Why can’t orphans fly? Because they’re still winging it.
According to all known laws of aviation,
there is no way a bee should be able to fly.
Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.
The bee, of course, flies anyway
because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.
Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black.
Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little.
Barry! Breakfast is ready!
Coming!
Hang on a second.
Hello?
- Barry? - Adam?
- Can you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up.
Looking sharp.
Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those.
Sorry. I'm excited.
Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son.
A perfect report card, all B's.
Very proud.
Ma! I got a thing going here.
- You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me!
- Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye!
Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house!
Alicia: I said no already, quit it. You are thirsty, leave me alone creep.
Nathan: I wanna sex YOU.
Alicia: I LOVE DICK bud, you're *WEIRD*.
Nathan: WE-WE
Alicia: WEE-WEE?
Nathan: YES YES YES LETS FUCK NOW TAKE them panies off u said yes well in french but u said yes
Alicia: U tricked me I ain fucking u
Nathan: *SEX ME!! BITCH SEX ME OH PLEASE SEX ME SEX ME* *screaming saying it*
Alicia: *WEIRD*
Nathan: Dick ten inches and i geuss u cant call me *10 inched big long dick nathan* your lose
Alicia: WHAT NO.... wait? 10 inches yess
cauh!.cauh! ummm umm long dick goood unmmm couh coun ccccchhou
nathan: why do i have the urge to stick a chicken wing up yo pussy
cuugh umm
God creates a wasp :) God: Okay, so make it reeeeally tiny. Like less than half a fly. Angel: okay... a bug. God: now give it’s face a sword, but it has a hole so it’s basically a mouth. Angel: weird.. but okay... God: and give it wings. Angel: eh, not half bad Go- God: NOW MAKE IT EAT THE BLOOD OF ALL LIVING ANIMALS AND HUMANS Angel: *shook* o-okay God: okay. Now make sure whenever a human is bit it feels the pain of a million suns burning it, making it scratch until it bleeds out. Angel: .-. God: and make sure it also transfers diseases through the species. Give ‘em a taste ‘o that! *evil grin* Angel: *cries* Angel: *whispers; I’m so sorry..*
Q: What has two wings and a halo?
A: An Asian phone call, "Wing, Wing, Halo?"
I know this isn't the real chicken wing song, but my version...
"Chicken wing, chicken wing, I want your mommy. Slap her with my hairy salami while she's still yawning."
Make your own chicken wing song and put it in the comments... :)
Why can't Asian people use a telephone?
Because they might wing the wrong number.
A man decides one day that it is time to buy a pet. He goes to the pet store, looks around and sees a beautiful parrot, sitting quietly on a stick in his cage. Yet the beast has no feet or paws. "What is the matter with you?" the man thinks aloud.
"Well, that's how I was born, I'm actually a faulty parrot," says the bird.
"Haha," the man laughs, "it seems like that parrot understands what I'm saying and even answers!"
"I understand everything you say, I am extremely intelligent and very well educated," says the bird.
"Well, if you're so smart then tell me how you can stay on your stick without legs."
"Well," says the parrot, "it's a bit embarrassing, but okay, I wrap my little parrot penis around the stick, like a hook, but I hide that with my thick feathers."
"Wow, you really understand everything I say, don't you?"
"Yes, yes," replies the bird, "and I speak Spanish and English fluently, I can speak on a level about almost everything, politics, religion, sport, and philosophy, and I specialize in bird science, you should buy me, I am also a very good friend for you."
The man looks at the price tag, 200 euros is on it. "Sorry, I cannot afford that."
"Psst," whispers the parrot as he beckons the man with his wing closer. "Nobody wants me because I do not have legs, just bid 25 euros and you can take me with you."
The man offers 25 euros and walks 5 minutes later with the parrot out of the store. A few weeks pass. The parrot is sensational. He is fun and interesting, gives good advice, is sympathetic to everyone, in short; the perfect roommate and friend. One day the man comes home from work and the parrot says "Pssssssssssst" while he beckons his wing again. The man comes close to the cage. "I do not know if I should tell you this," says the parrot, "but it's about your wife and the postman."
"What!?" says the man.
"Well, the postman came to the door and your wife greeted him in a nothing disguised nightgown and kissed him flat on the mouth."
"And then," the man hisses, "What happened then?"
"Well, the postman came in, grabbed her nightgown and started caressing her everywhere."
"My God," says the now furious man, "And what else did they do?"
"Then he took off her nightgown, went through his knees and started to lick her everywhere, starting at her breasts and getting further and further down."
"And then, what happened, what else did they do?" the man screams.
"No idea," says the papgaai, "I got a boner and thundered off my stick..."
One time, Little Johnny heard his parents "wrestling" in their bed. So the next morning, he went to rape all the little girls in school. This then led to his demise.
No girls told on him, but when he grew up, he was a raper. He never stopped. In total, "little" Johnny had over 31 sons that he didn't know about. When he was sentenced to jail, he raped all the inmates despite his small figure. He was then sent to the death sentence, "eagle wing" torture style.
His parents were happy he died, and the morbid rapist was put down, never to return again. However, all the sons had his genes, including his MINDSET. They then became a cult and shot down 2014 cops, 471 military members and 72951 males and females. The kids, you ask? Only the males were spared, and taught how to operate the guns. All but 419 females were killed. They soon became the world's strongest empire. No one could stop Little Johnny's sons. NO ONE.
What has two wings and a halo?
A Chinese telephone. (Wing, wing, halo.)
Why is there no phone in China?
Too many wings, too many wongs; might wing wrong number.
Ever wonder why pandas are endangered? Well, China's overcrowded, and therefore they're starving. They have to eat...
Panda: "My god. They're coming! Run! They're hungry! Run! Roll down the hill!"
Chinese People At Bottom Of Mountain With Spears: "Ching chong wing bong KABOB!!!"
Did you know hospitals have an entire wing for free dead babies? It’s called the abortion center.
Why didn't Stephen Hawking ever eat chicken wings? Because he didn't exist.
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.
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...
