Dave got a new job at the suicide hotline. The manager shows him to his desk and Dave has a seat.
The manager says, "Remember! Your job is to make sure that the person at the other end of the line does not kill himself, no matter what! That's the one thing you have to do!"
Dave says "No problem! I will do exactly what you just told me!" and the manager leaves him to his job.
A few minutes, later Dave's phone rings.
"Hello?" Dave answers. No response for a few seconds, then a voice appears.
"My wife cheated on me." a man says. The man on the other end of the line is clearly depressed.
"I'm sorry to hear that." Dave says.
"I found out that she's been doing it for months; she says I don't treat her well enough. She's filing for divorce and threatening to take the kids from me. I don't know what to do. I just took up drinking and gambling, the pain goes away at first but it always comes back. I don't think I can even afford to see a psychiatrist; money is tight as it always is. I wish I could manage my finances better... I just don't see any way out. I think the only thing I can do that makes sense is to just kill myself."
Dave pauses for a moment, thinks, and then he asks:
"Wouldn't it make more sense to kill her?"
In a world of feline folly, There lived a cat with a secret, A taste for adventure and mischief, And a love for KFC's golden treat.
With eyes like emerald jewels, And fur as black as night, This feline prowled the streets, In search of a savory delight.
Oh, how it yearned for chicken, Crispy and finger-lickin' good, But the cat knew it had to be sly, To satisfy its craving like it should.
Through alleyways it stealthily tiptoed, With nimble paws and a stealthy glide, Until it stumbled upon a secret, That made its hunger amplified.
A stash of KFC's golden eggs, Hidden away from prying eyes, An accidental treasure trove, A feast fit for a feline paradise.
With each stolen egg devoured, The cat's satisfaction grew, The taste of crispy breading, And juicy chicken, it knew.
Word soon spread of this food bandit, A legend of a cat so bold, Whispers echoed through the town, Of the one who stole the KFC gold.
But the cat with the KFC get eggs, Remained a mystery to all, A phantom of the night it became, Leaving no trace, no trail to recall.
And so, it continues its nightly quest, For chicken that satisfies its soul, The cat with the KFC get eggs, Forever on the prowl, never to be controlled.
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.
In a bowl of golden delight, I savored each bite so bright, The potato salad, oh so fine, Left me feeling oh so divine.
The diced potatoes, oh so neat, In a dressing so cool and sweet, With onions and eggs, a treat, My taste buds did dance and greet.
The mayonnaise, a creamy dream, With mustard's zesty scheme, Together they did blend so well, My senses did take a spell.
The herbs, a fragrant delight, Added flavor with their might, Parsley and dill, a perfect pair, In this salad beyond compare.
So here's to the potato salad, A culinary work of art, That left me full and satisfied, And in my heart, a special part.
Neo-Confederates all claim to be about "heritage" not "hate". Well, if your heritage consists of Kelly Clarkson, riding on siblings, and treating Donald Trump as if he's the second coming, then it really sucks to be you.
Texter 1: You know People treat me like a god
Texter 2: How?
Texter 1: They ignore my existence unless they need something
Why don’t skeletons ever go trick or treating? Because they have no-body to go with.
In the heart of a circular, creamy delight, there exists a void, a singular absence that adds to its charm. This hollow space, a perfect round, is a testament to the artistry of nature and man's culinary skills. The hole, a silent observer, bears witness to the transformation of the substance around it, from a liquid state to a firm, yet supple form. It's a silent testament to the passage of time, a symbol of patience and the magic of fermentation. The void, despite its emptiness, contributes to the overall aesthetic, making the slice a visual treat. It's a playful peek-a-boo with the world beyond, a window that adds mystery and intrigue. In the end, the hole is not just a void, but a character in the story of this culinary masterpiece, a silent protagonist that adds depth and character to the narrative. It's a testament to the beauty of imperfection, a celebration of the unique and the unconventional.
So, gender equality is the a woman can do anything a man can right? That they should be treated the same? So therefore if she swings on me, I could punch her into the twin towers because of gender equality. I love gender equality.
I can make a living with the Treat Yo self budget
Yet I can’t use the Help yo self budget
Hi! Welcome to Papa John's abortion clinic where yesterday's meat is todays treat. How may I be of service?
Hey, guys! Just a quick reminder to spread kindness today. And treat others how you want to be treated! Rate your day scale of 1-10 in the comments below. Mine was about a 7. Also, can you guys please comment what you guys want me to cover in these little messages? Sometimes it's hard to tell if you guys like that I'm doing this kind of stuff or not.
My doctor prescribed a new drug to treat my depression. It’s called Enditol.
Lemme treat you like I treat my homework slam you on my desk and do you all night.
dont treat her like a gold pump when shes treating you like a grey pistol, put down a launch pad and rotate 💯
IN memory of Michael Jackson, various ice cream companies are introducing the jackson Chocolte ice cream, it is either 50 year old cream mixed in with 10 year old nuts, or 7 year old vanilla ice cream with 50 year old chocolate drizled on 4 year old tiny nuts.
Treat me like a joke and I will leave you like it's funny
Women treat me like a god They ignore me till they need something
