They jokes
Dark Jokes R Like Puppies:
Once they come out they are trash, but once it starts to get older, that’s when it’s noticed, but when it gets too old, you either proclaim it dead or never talk about it.
(I would never do that though I love puppies)
Girlfriends are just like AK47s; they always go off on you.
Ever tried Ethiopian food? No? Neither have they.
What do people that can only use half their face and wankers have in common?
They have both had a few strokes.
In America, there was a boy named Urhan, and he had one hand and a stump, and a girl named Handa who was an orphan. They had a trial for the Boston Red Sox, and they failed because Urhan couldn’t stump the ball, and Handa didn’t know where home was.
How many feminists does it take to change a lightbulb?
As many as you like. They can’t change anything.
What's the difference between McDonald's and a priest?
Nothing... They both stick their meat in ten-year-old buns.
Do you know why I don't like stairs? They are always up to something. #dadjokes
I hate it when people are at my house and ask, "Do you have a bathroom?" What answer are they expecting? "No, we pee in the yard?"
What does a phone and a grandma have in common? They both die.
What's the difference between them? If you shove something up your grandma's ass, she won't come back to life.
They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, well not if it's poisoned.
Then the antidote becomes the most important.
I live next to a kindergarten, and yesterday they had a fire drill. It was kinda weird because normally it's me who has a drill around little children.
Why can't orphans play baseball?
They can't ever find home.
You walk into an area that has big asses on the wall, and they feel lifelike, so you put your dick into them, and you go on the opposite side of the wall, and women are naked through the wall.
A bear is like your best mate, Harry.
If you stab them, they die from a stab wound.
When Chinese babies are born, they should put a sticker on their forehead saying "MADE FROM CHINA".
When Chinese babies are born, they should put "MADE FROM CHINA."
Skeletons love to be in band. They love the trombone!
Why can't a blonde call 911?
She can't find the 11.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Because the chicken had 4 chicks and a cheating hen who all sucked out all his money he got from his extremely boring job, and he finally got some peace for himself and was going to the local bar, which was on the other side of the road.
He walked in the door, wings sagging, feathers catching on his claws. The bartender eyes him as he sits on a bar stool. "Chuck, how ya doin'? The missus doin' good?"
"Just give me the hardest stuff you got. I'm done."
This caught the bartender by surprise. "Chuck, come on, don't be sayin' that. Just look to the future and you'll be fine."
"What future?" Chuck replied in a huff. "My wife and chicks are so goddamn pestering sometimes, you know? But if I leave, they'll all suffer, and I don't want that either. Oh, God, Phil, I don't know what to do."
"You know, you've got a good heart for a rooster your age," Phil answered. "We need that in these parts. I'm tellin' ya, there will be more than what's happenin' right now, ya know, life's got all its gears turning for ya, and there's just a bit slow right now. The gears haven't been oiled in a while, but who's the only one who can fix that?"
Chuck knew the answer. "Me."
Phil returned with his drink. "McClucken's Whiskey, on the house."
Chuck glanced at his glass. He held it up to the light. His face reflected in an aura around it, neither looking forward to the light and not backward, either.
"No thanks, Phil," Chuck sighed, "But thanks anyways."
He went to get up out of his chair. Phil called as he walked out the door, "Just remember to oil the gears every now and then, eh?"
Chuck's comb flapped in a cool breeze brought in by the season. A bench was nearby, staring across to the other side. And he just sat there, sat there thinking. Cars blurred to a colorfully colorless nothingness as he thought in silence.
He could see an open window in his mind, full of chickens: a sassy hen, two identical sportish chick; another, older than the two, and body bristling with blue comb-dye and the latest thing he watched online fresh on his Chickstagram page; finally, the first of the bunch, shy, bookish, with a secretly courageous soul. They all looked... worried, worried for the rooster who guided them, helped them grow, supported them... and all looking out of the window back at him.
A single tear welled in Chuck's eye.
The chicken walked back across the road to his family, to his friends, and to the life he was content with.