mY fAVOriTe shAKEespeaRE quOTE

…and they managed to shoot a deer. They started dragging the deer by the hind legs to get it back to their pick up truck. An experienced hunter saw them and said, "No, girls, you're doing it wrong. You're dragging against the grain of the deer's hair. If you drag by the antlers, you'll be pulling with the grain of the hair, and it will be much easier." So the two blondes started dragging their deer by the antlers. After about 20 minutes, one said to the other, "You know, that old guy was right! It's so much easier to drag the deer by the antlers, it's like it's just gliding along the ground." "Yeah, he was," said the other blonde. "But we sure are getting far away from our pick up."

Said Tom, being frank

I hope It's Paul. He's cute.

​ ​ The bartender says, "Seems as though you’ve got a major stuttering problem." ​ The man replies, "N-n-no k-k-k-idding!" ​ The bartender says, "I used to stutter, but my wife cured me. One afternoon she gave me oral sex three times in a row, and I haven’t stuttered since!" ​ The man says, "W-w-wow, th-th-that’s great to kn-kn-know…" ​ A week later, the same man walks in to the bar, and says, "G-g-gimme a b-b-beer." ​ The bartender says, "Why didn’t you try what I told you?" ​ "I d-d-did!" said the man, "It j-j-just d-d-didn’t w-w-work… ….b-b-but I m-m-must say, you have a r-r-really n-n-nice apartment!" ​

Three: the left ear, the right ear, and the final front ear.

You will be mist.

I see a few new faces here, and i am very disappointed.

Quick answers please.

Because travelling through time petrifies them!

Na

The diagnosis came completely out of the purple 😀

"An old, blind cowboy wanders into an all-girl biker bar by mistake… He finds his way to a bar stool and orders a shot of Jack Daniels. After sitting there for a while, he yells to the bartender, 'Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?' The bar immediately falls absolutely silent. In a very deep, husky voice, the woman next to him says, 'Before you tell that joke, Cowboy, I think it is only fair, given that you are blind, that you should know five things: The bartender is a blonde girl with a baseball bat. The bouncer is a blonde girl with a 'Billy-Club'. I'm a 6-foot tall, 175-pound blonde woman with a black belt in karate. The woman sitting next to me is blonde and a professional weight lifter. The lady to your right is blonde and a professional wrestler. 'Now, think about it seriously, Cowboy … do you still wanna tell that blonde joke?' The blind cowboy thinks for a second, shakes his head and mutters, 'No … not if I'm gonna have to explain it five times"…

They're just trying to fill a hole.

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.

Use a sea saw.

There's no point

The warden saw that deep down, Andy was a good person and made arrangements for Andy to learn a trade while doing his time. After three years, Andy was recognized as one of the best carpenters in the local area. Often he would be given a weekend pass to do odd jobs for the citizens of the community and he always reported back to prison before Sunday night was over. The warden was thinking of remodeling his kitchen and in fact had done much of the work himself. But he lacked the skills to build a set of kitchen cupboards and a large counter top, which he had promised his wife. So he called Andy into his office and asked him to complete the job for him. But, alas, Andy refused. He told the warden, "Gosh, I'd really like to help you but counter fitting is what got me into prison in the first place."

Because they can’t keep a straight face.

A family is at the dinner table. The son asks the father "Dad, how many kinds of boobs are there?" The father, suprised, answers "Well, son, a woman goes through three phases. In her 20s, her breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her 30s and 40s, they are like pears, still nice and hanging a bit. After 50, they are like onions." "Onions?", the son asks. "Yes, you see them and they make you cry." The daughter and wife are infuriated on hearing this. The daughter asks "Mom, how many kinds of willies are there?" The mom smiles and says, "Well, dear, a man goes through three phases too. In his 20s, his willy is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his 30s and 40s, it's like a birch tree, flexible but reliable. After 50, it's like a Christmas tree." "A Christmas tree?" asks the daughter. "Yes, dead from the root up, and the balls are just for decoration."

It will be the last thing I do.

"You dirty prick!" shouts the barmaid, "Get out before I fetch my husband!" The man apologises and promises not to repeat his gaffe. The barmaid accepts this and asks him again what he wants. "I want to pull your pants down, spread yoghurt between the cheeks of your arse and lick it all off" comes the reply. "You dirty filthy pervert. You're banned! Get out!" she storms. Again the man apologies and swears never ever to do it again. "One more chance" says the barmaid. "Now what do you want?" she asks as the man returns. "I want to turn you upside down, fill your cunt with Guinness, and then drink every last drop". The barmaid is furious at this personal intrusion, and runs upstairs to fetch her husband, who's sitting quietly watching the telly. "What's up, Love?" he asks. "There's a man in the bar who wants to put his head between my breasts and lick the sweat off" she says. "I'll kill him! Where is he?" storms the husband. "Then he said he wanted to pour yoghurt down between my arse cheeks and lick it off" she screams. "Right, he's dead!" says the husband, reaching for a baseball bat. "Then he said he wanted to turn me upside down, fill my cunt with Guinness and then drink it all…" she cries. The husband stops, puts down his bat and then returns to his armchair and switches the telly back on. "Aren't you going to do something about it?" she cries hysterically. "Look love… I'm not messing with someone who can drink 12 pints of Guinness."

Right now I really hope that is a woman's penis

Gloves. Jk, he hasn’t opened it yet.

White Vans

You can hide but you can't run.

No text found

I responded "Well, dam"

So I took her to dinner, then a movie and dropped her off at her parents' house

A lifetime ban from the petting zoo.

its pasture bed time

In my dad•a•base

Dad: What’s wrong? I thought you loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!

It Hertz

One afternoon three women were out shopping with their three young kids. Before leaving, they happen to notice a fortune-teller shop across the mall. Two of the women thought it would be a fun way to end their outing while the third one was a bit more skeptical. After a moment of debating, they all agree to go in. As they entered the shop they were greeted by the Miss Catarina. Miss Catarina: Welcome, my beautiful friends! I would like for you to join me on a wonderful adventure into your minds. The two women were excited for the experience while the skeptical one rolled her eyes. Miss Catarina acknowledge the gesture. Miss Catarina: I see we have a disbeliever in the room. In what way would I be able to lessen your uncertainty? Skeptical Woman: How about you start by guessing our names. Miss Catarina: And that is exactly what I will do! However, uncovering the names of you three would be way too simple for Miss Catarina. One may say I overheard you addressing each other during a recent debate about coming in here. (She says with a smirk) The faces of the other two women were filled with amazement. Miss Catarina: I will predict the names of your children and explain some history behind why it was chosen! Thinking that there could be no way that she would know, the skeptical woman agreed. Miss Catarina starts with the first two. Miss Catarina: Hello my little Princess, your name has to be Penelope! The first woman was stun while Penelope looked to her mom confused. Miss Catarina: I see you are confused my child, but be no more. You would most likely recognize your name as Penny! It is short for Penelope! Do you know why your name is Penny? It’s because your mommy loves collecting money! All kinds of money! Old money, new money and even foreign money! The first two women cheered while confirming that it is correct. The third woman was a bit shocked but still skeptical. Miss Catarina: It was nice meeting you, Penelope! She then moves to the second child. Miss Catarina: Hello my little Angel. You must be Lillian! Lillian: Yes! But everyone calls me Lilly! Miss Catarina: And I bet that is because your mommy loves flowers! All types of flowers! Wild flowers, house flowers and even exotic flower! The two women confirmed with excitement! But now the skeptical woman is concern. Miss Catarina: It’s a pleasure meeting you, Lillian. Saving the best for last, she walks over to the third child. Miss Catarina: And you my handsome Prince. Your name is the most fitting of all! While feeling embarrassed, the skeptical woman cuts off Miss Catarina. Skeptical Woman: I’ve had enough! My son and I do not want to hear what you have to say! We’re leaving! While looking at the sad little boy getting taken out the shop, Miss Catarina shouts to him. Miss Catarina: You have a wonderful day, Richard!

Now they have to yell "Donald, duck!"

HAND EEEEEEEEYE!!!….

It was a brief case.