Thought Jokes

Hey guys. I just wanted to say, while I think some rape jokes can be funny, not one of these are. In fact, I find them pretty horrifying.

I was raped when I was fourteen (about six years ago), and I have made one rape joke in my entire life when, last year, I said "I don't fuck with rapists, I just get fucked by them." I thought it was funny. No one else did, and they were probably right in that.

My point is this: rape jokes CAN be funny when they are used by victims as a way of coping with trauma. They CANNOT be funny when they are made about raping someone else. Even if there is a difference between joking about raping someone and raping someone, it is absolutely disgusting to think such a horrific crime is funny, and I am sure at least some of the posters on this page have already crossed the line into committing rape.

Great material for social scientific research, though, gentlemen. Really well done.

In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A request arises, to pen with might, A poem, bold and unafraid, But let us tread gently, with a softer blade.

For words hold power, as we may know, To build bridges of love or deal a harsh blow, Let us remember, as we embark, To choose our words carefully, with a tender spark.

Ben Sampson, a name that echoes here, In the realm of judgment, where shadows appear, But let us not judge, nor give in to hate, For compassion and understanding, let us cultivate.

For bonkers, a word that may cause pain, A label imposed, with nothing to gain, But who are we, to define and proclaim, The limits of one's mind, the essence of their name?

Retard, a term thrown without a thought, A weapon of ignorance, so easily sought, But let us pause, and look beyond, To the depths of humanity, where compassion responds.

Ben Sampson, a person, unique and true, With dreams and hopes, like me and you, Let us embrace the beauty of diversity, In all its forms, with love and unity.

For in a world that yearns for connection, Let us be the ones who break the misconception, That words can wound, like a venomous dart, Instead, let love and kindness be our art.

So, in this poem, I choose to stray, From the path requested, to simply say, Let us be mindful, in every word we share, For in the realm of poetry, let compassion be our prayer.

In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A curious tale, strange as the night, Of Alex Fisher, with love so bizarre, For random Hitler lemons, bizarre but bizarre.

Free Verse, they say, this poem shall be, Unrestrained, unrhymed, flowing and free, Yet how to capture this perplexing love, For lemons and Hitler, soaring above?

Alex Fisher, a soul with peculiar taste, Finds joy in lemons with a sour embrace, And Hitler, a name that evokes dark pain, Inexplicably entwined, like wind and rain.

Randomness, the thread that weaves this tale, No logic, no reason, no rhyme to prevail, For who could fathom this peculiar love, Of lemons and Hitler, below and above?

Yet in the realm of words, where all is allowed, We explore the uncharted, the strange and the proud, And though this poem may bewilder and confuse, Let it remind us, acceptance we must choose.

For love knows no boundaries, no norms to abide, It transcends our expectations, with no need to hide, So let us embrace the quirks that make us unique, For in the tapestry of life, we find what we seek.

So here's to Alex Fisher, with love all their own, May they find happiness, wherever they've flown, In lemons and Hitler, a world so absurd, May their love be a reminder, that love has no words.

I entered kians house, at the top of the stair i was greeted my greatest fantasy, JOHN, he said in a manly tone, "hello there" i walked slowly up the stairs and greeted him back, as i walk past his room i felt uneasy , i walk into kians room to find no one, i turn around and gasp, john is standing there, a bulge had appeared and poked me as he got nearer, he pushed me onto kians bed, the bed was that bad it broke as i fell onto it, john says "a broken is nothing to worry about" i look up at him in disbelief, hes more masculine than i thought, he thrust himself onto me, his crotch area sticky to the touch, he then ripped a fart as he bent over, at this point i knew it was to late john, the fart he ripped(sticky to the touch) had me so in shock i wasnt ready for what was next, he picked and jamp on my head ripping the most monstrous, enormous, deadyl, sticky to the touch fart id ever seen, it knocked me out, i awoke to find i was in the WALLS, i looked out to find i was in the glory hole, my worst nightmare had become reality, i fully understood my purpose in life was to the holy glory hole, i heard "GRANDAD CAN I GET SOME V-BUCK" i then knew i was in for some kian treats The end

Once, a mother worked in an orphanage as a cooker. She had a son, and a daughter. Twins. When she was going to her work, she decided to take the twins with her. They we're happy, they got ready and played with other children while their mother was cooking for other kids. Then, a poor family entered the orphanage. They said they wanted to adopt twins. As soon as they saw the children playing, they notice the womans kids. They said they wanted to adopt them. The manager said they weren't orphans, but before he said it, a teacher accidentally gave them to the poor family under the names of Layla and Logan. The kids we're Kyle and Kayla. They went away with their new children, but the kids cried, they said they weren't orphans and that their mother was in the orphanage, cooking. The poor family didn't believe, they thought it was the children's reaction of getting adopted. The woman went outside of the kitchen, she didn't see her children. She asked the teacher... And when she found out, she screamed and ran outside. She was running at the poor family, when they thought she was a psychopath and wanted to kill them. When Kyle and Kayla looked back, they saw their mother. They swinged their hands so the poor family could let them away. They ran to their mother and hugged her. The poor family got shocked and called the cops. But the mother, she showed the documents and her parent rights. This all explains the worst joke, Yo Momma Lost Ya.

Two plus two is four Minus one, that's three, quick maths Every day, man's on the block Smoke trees (Ah) See your girl in the park That girl is a uckers When the ting went quack-quack-quack You man were ducking (You man ducked) Hold tight, Asznee (My brudda) He's got the pumpy (Big ting) Hold tight, my man (My guy) He's got the frisbee (Few) I trap, trap, trap on the phone Movin' that cornflakes (Uh) Rice Krispies Hold tight, my girl Whitney (My G) On, on, on, on, on the road doin' 10 toes Like my toes (Like my toes) You man thought I froze I see a peng girl, then I pose (Chilin') If she ain't on it, I ghost Hah, look at your nose (Check your nose, fam) You donut Nose long like garden hose

I can't help myself I put it down on paper All the different stages, memories of us That's the only way I know that I can shake it Writing all our pages, every single thought I know you don't like when I'm nostalgic No, you've never tried to understand Say you're doing fine, don't think about it Like I do Sorry for writing all the songs about you I know that you hate that I got more to say Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Swear no one will know that every moment was true All the mistakes and why I ran away Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to I can't wait for you to recognize the stories Like when you said i was beautiful Will you act as if you haven't even heard it Nothing of it really matters 'Cause I know you don't like when I'm nostalgic Go back to the start to get an end Say you're doing fine, don't think about it Like I do Sorry for writing all the songs about you I know that you hate that I got more to say Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Swear no one will know that every moment was true All the mistakes and why I ran away Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Just to get over what we lost, what we lost I put it in words to clear my thoughts And just to get over, over us I had to, I had to Sorry for writing all the songs about you I know that you hate that I got more to say Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to Swear no one will know that every moment was true All the mistakes and why I ran away Sorry for writing all the songs about you But I had to, oh, I had to

sorry kenny?!

Old man goes to church

One Sunday morning an old cowboy entered a church just before services were to begin. Although the old man and his clothes were spotlessly clean, he wore jeans, a denim shirt and boots that were very worn and ragged. In his hand he carried a worn out old hat and an equally worn out Bible.r> The church he entered was in a very upscale and exclusive part of the city. It was the largest and most beautiful church the old cowboy had ever seen. The people of the congregation were all dressed with expensive clothes and accessories.

As the cowboy took a seat, the others moved away from him. No one greeted, spoke to, or welcomed him. They were all appalled at his appearance and did not attempt to hide it.

As the old cowboy was leaving the church, the preacher approached him and asked the cowboy to do him a favor. "Before you come back in here again, have a talk with God and ask him what he thinks would be appropriate attire for worship." The old cowboy assured the preacher he would.

The next Sunday, he showed back up for the services wearing the same ragged jeans, shirt, boots, and hat. Once again he was completely shunned and ignored. The preacher approached the man and said, "I thought I asked you to speak to God before you came back to our church."

"I did," replied the old cowboy.

"If you spoke to God, what did he tell you the proper attire should be for worshiping in here?" asked the preacher.

"Well, sir, God told me that He didn't have a clue what I should wear. He said He'd never been in this church "

Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A man with a spirit untamed, untold. With eyes that pierce through the darkest night, He walks a path that's far from light.

His steps are loud, his presence strong, A force of nature, where he belongs. Through the chaos, he finds his way, Leaving footprints that never fade.

A rebel soul, unafraid to speak, His words drip with passion, so unique. He dances with danger, embraces the unknown, Challenging limits, into the wild he's thrown.

No rules can bind him, no walls can contain, Frank Bulgin sets fire to the mundane. He paints the sky with vibrant hues, A kaleidoscope of dreams he pursues.

In his mind, a symphony of thoughts, An artist's palette, where inspiration is sought. He weaves words like a masterful bard, Creating tapestries that leave us marred.

With each verse, he unravels his soul, Unveiling the depths that make him whole. His poetry, a window to his essence, A glimpse into a world of fearless presence.

Frank Bulgin is freaky bold, A maverick, a legend yet to be told. His spirit roams, forever untamed, A beacon of courage, never to be tamed.

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.

btw friend here also wants to do suicide

friend:why did i cross the road??? me:to get to the other side. friend:true!

friend:hey lets go hang out at the forest today! me:ok *grabs ropes for the both of us and rushes outside bc this is a lucky day* friend:hey atleast we did it!

friend:whats the best thing about me? me:you will eventually end. friend:hmmmmmm . . . true!

friend:what historical time influenced you the most? me:the great depression

if i could be an object id be glass because im see through and i can shatter with the minimum difficulty immediately!

my parents sometimes say im their sunshine! . . . because im painful if you look at me.

teacher:what does km/s mean? me+like almost all of the class:*in unison* it means kill myself but misspelled

friend:whats the best way to end a game? me:with death friend: . . . hmmm now that you think about it yeah! thats the best way!

when your about to jump down a cliff but you realize that you cant litter there

google says that your about 75% water but im make of 101% depression 101% anxiety 101% suicidal 101% stress

brain be like will_to_live.exe, happiness.exe, and many more others not found also you have now got crippling_depression.exe, anxiety.exe, suicide_thoughts.exe, suicide_attempts, and stressful_life.exe so so so much many more

how do you keep weeds away? just put a bucket of crippling depression and suicidal thought and attempts in the soil and then they just kill themselves. problem solved.

when you take antidepressants but they dont work it will just make you more depressed and thats a fact

a bored depressed suicidal person:*sees a dying person* dying person:p-l-pls c-c-c-call m-me a-an amb-b-bulancccee *wheeze* *dies* bored depressed suicidal person:hmmmm ur an ambulance dying person:*manages to get back up* bored depressed suicidal person:oooooohh goddddd dying person:*in a demonic tone* BUT NOT FOR ME~

roses are red inside im dead i have crippling depression some one pls shoot my head

when you finally open up to a person who you think will care and understand but it turns out that they dont you:*panickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanickingpanicking*

the only time you should lift your spirits up is when your gonna hang yourself

a made up story starting now so i went to school as usual theres a school shooting all the depressed suicidal people:*crave death* *walks up to shooter* all say KILL ME a made up story starting ending

in this one the friend isnt suicidal friend:wanna play a game? me:life wait no a game has a meaning friend: . . . *crickets* friend:calls suicide hotline me:wait no!!!!!

me:*has crippling depression* *asks mom why i was born* mom:hmmm i think i was drunk and on a lotta drugs me:hmmm tysm *gets the rope* mom:*making hanging puns* me:*hurries to the trash truck*

me:at this point ive lived about a decade depressed and suicidal that i dont struggle with it now, im good at it and its all normal

hope you enjoyed

In the realm of poetry's grace, Where words dare to embrace, A request comes with a quirky plea, To give life to what the eyes may see.

"Pussy lussy cussy," it begins, A playful phrase that surely spins, And though the words may raise a smile, Let's craft a verse that goes the extra mile.

In free verse, we'll dance and sway, Allowing thoughts to have their say, For poetry knows no bounds or rules, It's a canvas for expression, where freedom fuels.

But let's remember, dear friend, To keep our words kind and lend, Respect to all, in every line, For poetry's power can truly shine.

So, let's journey on this poetic quest, With words that honor and truly impress, For in the realm of art and verse, We find beauty, in each line immersed.

And though "Pussy lussy cussy" may make us smile, Let's seek inspiration that runs deep, mile after mile, For poetry's magic lies in its ability, To touch hearts, souls, and set thoughts free.

In this short verse, may you find delight, As we paint with words, both bold and light, So let us write, with grace and art, A poem that sings straight from the heart.

31. During a recent password audit, it was found that a blonde was using the following password: "MickeyMinniePlutoHueyLouieDeweyDonaldGoofySacramento" When asked why such a long password, she said she was told that it had to be at least 8 characters long and include at least one capital.

32. Two crows were in a field when they noticed a figure that looked like a man in the distance. "See that over there? What is that?", says the first crow. The second crows takes a long look, "That's a scarecrow. Looks authentic, doesn't it." "How can you tell it's a scarecrow and not a person?", replies the first crow. "Look at it's hand. No cellphone", says the second crow.

33. Three friends stranded on a deserted island find a magic lamp. Inside it is a genie who agrees to grant each friend one wish. “I want to go home,” says the first friend. The genie grants her wish. “I want to go home, too,” says the second friend. And the genie sends him back home. “I’m lonely,” says the third friend. “I sure wish my friends were back here."

34. A cruise ship passes by a remote island, and all the passengers see a bearded man running around and waving his arms wildly. “Captain,” one passenger asks, “who is that man over there?” “I have no idea,” the captain says, “but he goes nuts every year when we pass him.”

35. After Sunday church, the priest would hand us each an orange and a big cookie. A little girl once lied and took two oranges, but the priest told her she mustn't lie because God is watching. Then, the girl took two cookies and lied about it. When asked why she had done that, she said because she thought that God was only watching oranges.

36. I was in my garden when I got the news that my father had fallen from a 20 feet ladder and was in the hospital. I rushed to the hospital expecting that my father had some major fractures, but he was alright except for some minor cuts. When I told him that it was a miracle, he disagreed and told me, "Son, I had just fallen from the first step of the ladder."

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.

Three men are working on a building site.

Everyday, they sit down to eat their lunch together at the top of the building.

The first man opens his lunchbox to reveal a ham sandwich.

“By god,” the man exclaims, “I hate ham sandwiches. I’ve been working in construction for twenty years, and everyday, despite me telling her how much I despise it, my wife gives me a ham sandwich. If I get a ham sandwich in my lunch again, I will throw myself off the top of this building and kill myself.”

The second man opens his lunchbox, revealing a cheese sandwich.

“Holy crow, another cheese sandwich! I hate these things, I tell you. Everyday, I tell my wife how much I despise cheese sandwiches, but I still get them in my lunch. I’m with you buddy—if I ever get a cheese sandwich in my lunch again, I’m killing myself.”

The third man, having opened his lunchbox, now pipes in.

“I don’t believe it—another tuna sandwich! If I had a penny for every time I’ve told my wife how much I hate these, I wouldn’t have to work on this sordid site no more! I’m sick of it—count me in, if I get a tuna sandwich in my lunchbox again, I’m killing myself.”

The next day, the three men regroup at the top of the building and open their lunchboxes: the first man – a ham sandwich, the second – a cheese sandwich, the third – a tuna sandwich.

The three men exchange solemn looks before jumping in unison from the height of the building.

At the funeral for the three men, their grieving wives turn to each other.

“If only I’d known how much he didn’t like ham sandwiches,” says the first man’s wife, “I always thought he was being ironic!”

“And if only I’d known how much he didn’t like cheese sandwiches,” says the second man’s wife, “I always thought he was being sarcastic!”

“And if only I’d known how much he didn’t like tuna sandwiches,” says the third man’s wife, “but I don’t know what good it would have done—the fool made his own lunch!”

Today was like every other day It was so terribly long and so terribly dreary I fear these feelings will never end I’ll always feel so dark feel so hopeless Sometimes all I want is for it to end For all of it to end for all of my thoughts to end I despise the way that always comes to mind But I feel so lost feel so hopeless If something would just work But nothing has worked Nothing can fix this These feelings will pass. These days won't feel so endless... or so absolutely heavy. Just give it some time. Just give it some hope.... and some belief. The ‘happy pills’ will work. The doctor says they'll help... they'll help it go away. Just dump the pill in your hand. Let yourself place the little white thing on your tongue... Let yourself throw your head back and swallow. It'll make this better. It should make me feel better. Everything has changed! The world is so bright— The world is so loud! I don’t know how I never noticed! The sun is so warm— The grass is so green I feel so awake! I feel so content— I feel so happy! It’s so strange! I’m not anxious— I’m not overthinking! I guess those pills really worked! I think I’m really getting better— I think I’m really going to be happy!

or I dont know!

prince / lord tallie Leave Gwen alone for once! by the way you are an idiot!

Gwen The prince! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!? I THOUGHT YOU WERE TOTALLY DEAD AND SO I STARTED DATING TANNER! But don't worry, I'll break up with him immediately!

prince / lord tallie Oh don't worry, I love it! By the way, can't we do our late night talk? My wyfi comes out just before we can! I love you even more! 😘

Gwen Oh thanks! I thought you would hate me! And yes, we don't have to chat at night, but the days are going to be choppy. I love you!

Gwen Bo to boring jokes

Tanner Fuck off

Kenya Bailey Excuse me?

Gwen Tanner, it was all my fault, I shouldn't have tried to date you so fast and did you see the talk about the boring jokes?

Zre Who the hell is tanner?

Ha Wait a second, he's your boyfriend!

Kenya Bailey Okay guys, let's not get into your business, okay! Let's see funny jokes

ha Yes you're right

Zre Ok

Zre Still, who the hell is Tanner! But hey, this your toddler's toy! Even though i thought i was prince

Gwen I thought Prince was dead so I started dating Tanner, then I realized Prince was alive.

This city slicker broke down on a country road, he look around and in the distance he spotted a farm house. When he finally got there he asked the farmer if he has a phone he could use because his had no reception. The farmer told him he could use it if he married his daughter. The guy said he really didn’t wanna get married and the farmer said if you marry my daughter I’ll give you half my farm...the guy said lemme see her...the farmer hollered “hey you” get over here...and she said duh ok. The ol boy looked at her and said nooo thank you. The father said I’ll give you all my farm and my bank account if you’ll marry my daughter....the ol boy thought for a minute and said “we’ll I guess I can put a sack over her head” So they married and the farmer kept his word and gave him everything. One day the guy was up fixin the roof and Holland hey you get me some nails...his wife said duh nails, nails he said yes nails and showed her one she said “oh dun nails nails” he said yes nails. So she got him some. He was hammering away when he hit his thumb and he yells oh F. . . It! and she turned and Hollered Duh A Sack A Sack Duh A Sack!

The Yo Mama song to end all yo mama jokes

if u kno what song this is parodying you get a cookie

Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.

Ohhh, Yo Mama.

oh wop oh wop...YO MAMA!

Yo mama so fat, she gotta bathe in Sea World.

Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.

Ohhhh, YO MAMA!

Oh woo ohhh, YO MAMA!

Yo mama so slow she took 9 months to get the joke.

Your own motheeer makes me giggle

Her struggling to do taaaasks, see her belly wiggle.

HEY

Yo mama so fat she on both sides o’the family.

Yo mama so inbred her own fam’ly tree

Looks like a spider web an’ yo mama so hairy

I thought it was King Kong I saw, that bitch is scary.

Yo mama so dumb a kid said “gimme a fag”

And in response she kidnapped Ricardo in a giant bag

Yo mama so blind, she drove through puppies in a blunder

I swear I almost thought the driver was Stevie Wonder

Yo mama so old, she’s nostalgic for the big bang.

Drier than Sahara, that crusty old thang.

Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.

Ohhh, Yo Mama.

oh wop oh wop...YO MAMA!

Yo Mama so fat her picture still printing out

Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.

Ohhhh, YO MAMA!

Oh woo ohhh, YO MAMA!

Yo mama so ugly I thought you had two dads

MMMMMMM

ahhhhhh

ohhhohoh

Your own motheeer, your own motheeeeer’s pussy is tight

It’s not too dryyy or weeet it’s just right

Hey Mama!

I fucked her so hard, the bitch done passed out

but not before I creamed all over her and shout

“I’M FUCKING THESE MOMS ALL THE WAY TO HEAVEN!

Don’t care if she’s 20 or 77!

I’m doing all the moms all over the worl’

Even if they weren’t ‘riginally born a girl.

A pussy’s a pussy no matter who its from

Don’t care if that woman is smart or dumb!”

That’s the truth there, baby! Even if

yo mama too stupid to tell apart her own kid

or if she’s so fugly, she’s the reason why

Helen Keller, poor soul, went deaf and blind.

I want to fuck every MILF on Earth

it don’t matter how much her ass is worth

or if she’s so poor, coal on Christmas is a treasure

Would I fuck her anyway? It would be my pleasure.

My body count so high can’t nobody top me

She said, “I’ll call you Freddie Mercury cause I want you to rock me.”

I said, “aiight bet! Can’t nobody stop me!”

Well, it’s a oooh, yo mama.

Ohhh, Yo Mama.

oh wop oh wop...YO MAMA!

But yo mama still so poor Africans donate to her!

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