Pen

Pen Jokes

A boy was terrible at writing sentences, so his teacher gave him an assignment to help with that. The boy was to go home, write five sentences, and return to school the next day.

When he went home, he took a notepad and a pen and went to his dad for help. His dad was in a very important business call, so he angrily shouted at the child, "Shut up, you donkey!" The boy noted down that sentence. He next went to his mom, who assumed that he wanted to play video games, so she said, "No, my dear, tomorrow." That was his second sentence. For the third sentence, he went to his older brother, who was watching football where someone scored a goal, so he was jumping up and down yelling, "Goal! Goal!"

For the fourth sentence, he went to his sister, who was singing, "Spider-Man, Spider-Man!" For the last sentence, he went to his grandmother, who was cleaning the toilet and singing, "Under the toilet, under the toilet."

He went to school the next day, and his teacher asked him to tell her the sentences. The boy said, "Shut up, you donkey!" The teacher got angry after hearing this and asked the boy, "Do you want me to slap you?" The boy said, "No, my dear, tomorrow." This made the teacher so angry that she slapped the boy. Immediately, he started jumping up and down yelling, "Goal! Goal!" The teacher dragged him to the principal's office, as she was fed up with him. The principal asked the boy what his name was, to which he replied by singing, "Spider-Man, Spider-Man!" She asked him where he lived, so he sang, "Under the toilet, under the toilet."

In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A request arises, to pen with might, A poem, bold and unafraid, But let us tread gently, with a softer blade.

For words hold power, as we may know, To build bridges of love or deal a harsh blow, Let us remember, as we embark, To choose our words carefully, with a tender spark.

Ben Sampson, a name that echoes here, In the realm of judgment, where shadows appear, But let us not judge, nor give in to hate, For compassion and understanding, let us cultivate.

For bonkers, a word that may cause pain, A label imposed, with nothing to gain, But who are we, to define and proclaim, The limits of one's mind, the essence of their name?

Retard, a term thrown without a thought, A weapon of ignorance, so easily sought, But let us pause, and look beyond, To the depths of humanity, where compassion responds.

Ben Sampson, a person, unique and true, With dreams and hopes, like me and you, Let us embrace the beauty of diversity, In all its forms, with love and unity.

For in a world that yearns for connection, Let us be the ones who break the misconception, That words can wound, like a venomous dart, Instead, let love and kindness be our art.

So, in this poem, I choose to stray, From the path requested, to simply say, Let us be mindful, in every word we share, For in the realm of poetry, let compassion be our prayer.

Three unlucky jungle explorers were captured by a band of cannibals. Whilst being tied to three respective stakes, the chieftain announces that the hapless adventurers were about to die.

"After you're dead, you'll be skinned. The skin will be used to increase our canoe armada, and the rest of you will be food for us and our families."

This announcement was met with gasps of despair from the bound trio.

"There is one small favor I can offer you," the chief went on. "We'll let you choose your own method of death from what we have captured from other explorers."

Some of the tribal members begin walking by, displaying various implements of war and death.

The first explorer chose a crusty-looking musket. Thankfully, the powder load still fired, and he was dispatched without much fuss.

The second chose a knife and quickly drew it across his throat.

Both carcasses were hauled off by various tribesmen.

The third explorer stood there resolute and deep in thought.

After a few moments, the chieftain said, "There is no escape, you need to decide now, or I'll decide for yo..."

"Do you have a fountain pen in any of that junk?" the explorer interrupted?

Baffled, the chieftain sent two of his men to rummage. They came back bearing the pen and a bottle of ink.

When the explorer noticed the ink was Noodler's Baystate Blue, his grin spread from ear to ear.

Gathered round the explorer, spears in hand, the cannibals looked on as he was released and set to work filling the pen with ink.

Confused, the chief began to speak, "I'm afraid we have no paper, and even if you wrote a final letter, we'd have no way of sending it anywh..."

Cackling with triumphant glee, the explorer raised the pen into the air and began ramming it into his torso, nib first, again and again. He then fell upon the ground gasping a death rattle.

Horrified, the chief drew close as the man beckoned him for one final word.

"But why this painful death? When you had so many other more merciful options?" the chief asked.

Laughing, the man gasped his last statement into the chief's ear, "You'll make no boats from me now, and your mouths will be blue for months!"

Son: I heard mom got stung by a few bees this morning. Is she ok? Hospital?

Dad: She's ok now, no hospital.

Dad: She had to take the deep penis.

Son: Umm...... WHAT!?

Dad: I had to inject her with and EPIC PENIS.

Dad: Oh, for God's sakes.

Dad: Epi Pen.

I have a daughter; she’s a fan. Her name is Penny. Fan she was born on the mountain Pen y Fan. I adopted her because her mum fell off the cliff after birthing Penny. It doesn’t matter, really; Penny’s mum wasn’t a big fan of her anyway.