blissful.
Jack slowly dragged himself to the kitchen table, still adjusting his eyes to the light. Moments later, a bowl was slid over to him by a hand he’d become all too familiar with. Oatmeal with little bits of dried apple mixed in. Even after four years, he still liked it.
“Thank you, Randy,” Jack muttered.
“Jill,” said the girl’s voice across from him. The girl’s voice vanished.
“You call me Randy when I’m having my way with you, boy. Understood?” said the balding, sweat-stained man from whom Jill’s voice came.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now hurry up and eat your food. I want to have some more fun before you expire.”
Jack ate obediently, but deep down he grew concerned. Expired? What could Randy mean by…expired?
He thought back to the day everything went wrong. The day he was deceived. His 14th birthday.
Four years…already? Was Jack really about to be an adult? Then expired means…
Jack stood up quickly, hitting his knees on the table with a thud.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Which one?”
“The one you don’t like to watch,” Jack replied. Randy waved him away dismissively.
Jack paced around the small shack searching for the bathroom door. He passed the heavily locked front door, each lock a memento of his past escape attempts. Finally, he entered the bathroom. No lock, he had to be fast.
Jack searched desperately around the room for anything he could use. If this was his last round before Randy was through with him, it might be his only chance to escape. He opened drawers, scrounged through cupboards, scoured every inch of the floor, but found a small mirror.
“Almost done, Jacky?” called the voice of Jill. “Don’t keep daddy waiting.” grumbled Randy.
Startled, Jack lost his grip on the mirror. Jack froze the second it fell to the floor and shattered.
“Shit…shit!” he whispered sharply, trying to brush the mess away. In doing so, he found a shard large enough to be held. “This’ll have to do…”
Jack slid the shard in his pocket and returned to the living room he had woken up in. The same old deflated mattress was still there, iron bars and all. Randy lay sprawled across it, a pink lace bra covering his hairy chest, matching panties withholding his dense, greasy bush. His waist had grown so fat they hardly fit, until…
SNAP!
The panties seemed to vanish as the waistband broke, springing his embarrassing, already erect penis from side to side.
“Oopsies,” he cooed.
Jack took off his clothes, as was the ritual, and laid them at the foot of the mattress. His sore knees pressed into the stained fabric while he inched closer to Randy’s pulsating cock. Licking his lips, Jack bent down and took the member into his mouth. Randy groaned with pleasure as Jack’s tongue swirled around his tip, diving into the lining of his foreskin to gather what curds of smegma were present. Jack’s nausea at this had vanished long ago, he was merely going through the motions before enacting his plan.
As he throated Randy’s dick over and over again, the man who had trapped Jack for so long began to thrust upward into his mouth, lightly scratching his face with the overgrown pubes that lined the base of his cock. Jack wiggled his tongue in Randy’s urethra, just how he liked it. Anything to get this over with quicker.
“Ungh, fuck…don’t stop Jack, you dirty little whore…I’m so close,” Randy moaned.
Jack sucked harder and harder, faster and faster, all while his hand slowly inched toward the makeshift blade in his pants behind him. With the weapon in hand, Jack gave it everything he had.
“MMMPH FUCK YES, CMON BABY GIVE IT TO ME! OH JACK, OH, OH FUCK, I’M G-GONNA CUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!” screamed Randy, closing his eyes tightly.
He threw his head back and Jack took his chance. With one fell swoop of the glass shard, he sliced Randy’s dick clean off, spitting the half of it still in his mouth out. Jack lunged at the injured Randy, glass still in hand.
“AAARRGGHHHHHH, FUCK! HAAH…FUCK!” Randy cried, semen oozing out of his bloody stump of a penis. He opened his eyes just as Jack thrust the blade straight into his right one, then his left. Left weak from the orgasm, Randy could hardly fight back.
(To be continued in comments)
What do you call a Black Iron Man?
Robert Browny Jr.
We finally have something in common with Africa. They die of starvation, we die of overeating.
What's the difference between a sheet and a baby?
One of them is really loud when you iron it.
I rule my women with an IRON FIST!!
Yeah, literally an iron that my fist is clenching against her face.
You really seem like you don't want to be laughing at that rape joke, but somewhat ironically, I'm forcing you.
Kurt Cobain didn't mean to kill himself. He was just so high he thought the shotgun was a bong.
His lyrics are so ironic but so true. "I'm not coming back". "I swear I don't have a gun."
Actually, Iron Man is female.
Three men are working on a building site.
Every day, they sit down to eat their lunch together at the top of the building.
The first man opens his lunchbox to reveal a ham sandwich.
"By god," the man exclaims, "I hate ham sandwiches. I’ve been working in construction for twenty years, and every day, despite me telling her how much I despise it, my wife gives me a ham sandwich. If I get a ham sandwich in my lunch again, I will throw myself off the top of this building and kill myself."
The second man opens his lunchbox, revealing a cheese sandwich.
"Holy crow, another cheese sandwich! I hate these things, I tell you. Every day, I tell my wife how much I despise cheese sandwiches, but I still get them in my lunch. I’m with you buddy—if I ever get a cheese sandwich in my lunch again, I’m killing myself."
The third man, having opened his lunchbox, now pipes in.
"I don’t believe it—another tuna sandwich! If I had a penny for every time I’ve told my wife how much I hate these, I wouldn’t have to work on this sordid site no more! I’m sick of it—count me in, if I get a tuna sandwich in my lunchbox again, I’m killing myself."
The next day, the three men regroup at the top of the building and open their lunchboxes: the first man – a ham sandwich, the second – a cheese sandwich, the third – a tuna sandwich.
The three men exchange solemn looks before jumping in unison from the height of the building.
At the funeral for the three men, their grieving wives turn to each other.
"If only I’d known how much he didn’t like ham sandwiches," says the first man’s wife, "I always thought he was being ironic!"
"And if only I’d known how much he didn’t like cheese sandwiches," says the second man’s wife, "I always thought he was being sarcastic!"
"And if only I’d known how much he didn’t like tuna sandwiches," says the third man’s wife, "but I don’t know what good it would have done—the fool made his own lunch!"
The maid asked her boss, the wife, for a raise, and the wife was upset.
The wife asked, "Why do you think you deserve a pay increase?"
Maid: "There are three reasons. The first is that I iron better than you."
Wife: "Who said that?"
Maid: "Your husband."
Wife: "Oh."
Maid: "The second reason is that I am a better cook than you."
Wife: "Who said that?"
Maid: "Your husband."
Wife: "Oh."
Maid: "The third reason is that I am better at sex than you."
Wife: "Did my husband say that as well?"
Maid: "No, the gardener did."
Wife: "So how much do you want?"
90% of women don't like men in pink shirts. Ironically, 90% of men in pink shirts don't like women.
Ironic that this page is dead.
What is the difference between Iron Man and Iron Woman?
One is a superhero, and the other is a simple command.
Iron jug.
You know what's REALLY "Ironic"?
Answer:
These REALLY ARE the "Worst Jokes" I've ever heard!
Imagine if a disabled person's last name was Runner or Walker! 😬😂
How ironic is this?! I was playing Jenga before the first plane hit the Twin Towers.
Women will always be superior to men. After all, they are FEmale (Fe - iron, male - man).