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The 6th-grade science teacher, Mrs. Parks, asked her class, “Which human body part increases to ten times its size when stimulated?”
No one answered until little Mary stood up and said, “You should not be asking sixth-graders a question like that! I’m going to tell my parents, and they will go and tell the principal, who will then fire you!”
Mrs. Parks ignored her and asked the question again, “Which body part increases to 10 times its size when stimulated?”
Little Mary’s mouth fell open. Then she said to those around her, “Boy, is she going to get in big trouble!”
The teacher continued to ignore her and said to the class, “Anybody?”
Finally, Billy stood up, looked around nervously, and said, “The body part that increases 10 times its size when stimulated is the pupil of the eye.”
Mrs. Parks said, “Very good, Billy,” then turned to Mary and continued.
“As for you, young lady, I have three things to say: One, you have a dirty mind. Two, you didn’t read your homework. And three, one day you are going to be very, very disappointed.”
What do orphans like about tattoos? They stick around.
You look like something I drew with my left hand.
9/11 is like me after I'm finished with my Lego house. I destroy it! 😄🤣
Russia be like we're strong, gets ass beat up by a comedian with a hook nose...
#i stand with Ukraine 🇺🇦
A good bath is like a dead lover. You can enjoy them, that is until they get too cold.
Why did God create yeast infections?
So women would know what it's like to live with an annoying cunt.
So, I met a boy, and he said he would be happy to be a cannibal because if we all were, we could stop overpopulation and world hunger. And I was like 😍😍😍😍🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯
Got into a fight last night. We both had blades. He cut me deep. I thought I was gone, but he forgot to keep the water running.
Weird thing was that we were in the fight of our lives in the restroom and that guy kinda looked like me.
VOTING QUARTERFINAL 1: LIKE: When the school shooter is about to leave your classroom and the autistic kid's sketchers light up.
DISLIKE: When the school shooter finds you and you think you're gonna die, but he remembers the time you gave him a pen. 🖌
Vote for the better joke!
Girls are like rocks, the flat ones get skipped.
I just saw people writing "Zoophile," "Ailurophile," and "Dendrophilia" in their bios. I thought this was cool, but when I wrote "Necrophile" and "Pedophile," I don't know why people started hating me as if I did something wrong. I was just trying to be cool like them, man.
Dear Hearing People,
We, deaf people, ain’t dead. We can use our hands to talk, eat & fist your face to give you some 💡 awareness that we can understand you 💯 meanwhile we laugh at you 🤡 We can even dance via vibration through music.
Do you know the song w lyric like this 👇 *white b.... accent: Ohhh.. MY God BECKY.. L👀k at her butt. IT is SO BIG. *BIG BEAT DROP* I...LIKE...BIG...BUTT...I cannot LIE 👻 I promise we ain’t ghosting around - Brittany Rose.
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 see my friends at school. They talk to me, they go back to class, but they forgot I am their classmate, and they were like, "You're a dumbie." And I was, "Well, you're a dumbass, bi***!"
Like this joke. Ur mom.
Why did the orphans like church so much?
So they had someone to call father...
Three friends are in a hotel room in Soviet Russia.
The first two men open a bottle of vodka, while the third is tired and goes straight to bed. He is unable to sleep however, as his increasingly drunk friends tell political jokes loudly.
After a while, the tired man gets frustrated and walks downstairs for a smoke. He stops in the lounge and asks the receptionist to bring tea to their room in five minutes.
The man walks back into the room, joins the table, leans towards a power outlet and speaks into it:
"Comrade major, we want some tea to room 62 please."
His friends laugh at the joke, until there is a knock on the door. The receptionist brings a teapot. His friends fall silent and pale, horrified of what they just witnessed. The party is dead, and the man goes to sleep.
After a good night's rest, the man wakes up, and notices his friends are gone. Surprised, he walks downstairs and asks the receptionist where they went.
The nervous receptionist whispers that KGB came and took them before dawn.
The man is horrified. He wonders why he was spared.
The receptionist responds:
"Well, comrade major did quite like your tea joke."
Head teacher talking about recent vandalism during school assembly:
"And to those of you who wrote Mr. Smith's telephone number on the door of the girl's toilets, he would like to make it clear that the last digit is a 7 and not a 4."
Little Johnny's father says if them boys say another bad word, I'm going to whoop them, and Little Johnny's brother says, "I'd like some fucking food," and he whooped him, and Little Johnny says, "He would. I'd like some food. At least I didn't—I'd like some fucking food. Bye."