Make jokes
Me: Sorry I couldn’t make it to school yesterday, I had an appointment.
Teacher: What kind of appointment?
Me: I had an appointment with a cut day. 😈😈😈
True story.
I make many jokes about jobless people, but none of them are working.
In the beginning of the 20th century, a young girl called Edit left her home country of Sweden and crossed the Ocean to make a new life in America. Unfortunately, it did not go all that well, and she soon found herself homeless, begging for food or money to survive.
She used to occupy a street next to a theater, not because it meant hefty handouts, but because it was a place where no other beggars or police bothered her. Every night, a new crowd came to see a show, and the cute young girl found just enough mercy to survive. In fact, she did so well that she decided to afford herself a small piece of cake every Tuesday, just to keep her spirits up.
One Tuesday, she could not get a break. Looked like she will go without cake this week. Then, a strange-looking gentleman stopped near her. He soon heard her story and decided to share his fortune.
Gentleman: "I work as a magician in the touring show; today, we performed here. Some nights, our guests want to gamble with us afterwards, and I make sure to bring home more than I came with. I try to keep it moderate, but today, this obnoxious drunk was loaded, so I emptied his pockets. Here, take this precious coin."
Someone asked me what the worst mistake you could make while being at work was, and I replied, "Being a doctor and mixing up the oral and rectal thermometers."
People are making apocalypse jokes like there's no tomorrow.
What's the difference between someone with dystonia and someone with misophonia?
One makes the annoying noises, while the other hates the annoying noises.
I'd make a farming joke, but I'm just a little less than corny enough.
Me telling my parents I'm depressed: my parents, "No, you're just a little stressed and want attention, am I right?" My depression worsening, me: "Yeah, you're totally right mom..." Me in my head making a plan to commit suicide.....
I don't get why bakers aren't wealthier. They make so much dough.
God creating spiders.
God: "Make it have 8 legs." Angel: "Ok? Bit excessive but ok." God: "And 8 eyes." Angel: "You need to calm down and li-" God: "Give it a butt rope!"
Devil: Hey angel.
Angel: Hi devil, why are you nice?
Devil: What do angels add to their food to make it a little more spicy?
Angel: What?
Devil: Angelpinos!
Angelina Jolie was married to Brad Pitt...
Does that make her a "Brad Nailer", and him a "Jolie Jumper"?
Does it make me gay if I kiss your dad and he decides to drill my ass?
A magic genie tells Tom, "I can make anything of yours disappear!"
Tom raises his mug and says, "Okay, get rid of my tea."
Genie: Poof!
Tom: It didn't work.
Three vampires walk into a bar. The first one orders a Bloody Mary. The second orders a Bloody Mary. The bartender turns to the third and asks, “A Bloody Mary?”
The vampire shakes his head. “Hot water for me.”
“Hot water?”
“I found a tampon out back and want to make tea.”
How to make emo cakes:
Milk Butter Eggs Sugar We're Going Down Swinging!
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...
If two eagles make a baby and two sparrows make a baby, what makes no baby?
Two swallows.
Some people ask why jokes exist. I say, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much, they have sex, and they make another one of you.
Three men were captured by a tribe and tortured. The leader of the tribe tells them that they would live only if they could achieve one thing: They had to go out and find 10 pieces of the same fruit each.
The first person returned with apples. The leader said that he had to put all 10 of them up into his ass without making a sound, or he would be killed. 1... 2... he screamed.
The next person came back with grapes. 1, 2, 3, he counted up to 8, but began to burst out laughing; he was killed. In heaven, the first man asked him why he laughed if he was doing so well. "Well, I saw the third guy coming back with fucking pineapples!"