there's a kid with loads of new fire men equipment and sees a fire engine go past and the kids asks the firemen come have a look at my new gear so the fire men go look at his gear so then the kid says kid: I've got a helmet a big jacket and a oxygen tank and a little wheel barrow for my gear
firemen says: why is there a rope tied around a cat's balls the kid says so I can have a siren nnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
Gregg says to his friend which is a girl and Says" hey umm do you umm want to do something?" And the girl says" umm sure why not." Gregg says" well then we have to go somewhere secretive." the girl says " umm well ok." Gregg says "great" So Gregg bring Sally to a tree so no one can see them and then Sally says "So what are we going to do behind this big tree?" Gregg says "well pull down your pants and all show ya" Sally says "ok it sounds fun" And then gregg pulls his pants down and tells Sally to lay on the ground then he puts his dick in Sally's pussy and he goes up and down up and down up and down and then Sally starts to moan more and more and then suddenly a teacher here's her moan and then the teacher sees what Gregg and Sally are doing and then the teacher gets in on it and both Gregg and Sally start fucking the teacher and then the teacher moans and then the whole school makes their own sex groups and the whole school has threesomes... THE END
3 men walk up to indans, one american,one muslim, and one african american, the indans say were all ganna kill you. one of the men ask why. The indan says so we can use your skin to make kyanks. He also says yall decide how you die.The mysim says i want to drown, so they drown him.African american says shoot me.And the american grabs a fork and starts poking himself everywhere, i mean everywhere. the indan said whats the point of this and the american says f**k your kyanks.
The teacher asked the class what they wanted to be when they grew up Johnny said when he grows up hes going to be A motherfuking Hustler he's going to have a wife and live in a big house in the country with maids and butlers and drive a rolls- Royce and he's also going to have apartment in the City where his side bitch is going to live he's going to buy her expensive jewelry whatever she wants cars diamonds clothes shoes the teacher didn't know what to say so she calls on Sally what do you want to be when you grow up? Sally said I want to be Johnny's bitch.
Little Timmy walked in on his parents having sex. His parents look at him in fear. Little Timmy asks; "Mom, Dad, what are you doing?" The mom replies with, "We are playing house," "We'll will let you play when you're older, " The dad says. So the next day Timmy goes over to play with his friend Johnny. Who was ironically Timmy's neighbor. Johnny asks, "How was your sleep last night?" "I saw my mom and dad playing house last night," Timmy says. "But they told me I could play with them when I'm older." After a little bit of playing with Johnny, Timmy went home and saw his Dad playing house with his babysitter. "Dad, what are you doing?" Timmy asks. "I'm playing house with your babysitter," Timmy's Dad said. "But I saw you play house with Mom last night," Timmy told his father. "Well, don't tell your mother." His dad said.
In the realm of words, I shall embark, To craft a verse, both bold and stark, Thomas Bulgin, a name that ignites, A tale of length and moist delights.
Free from the chains of structured rhyme, I wander through this realm, sublime, Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so strange, Evoking thoughts that rearrange.
Long, it stretches, like a winding road, Leading us to depths, yet to be bestowed, In syllables, it dances and it plays, A journey we embark, in myriad ways.
Moist, a word that teems with life, A touch of nature, amidst the strife, It whispers of raindrops on tender leaves, Of dew-kissed petals and gentle heaves.
Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so surreal, Unleashing emotions, that time cannot seal, In this short verse, I strive to convey, A glimpse of what these words might say.
So let us ponder, the mystery untold, Of Thomas Bulgin, both long and bold, For in the realm of poetry's sweet embrace, Even the unusual finds its rightful place.
