This jokes

You guys are literally mentally ill. You should get some help. This is so disgusting, ew!

So I walked into this bar and thought, "Wow, this is a dull joke."

I don't like jokes.

Why are people joking about this stuff?

Hi, I have a question for you.

Did you know that reading this is wasting your time?

Yeah, sorry xD

What do you get when you mix an apple with water... applesauce. Wait, do not leave yet. If you are still reading this, you have been rekt, ha ha. At least I am still laughing.

A man is out west driving and on the edge of town comes across a tourist stand and sitting in front is an Indian chief right out of central casting. Dour look, full headdress, a glass jar and a sign that says "Indian chief know all! $5". So the fellow's curiosity gets the better of him and he goes up to the chief, puts $5 in the jar and asks "What did I have for breakfast on this day 10 years ago?" Chief taps his chin for a moment and says "Hmmm eggs. You had eggs!"

"Eggs?" shouts the guy "Everybody has eggs! I've been had!" throws his hands in the air and leaves in a huff.

Ten years on, as fate would have it the fellow has occasion to be driving through the same town and sure enough he comes across the same stand, Indian chief, sign, and jar. So he stops the car and saunters across the road, goes up to the chief like a smart-ass, holds up his hand and says "How". Chief taps his chin for a moment and says "Poached."

I was staying over at my friend's; for the purpose of the joke, he shall be called Kian. It was 03:00 am and everyone else was asleep when I heard a soft banging on the wall. I left the room to inspect it. Kian lived with his grandad John Hauge; it was thought he had a huge slong.

The banging was getting louder, and so too was my heartbeat. I opened John's door and ventured into the room. John was fully naked. There was a glory hole through the wall where I could make it Kian's ass. This is what I have been waiting for. I rip off my shorts, which Ali G bought for me, and silently moved towards John. I shoved [my] 1-inch wonder in his ear. John furiously turned around and slapped me with his cock, "You little gimp, get on the bed."

Kian came in the room with a 2-litre bottle of Irn Bru. He demanded, "What the fudge are you doing?"

I replied smoothly, "Kian, you tracksuit warrior, you have a camel toe!"

Kian fires back, "Shut it, Paul, you have genital warts!"

John screams, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

He then gives us it so rough I can't walk the next day, but [I] feel pleasured for eternity.

By Lewis

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.

The FitnessGramTM Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20-meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal. A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound. Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, start.

Level 1 Feel it One Two Three Four Five Six Seven; end of level one.

Pedophiles are really stupid and need to leave this earth.

Today I explain what things are fake: serial killers, clowns, Billy, fairies, your life, God, Jesus, your mom, and all your crappy fan-fictions about being saved from your even crappier life.

I'm also gonna explain real stuff: YouTube, your dad, scientists, teachers, God, Jesus, and Billy.

Stuff on both is real and fake depending on who you are. Your life IS fake. A lot of idiots will read this.

Knock, knock.

Who's there?

My I.

May I who?

May I put this pussy on your mouth?

Ok, here's a story about the church.

There were two parents, then they had a baby. Then they go to the church and the baby was getting a cross on his forehead. Guess he was big headed. Sorry if this offends anyone or makes this joke bad since I keep writing this.

A family had a very disobedient dog. It would bite the children’s hands when they pet the animal, the dog would piss on everything, and it would chew their shoes. This is why it was adopted.

Once, there was a man that was coming to my house and peeing in my yard. Then the man came back to my house and flopped his penis everywhere and peed at the same time, and it went all over my face.

So the next day, he came back, and I got my BB gun and shot a metal BB into his peepee.

This didn't actually happen.

When Pope Pius IX died, he went to Heaven, knocked at the door, and St. Peter opened it: "Who are you? What do you want?”

"I am Pope Pius. I want to come to Heaven.”

“Where do you come from?"

"Rome."

“What do you mean? Rome, Massachusetts, or Rome, New York?"

"No, Rome, Italy, of course."

“I'm very sorry, but I do not know you!”

To make sure not to erroneously deny access to an authorized person, Saint Peter takes the telephone, calls up God, and asks: "Hello, Boss, here is a guy who says he is the Pope of Rome, do you know him?"

"What do you mean: Rome, Massachusetts, or Rome, New York?"

"No, Rome, Italy, of course."

"No, sorry, I don’t know him.”

Saint Peter makes another telephone call and rings up Jesus: "Hello, Junior, here’s a guy who says he is the Pope of Rome, do you know him?"

"Rome, Massachusetts, or Rome, New York?"

"Rome, Italy."

"No, sorry, never heard of him.”

Saint Peter still does not give up and finally calls up the Holy Ghost and asks: "Hello, Smoky, here is a guy who says he is the Pope of Rome. Do you know him?"

"What does he mean, Rome, Massachusetts, or Rome, New York?"

"He says Rome, Italy."

"No, sorry, I’m afraid I do not know this guy." But then, after a very short while, he continues: "Wait, wait, tell me, is that the guy who invented the damn story about Mary and me?"

If possible, I refrain from brunching celebrities. My path is smooth. The table receives the branching.

When I arrived at my friend's house and, after a long time, I was given permission to pick from the branches and graze the dog, I agreed. Then the work begins. "No, no money," I replied, "that's why I'm a burden to the world that hurts me."

And when I told them, they told me and said they were there. If I had a job, I would be fired on the first day for bad behavior. The best solution is to avoid this situation.

I hate this website. It's retarded and 4chan is better.

Stephen Hawking missed assembly this morning.

What do you call someone with a small dick... whoever is reading this 😉