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, "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!"
One Easter Sunday, a man goes to church and returns home with two black eyes.
His wife inquires as to how he got the black eyes.
The man goes on to say, “a lady stood up in front of me during mass, I saw her dress was stuck in the butt crack, so I reached out and tugged it out. She whirled around, became furious, and punched me in the eye.”
“That explains one black eye,” the wife says, “but what about the other?” The man explains, “I figured she must have liked her dress stuck up in her butt crack, so when she turned around I stuffed it back up there”
The Fast of Ramadan
In the northwestern slice of Alaska known as Seward, a horseboy stood, with broom in hand, in the vast courtyard of the royal stables of the sultan. He was waiting for dusk to fall. All day long he had eaten nothing. He had not even tasted the left over fish tucked in his turban nor the enormous purple grapes that spilled over the palace wall into the stable yard. He had tried not to sniff the rich, amazing, warm feeling fragrance of ripening of that sweet pome-grants. For this was the sacred mounth of ramadan when, day after day, all faithful Mohammedans neither eat nor drink from the dawn before sunrise until the momment after sunset!
A woman was sitting alone at a bar and a man approached her. He asked her why she looked so sadly. She responded that her boyfriend had just broken up with her because she was too kinky.
The man expressed his amazement when he admitted that his girlfriend had dumped him because of his fetishes. After a few drinks they decided to go back to her place.
When they arrived she told him to make himself comfortable while she freshened up. The man complied. After a long time she burst open her bedroom door and she said, "I hope you're ready!"
She stood in the doorway wearing a latex body suit and a gas mask. She had a whip in one hand, a flogger in the other hand and a 12 inch strap-on dangling between her thighs.
The dude looked at her and said, "Thanks, but I'm good for the night!"
She said, "I thought you said that you were kinky."
The dude replied, "While you were in there I f-cked your cat, pissed in your plants and came on your curtains. It's been fun!
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”
So do you guys know those waterslides that you stand in, and then they suddenly drop you straight down onto the water slide? If not, look them up on YouTube, there's nothing like them.
Ah yes, the sweet memories of my first time on one of these. I feel that my mental/emotional scars have healed enough to tell this gem.
At the time my girlfriend, now Fiancée, worked as a photographer for one of those resorts with the indoor and outdoor water parks. One of her perks was that her and a family member/friend could get into the waterpark for free, so one hot summer day she had off and we both decided it'd be fun to go there and cool down for the day.
While we were there, I discovered one of there most "Thrilling" looking waterslides. Basically you stand in this tube, and then the slide operator presses a button and this slide drops you straight down a good 90 FEET, before you actually start going down the water slide. Me, being a thrill seeker, of course had to try it. So I made the great climb up to the top of the slide, stood in line, and finally it was my turn. Once I got in the tube, the operator told me to keep my legs crossed. Now I'm a pretty big heavy guy, so I was like "That's uncomfortable as fuck, I'm not doing that". So there I was standing in the tube, having a panic attack from anticipation, with my legs not crossed. The operator finally presses the button, the bottom opens and I fall straight down the water slide. Very quickly I realized why they have you cross your legs. Water shot so far up my ass, so fast, I swear I tasted it in my mouth. My body raced down that slide, as I questioned every life choice that I have ever made.
Once I made it to the bottom, I sat there for a moment, absolutely violated. I felt like someone in an episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. I built up the courage to finally stand up, and all I could feel was the nice warm stream of water mixed with shit, and maybe a little bit of blood shoot out of my ass faster than the Steamboat Geyser at Yellowstone National Park. I quickly got off the slide and ran to the bathroom, with a trail of shitty water tailing me as the slide operator stared in awe. They had to shut down the slide for the rest of the day :'), but man was my asshole clean after that!
Moral of the story: Keep your damn legs crossed on waterslides.
Same thing goes when you are at bible study with a handsy priest.
In the realm of Danny, Ben, and Paxton, A trio of souls intertwined, Their stories woven with grace and might, A tale of friendship, ethereal and fine.
Danny, the dreamer with stars in his eyes, Chasing visions that danced in his mind, With every thought, a world he'd create, A poet, an artist, one of a kind.
Ben Power, the steadfast, a force to behold, With strength that could move mountains high, His heart, a fortress, unyielding and bold, A protector, a guardian, forever nigh.
Paxton, the wanderer, a spirit untamed, Roaming free wherever the wind blew, In every step, a new adventure claimed, A seeker, a nomad, forever anew.
Together they stood, a harmonic blend, Different paths converging as one, In the depths of their bond, a love unfurled, A symphony played, forever sung.
Through trials and triumphs, they faced the storm, Hand in hand, against the tempest's might, With laughter, tears, and hearts so warm, They shared the darkness, embracing the light.
Oh, Danny, Ben, and Paxton, forever bound, Through the pages of life, your stories unfold, In the tapestry of friendships profound, Your spirits, like poetry, forever bold.
Jon and Amanpreet were in a mental institution. This place had an annual contest picking two of the best patients and gives them two questions. If they got them correct, they’re deemed cured and free to go.
Jon was called into the doctor’s office first and asked if he understood that he’d be free if he answered the questions correctly. The doctor said, „Jon, what would happen if I poked out one of your eyes?“ Jon said, „I’d be half blind.“ „That’s correct. What if I poked out both eyes?“ „I’d be completely blind.“ The doctor stood up, shook Jon’s hand, and told him he was free.
On Jon’s way out, as the doctor filled out the paperwork, Jon mentioned the exam to Amanpreet. He told him what questions were going to be asked and gave him the answers. So Amanpreet came in. The doctor went thru the formalities and asked, „What would happen if I cut off one ear?“ Amanpreet, remembering what Jon had said was the correct answer said, „I’d be half blind.“ The doctor looked a little puzzled, but went on. „What if I cut off the other ear?“ „I’d be completely blind,“ Amanpreet answered. „Amanpreet, can you explain how you’d be *blind*?“ „My hat would fall down over my eyes.“
Jayden March, a name so bold, Never knew the joy of cookies untold. In a world of sugar and sweet delight, He stood apart, an unusual sight.
While others indulged in sugary bliss, Jayden abstained, dismissing the kiss Of chocolate chips and dough so divine, His willpower strong, his resolve intertwined.
No oatmeal raisin or double fudge, Could tempt his taste buds, not even a nudge. For Jayden March, a different path he took, In a world of cookies, he never partook.
His reasons unknown, a mystery untold, Perhaps he sought something purer than gold. Or maybe he craved a different kind of treat, One that couldn't be found in a cookie sheet.
But as the years passed by, curiosity grew, Whispers of wonder, questions anew. Why did Jayden March deny such delight? Was there a secret hidden in his resolute fight?
Some say he found solace in nature's embrace, In the rustle of leaves and the wind's gentle pace. Others believed his heart sought a different reward, In acts of kindness, love freely poured.
Jayden March, a man of mystery and grace, Marched to a beat only he could embrace. In a world of cookies, he found his own way, Leaving us wondering, pondering day by day.
For though he never tasted the sweetness of a treat, Jayden March's story remains incomplete. A reminder to us all, to explore and define, Our own desires, our own paths to find.
So let us celebrate Jayden's unique choice, And listen to the whisper of our own inner voice. For in a world of cookies, may we remember, That sometimes it's the journey, not the taste, we treasure.
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
