New Outing Jokes - Page 68 - Worst Jokes Ever

What's the best time to hang out with an Indian? When your nose is clogged.

Why did the oxygen molecules walk out of the singles bar with excitement?

Because she got Avogadro's number!

Stephen Hawking was in a house fire. When he got out, people called him "Hot Wheels."

I am still trying to figure out why paying the COVID doctors a compliment is so offensive. They even kicked me out, and all I said was to stay positive...

Perfect dinner joke.

Did you hear about the new movie, "Constipated?"

It hasn’t come out yet.

Have you seen the new movie Constipation?

You haven't?

That's because it hasn't come out yet.

One time, I took my wife to the doctors. My wife had a severe migraine and needed a medic. I waited for about 10 minutes.

The doctor walked out with my wife in a wheelchair. "Due to your wife's broken hip, she may never walk again," said the doctor. "She had a migraine," I said. "Oh, we know," said the doctor.

OK, so Kenya and Kariah are both orphans that hate orphan jokes, so how about we make a joke out of them!

What does a refrigerator and a gay male have in common?

Only one farts when you pull the meat out. 🌝🌝🌝

What do you call a kid in a wheelchair coming out of a building on fire? Hot wheels.

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

How do you get it out? Tortilla chip.

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!

Little Johnny got a train set for Christmas. He takes it around the circle, parks it at the station, and says, "Alright, you motherfuckers get off here, and you motherfuckers get off here." His mom comes rushing in and says, "Little Johnny, we don’t use that kind of language, go to your room and think about what you did!"

After a few hours, she lets him out of his room. He goes back to play with his train set. He takes it around the circle, parks it at the station, and says, "Okay, you guys get off here, and you guys get off here. And if you have any complaints about the two hour delay, take it up with the bitch in the kitchen."

Did you hear Stephen Hawking has a new book out?

It's about time!

"Hello, this is your captain speaking. We are flying at a level of 89 feet. If you look out of your window on the left, you will see the World Trade Center."

Why do orphans want parents? Because they don't want to be left out.

Everybody is mad because that guy from Alberta punched a girl in a wheelchair.

I think he was upset because he found out his sister was cheating on him.

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...