Thanks jokes
"Thank you for letting me borrow your wife."
*darned autocorrect*
"Thank you for letting me borrow your wi-fi"
Okay, guys. Today we're gonna read the Women's Rights of 1920...
Okay, thanks for watching!
A small, nervous woman steps into a hotel elevator in Las Vegas.
At the next floor, three large, burly men step in. The woman is immediately intimidated and clutches her purse tightly.
Suddenly, one of the men says in a deep voice: "Hit the floor!"
Terrified that she is about to be robbed, the woman drops her bags and collapses face down onto the floor of the elevator, cowering in fear.
The men burst out laughing and help the bewildered woman up. The speaker apologizes profusely and says: "No, ma'am, I meant hit the button for our floor!"
The next morning, the woman receives a massive bouquet of roses and has her entire hotel bill paid for. Attached is a note that says: "Thanks for the best laugh I've had in years."
"Sir, we noticed a 2-year gap in your resume."
"That was when I went to Yale."
"A Yale man? Well, you're hired!"
"Thanks! I really need this yob!"
This is WPBS-TV. We'll pledge-break soon — thanks, viewers!
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)
A burglar breaks into the home of a weapons engineer. He wants to steal some of his weapons from his strictly secured chamber. When he breaks in through the window to go into his weapons cellar, he realizes that the inventor is at home and heard him from upstairs.
The burglar shouts, "Hands up, there is no escape!" The engineer shouts, "What do you want from me?" The thief answers impatiently, "Well, what do you think? I know what you're hiding here. Get me entry to your armory, right away!" "Never in my life will I do that!" The burglar pulls out his pistol, "Either you let me in, or you go for it!"
"Well, I'll give up, I'll give you my guns. Please don't shoot me." The burglar grins gleefully, "Thank you." "I even have a gun here that I've been working on lately. You can have it." The burglar then thinks and grunts, "Okay, before you open up, you'll show me this first!"
The inventor says, "It's shooting plasma. You can test it on one of my practice goals that I've made while I'm unlocking," and points to a side room where various dummies with targets are set up. The burglar walks into the room with the targets, focuses on the red dot in the middle of the disc, and pushes off. But the gun does not fire plasma or at the target. Instead, the gun fires a bullet at the burglar. This causes him to bleed to the ground.
The engineer behind him began to laugh, "Hahaha! I knew you were falling for it! This is not a plasma gun at all; this is my latest invention, especially for burglars like you: the backward-shooting pistol."
If I make you breakfast in bed, a simple 'thank you' is all I need.
Not all this 'How did you get in my house?' business.
My first thought when I read Betty Pear's obituary was, "Thank God for Alzheimer's!"
Thank you, anonymous user, for helping me with math a few months ago.
Now I got a 31 on the ACT.
Thanks Ethan for all you've done. We've both made mistakes when all is said and done, but just thanks for being a good friend. This is officially my last post on here, Ethan-Real 1.
I went to the dump truck today, and my wife said, "Thanks for visiting."
What words black people can't say? "Thanks for your help, officer."
What’s something you can say in a grocery store and in bed?
"Thanks for coming."
A cop pulls over a carload of nuns.
The cop says, "Sister, this is a 55 MPH highway. Why are you going so slow?"
The Sister replies, "Sir, I saw a lot of signs that said 41, not 55."
The cop answers, "Oh, Sister, that's not the speed limit, that's the name of the highway you are on!"
The Sister says, "Oh! Silly me! Thanks for letting me know. I'll be more careful."
At this point, the cop looks in the backseat where the other nuns are shaking and trembling. The cop asks, "Excuse me, Sister, what's wrong with your friends back there? They are shaking something terrible."
The Sister answers, "We just got off Highway 101."
When I bring someone breakfast in bed, I want to hear a thank you. And no, “What are you doing in my house?”
Nasruddin Hodja was tilling his patch of land when a hunter came riding up.
“Hey, you!" said the man. “Did you see a boar run past?"
“Yes," replied Hodja.
“Which way did it go?" demanded the man.
Hodja pointed in the direction in which the boar had gone.
The man rode away without a word of thanks, but he was back within minutes.
“No sign of it!" he said. “Are you sure it went that way?"
“I am certain," replied Hodja. “It went that way. Two years ago."
Today, I operated on a little girl. She needed O-negative blood. We didn’t have any, but her twin sister has O-negative blood. I explained to her that it was a matter of life and death. She sat quietly for a moment, and then said goodbye to her parents. I didn’t think anything of it until after we took her blood and she asked, “So when will I die?” She thought she was going to give her life for her sister. Thankfully they both died.
A suspected Covid-19 male patient is lying in bed in the hospital, wearing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. A young student female nurse appears and gives him a partial sponge bath.
"Nurse," he mumbles from behind the mask, "are my testicles black?"
Embarrassed, the young nurse replies, "I don't know, Sir. I'm only here to wash your upper body and feet."
He struggles to ask again, "Nurse, please check for me. Are my testicles black?"
Concerned that he might elevate his blood pressure and heart rate from worrying about his testicles, she overcomes her embarrassment and pulls back the covers.
She raises his gown, holds his manhood in one hand and his testicles gently in the other.
She looks very closely and says, "There's nothing wrong with them, Sir. They look fine."
The man slowly pulls off his oxygen mask, smiles at her, and says very slowly,
"Thank you very much. That was wonderful. Now listen very, very closely:
"Are - my - test - results - back?"
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!"