I’m a cashew
He told me to go to the back door, down the dark alley and give the woman there 20 bucks. So I go outside and hand a 20 to the woman there and started getting busy. After a few minutes, a cop walks past and shines a flashlight on us and says "What the hell are you doing?" and I said "Having sex with my wife." He said "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that was your wife." and I said "Neither did I till you shined a light on her."
But I can never get a straight answer.
Last night, for example, I couldn't fall asleep because the rain kept telling me to go fuck myself.
“I don’t know why, but I’m afraid that this room might be bugged with hearing devices.” the girlfriend tells her boyfriend. “That’s crazy, there’s nothing to be worried about.” the man replies. The girl insists, so he starts to search the room. He looks in all of the drawers, under the TV, and behind the curtains. When he pulls the rug up, to his utter disbelief, he finds a suspicious looking disc. “Wow, you might be right!” the man says as he unscrews the disc from the floor. The next morning, they head to the front desk to check out of their room. “You guys must’ve had a good time last night” the clerk says laughing. Angry and confused, the man asks “AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT?!” The clerk replies “Well, on the floor below you, the entire chandelier came down.”
Luckily for me, it was a soft drink.
They LAVA good joke!
She really wanted a daughter.
We now call him Dr.Awkward.
I don't know and I don't care.
Two 90 year old men, Mike and Joe, have been friends all of their lives. When it's clear that Joe is dying, Mike visits him every day. One day Mike says, "Joe, we both loved football all our lives, and we played football on Saturdays together for so many years. Please do me one favour, when you get to Heaven, somehow you must let me know if there's football there." Joe looks up at Mike from his death bed," Mike, you've been my best friend for many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favour for you. Shortly after that, Joe passes on. At midnight a couple of nights later, Mike is awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to him, "Mike–Mike." "Who is it? asks Mike sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?" "Mike–it's me, Joe." "You're not Joe. Joe just died." "I'm telling you, it's me, Joe," insists the voice. "Joe! Where are you?" "In heaven", replies Joe. "I have some really good news and a little bad news." "Tell me the good news first," says Mike. "The good news," Joe says," is that there's football in heaven. Better yet, all of our old friends who died before us are here, too. Better than that, we're all young again. Better still, it's always spring time and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play football all we want, and we never get tired." That's fantastic," says Mike. "It's beyond my wildest dreams! So what's the bad news? "You're on the team for this Sunday's match!"
So the three scientists, Heisenberg, Schrödinger, and Ohm are in a car on the highway. They get pulled over by a cop and the cop goes up to Heisenberg who is driving and asks “do you know how fast you were going?” Heisenberg says, “no, but I know where I am”. The cop replies “well you were going 70 in a 35 zone” and Heisenberg says “great! Now I’m lost!” Anyways, the cop is suspicious so asks to check the trunk of the car. He comes back and says “hey, you know there’s a dead cat back there?” and Schrödinger replies “great! You’ve ruined the whole thing!”. So the cop is fed up, he pulls Heisenberg out and arrests him, and does the same with Schrödinger, but had a problem with Ohm because he resisted.
Someone who’s career is in ruins
A polar bear
I was shocked
A cop pulls over an old lady for speeding on a highway. He asks for her driver’s license and registration.
When she opens her wallet, he notices a conceal-carry permit. He asks, “Ma’am, do you have a weapon in your possession at this time?” She responds that she has a .38 Special in her purse. And a .45 in her glove box. And a 9mm Glock in the center console. And a shotgun in the trunk. “Jesus, lady,” says the cop. “What are you so afraid of?” The old lady looks him in the eye and says, “Not a fucking thing.”
Which is a really weird way to start a conversation if you ask me.
On the right palm, on the forehead, on the left palm, and on the abdomen. The first victim is discovered in the Florida Everglades. 0, 8, 2 on his hands and forehead. 5 on his abdomen. “We believe the numbers may be significant,” a uniformed man reads from a prepared statement to the press, “but we cannot say for sure at this time.” Detective Pierce has seen more faces of death than any man should ever have to endure, but this case—this seems different, somehow. Another victim is discovered in the marshes of Louisiana soon after. 0, 8, 0 on her hands and forehead. 19 on her abdomen. Are they connected? Law enforcement in Louisiana contact the agency in Florida. Criminal psychologists and cipher experts are called in to decode the strange numerical messages. Nothing yet. There isn’t enough data. Detective Pierce knows, if there is a deeper meaning, it will only surface with more bodies. To solve the murder, more must be committed. A cruel irony. A third victim emerges, and a macabre certainty is apparent—a serial killer. 0, 6, 9; 2 “What could it mean?” Detective Pierce ponders over a table littered with dozens of photographs. The psychological stress begins to weigh on him. He first began the investigation into the mysterious number killings, and he now makes it his mission to discover the secret of these symbols and put an end to this evil. More victims. 0, 7, 1; 6 0, 6, 5; 10 0, 7, 8; 8 0, 7, 3; 12 0, 6, 9; 4 0, 7, 8; 9 “069 repeats!” the authorities notice after the ninth victim is discovered. “It’s certainly a code!” “And here! The victims with 8 and 9 on the abdomen have identical numbers on the hands and forehead too: both 0, 7, 8.” Detective Pierce broods over this information. He locks himself away with the numbers, poring through literature about ciphers and codes. He devises complex algorithms to analyze the data, looking for patterns. Pierce has always put work before his family. His colleagues will all tell you that. But the domestic strain from the number killings is pushing his relationships to the brink of collapse. Another body in Florida. 0, 8, 5; 17 Pierce is on the scene, crouching over the Number Killer’s latest conquest, examining the slapdash 17 scrawled unceremoniously on the abdomen. “Detective Pierce.” A voice from behind him. Pierce stands and peels the purple nitrile gloves from his hands and glowers at the intruder on his crime scene. “Agent Rickson. Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my crime scene now, sir. I’ll need a full briefing.” “The hell it is!” Pierce snaps back. “I’ve been working these killings from day one! You think you can just come in here with your federal mandate and expect me to catch you up on all the work my people have done?!” Agent Rickson hands Pierce a bound legal envelope. “You’ve been relieved.” “This isn’t over. You’re gambling with people’s lives…sir.” Detective Pierce practically spits the final word at the agent’s feet before snatching the envelope and rushing off the scene. Over the next two weeks, eight more victims. Pierce’s anxiety has left him unable to leave his office. He hasn’t been home in three days. Though he’s officially off the case, he’s still haunted by the numbers and mounting body count. His work has suffered to the point that his superiors have issued reprimands. At his wits’ end, Detective Pierce pulls officer Malloy into his office. Malloy is a rookie who’s eager to please and has a knack for numbers. “I need you on special assignment, rookie.” Pierce is looking pensively out his office window when Malloy enters. “Special assignment, sir?” “Secret, special assignment, Malloy.” He turns and places a sealed envelope on the table. “I need you to collect everything we have on the Number Killings. Meet me at the address enclosed here. Tomorrow night. Midnight. Tell no one.” “But sir, I thought you had been reliev-” “Dammit, rookie! Do you want more people to die?! We need to figure out this nonsense now or we’re going to end up with dead bodies in triple digits, son!” Malloy reluctantly agrees. He smuggles boxes of files and pictures out of the precinct late the next night and meets Pierce at an abandoned warehouse to go over the information. For hours, the two sit at opposite tables, running numbers, delving into research, and analyzing the evidence, late into the early hours of the morning. With a sudden energetic vigor, Malloy springs from his chair and cries out, “ASCII!” Startled out of his analytic trance, Pierce inquires, “What did you say, Malloy?” “ASCII! It’s a computer language that uses numbers to represent letters! Look!” Malloy pulls up a reference sheet and begins arranging numbers on Pierce’s desk. “If we take the abdomen numbers as the order, and the palm and foreheadnumbers as the code for the letter…” “Malloy, you’re a genius!” Working furiously, Pierce and Malloy clear a space on the dusty warehouse floor to lay out the pictures in sequence: Abdomens: 6, 12, 17… G, I, U… 4, 9, 11… E, N, G… In minutes, the men have spread 76 photos over a 10 foot square of the warehouse floor and scratched nervous letters on ripped sheets of notebook paper under each group corresponding to the symbol. As they finish, Malloy stands back to survey the message. “No…” All blood drains from his face. His legs go weak, and he collapses onto his knees. “It can’t…It just…It can’t! Detective Pierce is wide-eyed next to Malloy’s broken form, mouth agape. A sound from the warehouse wall rattles the building as a dozen federal agents storm the facility. “Mother of God…” Pierce doesn’t even notice the agents. His unbroken stare is consumed by the message on the dusty warehouse floor. Agent Rickson grabs hold of Detective Pierce. “You’re under arrest for interfering with a federal investigation and tampering with evidence.” Malloy sheepishly confesses. “I told them everything! I told them you wanted me to take the evidence. It was a setup. I was worried about you. I’m sorry! But I never thought…oh God! What can we do?!” Pierce is handcuffed, and as he is dragged backward from the grotesque mosaic of death, he laughs in spite of himself, “You monster…” As he comes back to his senses, Pierce begins tearing at the agents pulling him away. He lets out a shrill, animalistic shriek… “YOU MONSTER!!” The other agents crowd around the space on the floor that has itself become a crime scene, and in an eerie silence, they collectively ponder the ethereal message left by the elusive Numbers Killer: “NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP” EDIT (TLDR): Thanks for the support, and also some people are asking for a tldr because (obviously) it's really long. Here's a video to basically sum it up. Have a nice day. Also, thank you /u/about_tyme for ASCII number edits.
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Robber: Put all the money in the bag or you’re Geography! Teller: Don’t you mean History? Robber: Don’t change the subject!
Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it.
'Cos you're breathtaking..
They’re really good carriers
Which I really didn't appreciate.
They were cooked in Greece.
They were out standing in their field
Boy, do I have some news for her.
A: She outgrew her B shells.
He got a sentence.
Me: No. I think most of them smell that way.
For Hispanic attacks.
… There used to be two of them, and now everyone is REAL SENSITIVE about it
He breaks into a house to look for money and guns and finds a young couple in bed. He orders the guy out of bed and ties him to a chair, while tying the girl to the bed he gets on top of her, kisses her neck, then gets up and goes into the bathroom. While he's in there, the husband tells his wife: "Listen, this guy's an escaped convict, look at his clothes! He probably spent lots of time in jail and hasn't seen a woman in years. I saw how he kissed your neck. If he wants sex, don't resist, don't complain, do whatever he tells you. Satisfy him no matter how much he nauseates you. This guy is probably very dangerous. If he gets angry, he'll kill us. Be strong, honey. I love you." To which his wife responds: "He wasn't kissing my neck. He was whispering in my ear. He told me he was gay, thought you were cute, and asked me if we had any vaseline. I told him it was in the bathroom. Be strong honey. I love you too!"
He didn’t peel too well