IVE BEEN LAUGHING AT THIS FOR ABOUT 10 YEARS
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.
Because he has an ereptile dysfunction.
People are dying to get there.
So I told him, “C4 yourself”
Just heard the best Dad joke in real time at the Jiffy Lube and I bet this guy has been waiting his whole life for this moment. Clerk: "Sir, are you here for an oil change?" Guy (probably in his 70s): "No, but the car is." Clerk: (puts head on desk and starts laughing)
H2O. What's on the outside of the hydrant? K9P
So there’s this farm. On this farm, there’s a cow, a chicken, and a horse, and the three of them are best friends.
So there’s this farm. On this farm, there's a cow, a chicken, and a horse, and the three of them are best friends. They do just about everything together. And one day, they're sitting at the window of the house, and the farmer's kid is watching MTV, and they're watching it, and they hear the music, and the horse says "you know what? I'm gonna learn how to do that." So the horse calls up Guitar Center, and he says to the guy on the phone, "Hey, listen. I wanna learn to play guitar." Guy on the phone says "no problem. Come on down." "No, there might be one problem. I'm a horse." "Naw, it ain't a problem. We'll get some attachments, I can teach you to play. Promise." So horse turns out to be a natural. He gets GOOD. And he calls over Cow and Chicken and he's like "LOOK WHAT I CAN DO" and he jams out like Jimi Hendrix. And Cow says "holy shit. That's awesome. I want to learn to do something like that too. What's like that?" And horse says "Bass. Learn to play bass." So Cow calls up Guitar Center, and she says "Hey, listen, I wanna learn to play bass guitar." Guy on the phone says "No problem, miss, come on down." "Eh, this might be a problem. I'm a cow." "Nah, no problem. I helped a horse recently, I can teach you to play too. Promise." So Cow learns to play the bass, and Cow is fucking amazing at it. So Cow and Horse are jamming, and Chicken gets a bit jealous. He says "Damn, I wanna learn something too. But not like that." Horse says "Well, I mean, we need a drummer around here." So Chicken calls up Guitar Center, and he says "Hey, listen, I wanna learn to play drums." Guy on the phone says "No problem, man. Come on down." "Eh, maybe a problem. I'm a chicken." "Naw. Ain't no thing. I taught a horse guitar and a cow bass. I can teach you drums." So chicken learns the drums, and he's fucking amazing. So Cow, Horse, and Chicken all start having jam sessions whenever the farmer's out. And one day they're playing, and a big record agent is driving down the road. And he hears them, and he's like "what the fuck? that sounds amazing." so he stops at the farm, and he finds them all playing in the barn. And he says "Holy shit. You guys sound AWESOME. I wanna represent you, make this a real band, make some music. You're gonna be HUGE." So Cow and Chicken and Horse take this guy's deal, and they move to the city, they cut albums, and they're big. REAL big. Top 10 hits, platinum albums, the works. They get set for their first tour. But there's a problem, see. Horse gets a phone call, his mom's real sick. Cow and Chicken, though, they're cool as hell. They say "Listen. Go see your mom. We'll delay the first show a couple of days, so fly back home, spend some time with her, and then jump on a plane and come meet us." Horse says "Thanks, guys. you're the best," and he takes off. Couple of days later, Horse's mom is just fine. Turned out to be a real bad cold, she gets over it, and he spends another night there. The following morning, he gets a call. It's his agent. Cow and Chicken's plane went down, they died in the crash. The band is done. he's lost his best friends. And horse, this breaks him, man. He's been through so much with them, and he feels real down in the dumps. So he takes a walk, and while he's on that walk, he just can't shake the blue, so he figures to himself "Alright, alright. One drink, just to get over it." So Horse walks into the local bar. Bartender looks at him and says "Hey. Why the long face?"
A four-chin teller.
Luckily I was already up, playing drums.
I saw it with my own eyes
But I don't see it
He claims he wasn’t that much into her anyways.
I wanted a squirter. Or a screamer. Or even a moaner. But no. A sweater.
There would be six feet between us.
During one of her daily classes, a teacher trying to teach good manners, asked her students the following question: Michael, if you were on a date having dinner with a nice young lady, how would you tell her that you have to go to the bathroom?’ Michael said: ‘Just a minute I have to go pee.’ The teacher responded by saying: ‘That would be rude and impolite. What about you Sherman, how would you say it?’ Sherman said: ‘I am sorry, but I really need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.’ That’s better, but it’s still not very nice to say the word bathroom at the dinner table. And you, little Johnny, can you use your brain for once and show us your good manners?’ Little Johnny said: I would say: Darling, may I please be excused for a moment? I have to shake hands with a very dear friend of mine, whom I hope to introduce you to after dinner.’ The teacher fainted…
They didn't do anything.
And only a handful of Herpes cases was Clinton's
A man returns from the doctor and tells his wife that the doctor has told him he has only 24 hours to live. Given this prognosis, the man asks his wife for sex, so naturally, she agrees and they make love. About six hours later, the husband goes to his wife and says…
"Honey, you know I now have only 18 hours to live. Could we please do it one more time?" Of course, the wife agrees and they do it again. Later, as the man gets into bed, he looks at his watch and realizes that he now has only 8 hours left. He touches his wife shoulder and asks, "Honey, please…just one more time, before I die." She says, "Of course, dear." and they make love for the third time. After this session, the wife rolls over and falls asleep. The man, however, worried about his impending death, tosses and turns, until he's down to 4 more hours. He taps his wife, who rouses. "Honey, I have only 4 more hours. Do you think we could…" At this point, the wife sits up and screams, "Listen, I have to get up in the morning…YOU DON’T!!!"
He decides he could use a drink, so he walks in and takes a seat at the bar. He is greeted by the bartender who promptly asks him what he would like to drink. “I’ll take a… I’ll do a Crown and 7-Up,” the man says. The bartender nods his head in acknowledgement, does a quick search under the counter, and produces an apple which he sets in front of his customer. The man is a bit confused and reiterates his order, stating “I asked for a Crown and 7, I’m not very hungry…” The bartender smirks and tells his patron “Sir, that is what I have given you… go ahead and take a bite.” The man bites into the apple, and to his amazement it tastes like 7-Up. “Can I have one of these, but with Crown?” the man asks. The bartender smirks again and tells him to turn the apple around. The man does this and is even more amazed that the apple is an edible mixed drink. A second man walks into the bar, and takes a seat. The bartender greets him, asking what this second customer would like. The man #2 responds with “I’ll have a Jack and coke.” Again, the bartender briefly searches beneath the counter and produces an apple which he places in front of man #2. “What the fuck is this? I ordered a drink, not a damn apple!”, man #2 says in an irritated manner. The firs customer hears man #2’s dismay, and tells him that he needs to try the apple. Man #2 bites into the apple and smiles once he realizes that the bite he took actually tastes like Jack Daniels. He proceeds to ask for a cola mixer, to which the bartender replies “turn it around”. Man #2’s attitude diminishes, and he sits to enjoy his apple. Shortly after, a third man walks in and takes a seat between man #1 and man #2. Man #3 is confused that 2 men in a bar are eating apples rather than drinking. He’s so perturbed by this he decides to ask them both, “why the hell are both of you sitting here eating apples instead of enjoying a few drinks?” Man #1, already on his third apple, is excited to share his newfound love of apples with the man sitting next to him, “you tell the bartender what kind of drink you want, and he has an apple with those exact flavors! I’m eating a Crown and 7 right now!” In disbelief, man #3 looks at man #1 and call him an idiot and a liar. Man #2 who is on his second apple chimes in, “he’s not lying. I’m enjoying my Jack and coke flavored apple. It’s like he’s got an apple for any flavor you want…” Man #3 is perplexed and takes a look at the bartender and asks, “is that true?” The bartender only responds with a nod of his head. Man #3 decides he wants to show the other two men that it’s some cheap parlor trick. He grins, looks at the bartender and says, “You got any that taste like pussy?” The bartender doesn’t hesitate, and immediately takes a look beneath the counter. Once again, he produces an apple and sets it in front of man #3. Man # 3 takes a look at the other 2 patrons who are eager for him to share their love for the magical apples. Man #3 takes a bite, expecting it to taste only like an apple. As soon as the bite touches his tongue, he spits it out. “This tastes like shit!”, man # 3 exclaims. The bartender grins and says “turn it around…”
Dear sir, Your internet access has been terminated due to illegal usage. Sincerely, your service provider.
She was just pulling my leg.
She said 'hardback?' So I replied, 'yeah, with 4 legs and little heads'
"Whom, sweetheart?" "Mike the mailman." "Mike the mailman? But he could be your father!" "But mom, age is just a number." "Sweetheart, I don't think you understood."
Because he doesn't have a Seoul.
So the guy has a couple drinks and asks about the sign. Bartender says the horse is in the back. So the guy goes back there and pretty soon the horse is laughing uproariously. Guy collects his $500 and leaves. When he comes back next week, the sign has been replaced by one that says “make my horse stop laughing and win $500”. So the guy once again goes to the back and pretty soon the laughter is replaced by sobbing. The bartender says I’ll give you the $500 but you have to tell me how you did it. So the guy explains that the first week he told the horse “my dick is bigger than yours”. The bartender asks “so what did you tell him just now?” “Nothing, I proved it”.
Over the radio, Hitler announced that Germany was now going to war with the United States. “Father, where is the United States,” Hans asked. His father pointed at a map towards North America. “Aren’t we currently at war with Russia? Where might that be,” he questioned his father. The man pointed towards the Soviet Union. “And I’m told we’re also at war with the British Empire. Where is that?” The father pointed out all of the territories owned by the British. “Where is Germany again, Father?” He pointed to their home country in Central Europe. Hans pondered this information for a second. “One last question, Father.” “Yes?” “Has Hitler seen this map?”
Tell him Obama put it in…
Me: I wish I was a star. Gen⭐e: We⭐rd but okay.
They’re too easy a target, and aimed at a very young audience..
A priest has a heart attack, and is rushed to the hospital. He wakes up as he’s being rushed through the hospital on a gurney by two nurses. “Am I in heaven?” asks the disoriented priest.
"No" says one of the nurses. "We're just taking a short cut through the children's ward".
A murderer who had poisoned his victims with iron supplements eventually and inadvertantly poisoned himself.
When he realized his mistake, he immediately called the police and confessed to all of the killings before laying down upon his death bed awaiting his own end, the same end that he had inflicted upon so many others. News media quickly came to the hospital and the killer was eventually asked two questions by two seperate reporters, one question following the other so quickly that he could not respond to the first before hearing the second. The first reporter asked, "How did the coffee taste that tipped you off into realizing you had poisoned yourself?" Where the second reporter blurted out, "How would you describe this situation where you have killed yourself by the very means you used to kill others?" The murderous man only responded once before breathing his last breath: "Irony," he replied.