Pocket jokes

Jack opened his drying eyes, awoken by a piercing ray of sunlight shining through crooked blinds. A gentle smell wafted in from the corner of what his temporarily blinded eyes knew to be a dilapidated kitchen. It was the one good thing about his life, that smell. He closed his eyes once more and awaited his call.

“Jacky, breakfast time!” beckoned that oh-so-familiar girlish voice. “Oh, silly me, the handcuffs!”

The same footsteps he always heard, the only ones, tapped along the tile floor as each one of Jack’s limbs were freed from the cold metal that imprisoned them. He’d learned not to resist it, and the acceptance was blissful.

Jack slowly dragged himself to the kitchen table, still adjusting his eyes to the light. Moments later, a bowl was slid over to him by a hand he’d become all too familiar with. Oatmeal with little bits of dried apple mixed in. Even after four years, he still liked it.

“Thank you, Randy,” Jack muttered.

“Jill,” said the girl’s voice across from him. The girl’s voice vanished.

“You call me Randy when I’m having my way with you, boy. Understood?” said the balding, sweat-stained man from whom Jill’s voice came.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now hurry up and eat your food. I want to have some more fun before you expire.”

Jack ate obediently, but deep down he grew concerned. Expired? What could Randy mean by...expired?

He thought back to the day everything went wrong. The day he was deceived. His 14th birthday.

Four years...already? Was Jack really about to be an adult? Then expired means...

Jack stood up quickly, hitting his knees on the table with a thud.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Which one?”

“The one you don’t like to watch,” Jack replied. Randy waved him away dismissively.

Jack paced around the small shack searching for the bathroom door. He passed the heavily locked front door, each lock a memento of his past escape attempts. Finally, he entered the bathroom. No lock, he had to be fast.

Jack searched desperately around the room for anything he could use. If this was his last round before Randy was through with him, it might be his only chance to escape. He opened drawers, scrounged through cupboards, scoured every inch of the floor, but found a small mirror.

“Almost done, Jacky?” called the voice of Jill. “Don’t keep daddy waiting.” grumbled Randy.

Startled, Jack lost his grip on the mirror. Jack froze the second it fell to the floor and shattered.

“Shit...shit!” he whispered sharply, trying to brush the mess away. In doing so, he found a shard large enough to be held. “This’ll have to do...”

Jack slid the shard in his pocket and returned to the living room he had woken up in. The same old deflated mattress was still there, iron bars and all. Randy lay sprawled across it, a pink lace bra covering his hairy chest, matching panties withholding his dense, greasy bush. His waist had grown so fat they hardly fit, until...

SNAP!

The panties seemed to vanish as the waistband broke, springing his embarrassing, already erect penis from side to side.

“Oopsies,” he cooed.

Jack took off his clothes, as was the ritual, and laid them at the foot of the mattress. His sore knees pressed into the stained fabric while he inched closer to Randy’s pulsating cock. Licking his lips, Jack bent down and took the member into his mouth. Randy groaned with pleasure as Jack’s tongue swirled around his tip, diving into the lining of his foreskin to gather what curds of smegma were present. Jack’s nausea at this had vanished long ago, he was merely going through the motions before enacting his plan.

As he throated Randy’s dick over and over again, the man who had trapped Jack for so long began to thrust upward into his mouth, lightly scratching his face with the overgrown pubes that lined the base of his cock. Jack wiggled his tongue in Randy’s urethra, just how he liked it. Anything to get this over with quicker.

“Ungh, fuck...don’t stop Jack, you dirty little whore...I’m so close,” Randy moaned.

Jack sucked harder and harder, faster and faster, all while his hand slowly inched toward the makeshift blade in his pants behind him. With the weapon in hand, Jack gave it everything he had.

“MMMPH FUCK YES, CMON BABY GIVE IT TO ME! OH JACK, OH, OH FUCK, I’M G-GONNA CUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!” screamed Randy, closing his eyes tightly.

He threw his head back and Jack took his chance. With one fell swoop of the glass shard, he sliced Randy’s dick clean off, spitting the half of it still in his mouth out. Jack lunged at the injured Randy, glass still in hand.

“AAARRGGHHHHHH, FUCK! HAAH...FUCK!” Randy cried, semen oozing out of his bloody stump of a penis. He opened his eyes just as Jack thrust the blade straight into his right one, then his left. Left weak from the orgasm, Randy could hardly fight back.

(To be continued in comments)

What do you call a midget stripper?

A pocket pussy.

I was sitting on my own in a restaurant when I saw a beautiful woman at another table. I sent her a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu. She sent me a note, “I will not touch a drop of this wine unless you can assure me that you have seven inches in your pocket.” I wrote back, “Give me the wine. As gorgeous as you are, I'm not cutting off three inches for anyone.”

A man is pulled over by a police officer.

The policeman approaches the driver's door. "Is there a problem, Officer?"

The officer says, "Sir, you were speeding. Can I see your license, please?"

The driver responds, "I'd give it to you, but I don't have one."

"You don't have one?"

The man responds, "I lost it four times for drunk driving."

The officer is shocked. "I see. Can I see your vehicle registration papers, please?"

"I'm sorry, I can't do that."

The officer says, "Why not?"

"I stole this car."

The officer says, "Stole it?"

The man says, "Yes, and I killed the owner."

At this point the officer is getting irate. "You what?!"

"She's in the trunk if you want to see."

The officer looks at the man and slowly backs away to his own car and calls for backup. Within minutes, five police cars show up, surrounding the car. A senior officer slowly approaches the car, clasping his half-drawn gun.

The senior officer says, "Sir, could you step out of your vehicle, please?"

The man steps out of his vehicle. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"One of my officers told me that you have stolen this car and murdered the owner."

"Murdered the owner?"

The officer responds, "Yes, could you please open the trunk of your car, please?"

The man opens the trunk, but there is nothing there.

The officer says, "Is this your car, sir?"

The man says, "Yes," and hands over the registration papers.

The officer, understandably, is quite stunned.

"One of my officers claims that you do not have a driving license."

The man digs through his pockets, pulls out a wallet, and hands it to the officer. The officer opens the wallet and examines the license. He looks quite puzzled.

"Thank you, sir. One of my officers told me you didn't have a license, stole this car, and murdered the owner."

The man replies, "I bet you the lying bastard told you I was speeding, too!"

Joshua White loves blue, A simple truth, tried and true. In his pocket, only six, Yet each penny a valued fix.

With eyes that seek the azure skies, He dreams of places that mesmerize. A palette of blues, a symphony of hues, Whispering secrets only he can choose.

His heart beats to the rhythm of the sea, Where waves crash, wild and free. In sandy shores, he finds solace rare, A momentary escape from life's daily wear.

In cerulean fields, flowers dance, Their vibrant petals, a timeless romance. He wanders through meadows, devoid of strife, Seeking solace in nature's vibrant life.

Joshua White, a soul of gentle grace, Embracing the world at his own pace. Though his pockets hold a mere six, His spirit soars, never to be fixed.

For in the depths of his azure dreams, The richness of life's tapestry gleams. And with every breath, he finds anew, That love is boundless, ever true.

Is that a mirror in your pocket?

'Cause I can see myself in your pants.

If lint comes from pockets, where does a cockroach come from?

What starts with a P and ends in S? (hint: men have it and women want it). Pockets.

Just watched my friend take a steak out of her pocket. That steak was so outta pocket.

An Asian man walks into a bar in Australia. The bartender says to him “why are you here? Get back in that wing wong country.”

The Asian man says “I’m here traveling and now I’m gonna attack you with my 40 gallons of fried rice I’ve had in my pocket since wa dinowar wages. #wingwong”

If I had a genie grant me wishes, I wouldn't wish for a million pounds. I'd just wish that every time I buy something I just have the right amount of money in my pocket at the time.

Today I donated my watch, phone, and $500 to a poor guy.

You wouldn’t believe the happiness I felt as he slid the pistol back into his pocket.

A guy walks into a bar. He goes up to the bartender and says, "If I can surprise you, I get a free drink." The bartender was unsure but agreed.

The guy pulled a 30cm long pianist out of his pocket, and he starts to play.

The bartender was surprised and gave the guy a free drink.

The guy then says, "You see, I have a little wizard in my pocket that grants wishes. Can I get another free drink if you get a free wish?"

The bartender agrees without hesitation.

The bartender wishes for 1000 bucks, but he gets 1000 ducks.

"WTF!" the man shouts.

The guy answered, "Did you think I wanted a 30cm long pianist?"

Little Johnny was in class and the teacher said, "Okay class, what's behind my back?" She said, "It's round and red," and Sally said, "Ooh, ooh, it's an apple!" And the teacher said, "No, but I like where you're going with this." So now the teacher said, "It is also used to make multiple things," and Sally said, "Ooh, ooh, it's a container of paint!" And the teacher said, "Again, no, but I like where you're going with this." And the teacher said, "It's a ball of yarn," as she pulled it out from behind her back. Then Little Johnny said, "Okay, my turn." He said, "What's in my pocket? It's round and it has a head." And the teacher said, "That's enough, Johnny, now sit down." And Little Johnny pulled the thing out of his pocket and said, "It's a nickel, but I like where you're going with this."

There's a man crawling through the desert. He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that'll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means you're in trouble - usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, and takes the bottle. "BETTER NATE THAN LEVER!!!"

A man sits in a bar and gets seriously drunk to the point where he vomits on his shirt. He panics.

The bartender asked, "What's wrong, sir?"

The man replies, "I got drunk and vomited, my wife will kill me."

The bartender says, "Put $20 in the shirt and say someone puked on you and they paid you for the wash."

So the man walks out with the $20 he put in his shirt pocket. The next day, the wife said, "Why is there vomit on your shirt?"

The man says, "Someone puked on me and gave me $20 bucks for the wash."

The wife pulls out the money. "There is $40," says the wife.

"Oh, he also peed on me and paid for the wash, too." The man walks away believing he didn't get caught by his wife.

There is this fish, and this fish thinks if that fly drops 6 inches, I’m gonna jump out the water and eat that fucking fish!

Then there is a bear, he thinks if that fly drops six inches, that fish jumps up - I’m gonna run out there and eat that fucking fish!

This huntsman also thinks to himself 🧐 if that fly drops six inches, fish jumps up, bear runs out, eats the fish. I’m gonna shoot that fucking bear.

Unbelievably there is a tiny little brave mouse, who also thinks to himself 🧐 if that fly drops six inches, fish jumps, bear runs, huntsman shoots,

He’s bound to drop that cheese sandwich in his back pocket!!!!

I’m gonna eat that fucking cheese sandwich!!

Meanwhile...

there’s This cat!!!’ He sees what’s going on - if they fly drops six inches -the fish =bear =huntsman =mouse eating the cheese sarnie....

Easy pickings...

Anyway bang 💥 the fly drops six inches. Fish jumps up. Bear grabs the fish. Huntsman shoots the fucking bear,

DROPS HIS CHEESE SARNIE!!

Cat runs after mouse trying to get the cheese sarnie

The cat slips over him (stacks it) cat falls in the river...

LONG STORY I KNOW BUT THE MORAL OF THE STORY IS...

every time a fly drops six inches a pussy get wet)

WALLOP... try remembering all that in A pub pissed. Xx

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a rectal thermometer and thought,

"Some asshole has my pen!"

I live inside my own world of make-believe. Kids screaming in their cradles, profanities. I see the world through eyes covered in ink and bleach. Cross out the ones who heard my cries and watched me weep. I love everything. Fire's spreading all around my room. My world's so bright. It's hard to breathe, but that's alright. Hush, shh.

Tape my eyes open to force reality (oh no, no). Why can't you just let me eat my weight in glee? I live inside my own world of make-believe. Kids screaming in their cradles, profanities. Some days I feel skinnier than all the other days, And some days I can't tell if my body belongs to me. I love everything. Fire's spreading all around my room. My world's so bright. It's hard to breathe, but that's alright. Hush, shh.

I wanna taste your content. Hold your breath and feel the tension. Devils hide behind redemption. Honesty is a one-way gate to hell. I wanna taste consumption. Breathe faster to waste oxygen. Hear the children sing aloud. It's music 'til the wick burns out. Hush.

Just wanna be carefree lately, yeah. Just kicking up daisies. Got one too many quarters in my pockets. Count 'em like the four-leaf clovers in my locket. Untied laces, yeah. Just tripping on daydreams. Got dirty little lullabies playing on repeat. Might as well just rot around the nursery and count sheep.

MISSING!! MISSING!! ⚠️⚠️

Name: Kylian Fraudbappe Missing: 28/6/2021 vs Switzerland Characteristics: Disappearing in big games + Diving + always ranting "give me penalty".

Possible Locations: Penalty Spot, Parc des Princes, Paris.

Last seen: Manuel Akanji’s back pocket.