Like Jokes

I was reading a book one day when I suddenly heard a sound. It was the Grim Reaper. I ignored it and continued reading my book. Suddenly, I realized that I was one of the main characters, which, at the end, dies.

I used to like fireworks, but I'm dead now. Fireworks look like a charm if you don't mind something a little ghostly.

What lies beneath your nose and is being picked on? Your boogers.

So my ex, who wouldn't leave me alone because she thought I was the best person in the world even though Will has a better haircut than me, but anyway, when we broke up she said I was the worst person she ever met, and I told her she looks like a cross between a beaver and a mole rat.

Then I told her she has the Wendy's logo haircut and then some other things I'm not gonna say. 2 years of bullshit, I was done.

Anyways, she cried lol.

Spread my legs like butter n finger me hard. 👅👅👅

Why did the guy like retarded jokes? Because he was a retard himself.

i want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my grandpa, not screaming in terror like everyone else in the plane.

Most autisitic person ever.

A tweet with the text "And YES it's possible for an animal to be trans. Your cat having a penis does not make it male. It's animal abuse to misgender your animals." followed by a picture of a man with a shocked expression. Below the picture is the text "We're hitting autism levels that shouldn't even be possible."

So I walked into this bar and thought, "Wow, this is a dull joke."

I don't like jokes.

What do orphans and Trump supporters have in common?

No one likes them.

Sorry for the interruption. I am ALYA, and I am disappointed in you guys. You shouldn't bully or make fun of orphans. They didn't choose their life or what happened in their life. What happens if you were an orphan and people were making fun of you? Would you like that?

Marriage is like buying a car. You see one that you like and then you buy it. But over the years, it gets older, rusty, and certain parts stop working.

Then you walk into a dealership and look at all the new ones and you're still stuck with the old one. You look over and go, "But I just wanna sit in it. Just once. It's even got leather interior, it's chrome, it doesn't even have oil or gas leaks! And it doesn't squeak!"

My new stepfather told me that I'm his new son, so I said okay.

My stepfather said that my and your mom have a few things in common. I said, "Yeah, like what?" My stepfather said, "Well, you came out of your mother's pussy; I eat your mother's pussy. You used to suck on your mother's tits; now I suck on your mother's tits. Your mother used to smack you in the ass when you act up; now I smack your mom in the ass now. Your mother calls me daddy; now I am your new daddy."

A man is out west driving and on the edge of town comes across a tourist stand and sitting in front is an Indian chief right out of central casting. Dour look, full headdress, a glass jar and a sign that says "Indian chief know all! $5". So the fellow's curiosity gets the better of him and he goes up to the chief, puts $5 in the jar and asks "What did I have for breakfast on this day 10 years ago?" Chief taps his chin for a moment and says "Hmmm eggs. You had eggs!"

"Eggs?" shouts the guy "Everybody has eggs! I've been had!" throws his hands in the air and leaves in a huff.

Ten years on, as fate would have it the fellow has occasion to be driving through the same town and sure enough he comes across the same stand, Indian chief, sign, and jar. So he stops the car and saunters across the road, goes up to the chief like a smart-ass, holds up his hand and says "How". Chief taps his chin for a moment and says "Poached."

I don't like condoms, but I like gay pregnant X.

In the realm of words, I shall embark, To craft a verse, both bold and stark, Thomas Bulgin, a name that ignites, A tale of length and moist delights.

Free from the chains of structured rhyme, I wander through this realm, sublime, Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so strange, Evoking thoughts that rearrange.

Long, it stretches, like a winding road, Leading us to depths, yet to be bestowed, In syllables, it dances and it plays, A journey we embark, in myriad ways.

Moist, a word that teems with life, A touch of nature, amidst the strife, It whispers of raindrops on tender leaves, Of dew-kissed petals and gentle heaves.

Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so surreal, Unleashing emotions, that time cannot seal, In this short verse, I strive to convey, A glimpse of what these words might say.

So let us ponder, the mystery untold, Of Thomas Bulgin, both long and bold, For in the realm of poetry's sweet embrace, Even the unusual finds its rightful place.

What do strippers and peanut butter have in common? They both like oil

A girl said she liked dogs, I called her a bitch

Shut the fuck up, you fat bitch. You always like to roast others, but you can't walk up the stairs without passing out, you fat, stupid bitch. And I caught you breaking into someone's house just to steal a piece of candy, fat-ass bitch.