Pasta la vista baby
He said 'which ones?' I said ' Gas, electric and water'
A man in Scotland calls his son in London the day before Christmas Eve and says,“I hate to ruin your day but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough.” 'Dad, what are you talking about?' the son screams. “We can't stand the sight of each other any longer” the father says. “We're sick of each other and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Leeds and tell her.” Franticly, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. “Like hell they're getting divorced!” she shouts, “I'll take care of this!” She calls Scotland immediately, and screams at her father “You are NOT getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow.Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?” and hangs up. The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. 'Sorted! They're coming for Christmas – and they're paying their own way.'
It's my secret 'stache.
I havnt touched a cigarette in 10 years and shes up to 2 packs a day. RIP Rodney.
The rest, as they say, is History.
Unless you count Dracula.
It’s quite bazaar
During a visit to a mental asylum, a visitor asked the director how do you determine whether or not a patient should be institutionalized?
"Well," he said, "we fill up a bath, then offer a spoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bath." "I understand," he replied. "A normal person would use the bucket because it's bigger than the spoon and the teacup." "No," replied the director. "A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a bed near the window?"
rolls around in the dirt and cross back? A dirty double crosser.
People are dying to get there.
He says, "Gramps, can I have a puff?" Grandpa replies, "Can your dick touch your asshole?" "No…" "Well, you can't have any." Later, the little boy sees his Grandpa drinking beer and asks, "Can I have a swig?" Grandpa replies again, "Can your dick touch your asshole?" "No…" "Well, you can't have any." The goes into the kitchen and is eating cookies when his Grandpa walks in. "Can I have a cookie?", asks Grandpa. "Can your dick touch your asshole?" Grandpa says, "As a matter of fact, it can!" The little boy replies, "Well then you can go fuck yourself. These are MY cookies."
The hobbit laughs and walks under it.
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.
Then she looked in the freezer
my shower gets turned on.
They're so full of themselves!
I asked her, "I can't seem to find my wife, can I talk to you?" "Sure, but how can that help?" "Once she sees me talking to you, I'll bet you anything she'll appear out of fucking nowhere."
which one is gonna be happy to see you when you open it up?
Tis the best place to trade stolen content for gold. Edit: ARRRR! Me farst gold! Much love me matey!
It’s really been getting out of hand.
Because the captain was standing on the deck
"How did you know it was dead?" his teacher asked "Because I pissed in its ear and it didn't move." the boy said. "You did what?!" the teacher shrieked. "You know," the boy explained, "I leaned over and went 'Psst!' in its ear and it didn't move!"
It really crêped up on us this year didn't it!
Now she thinks I like her even though I was just correcting her grammar.
and as you can see, they were Wright.
It was an unpleasant asscent.
Grass…… I lied about the wheels.
An old pilot is telling some schoolchildren about his days in the airforce. He says, “so there were 3 fuckers to the right of me, 1 fucker behind me and 2 fuckers to my left”. The teacher interrupts, “you see children, the Fokker was a German plane”.
The pilot replies, "that may be, but these fuckers were in Messerschmidts".
I’ll tell you tomorrow.
And the master, pensive and forever patient, answers: "My dear pupil, have you seen the gulls flying by the setting sun, and their wings seeming like flames?" "Yes, my master, I have." "And a waterfall, spilling mightly over the stones without taking anything out of its proper place?" "Yes, my master, I have witnessed it." "And the moon… when it touches the calm water to reflect all its enormous beauty?" "Yes, my master, I have also seen this marvelous phenomenon." "That is the problem. You keep watching all this shit instead of training."
A perfectly triangular lake has 3 kingdoms on its 3 sides. The first kingdom is rich and powerful, filled with wealthy, prosperous people, the second is more humble, but has its fair share of wealth and power. The third kingdom is struggling and poor, and barely has an army. The kingdoms eventually go to war over control of the lake, as it's a valuable resource to have. The first kingdom sends 100 of its finest knights, clad in the best armour and each with their own personal squire. The second kingdom sends 50 knights, with fine leather armour and a few dozen squires of their own. The third kingdom sends their one and only knight, an elderly warrior who has long since passed his prime, with his own personal squire. The night before the big battle, the knights in the first kingdom drink and party into the late hours of the night. The knights in the second kingdom aren't as well off, but have their own supply of grog and drink well into the night. In the third camp, the faithful squire gets a rope and swings it over the branch of a tall tree, making a noose, and hangs a pot from it. He fills the pot with stew and has a humble dinner with the old knight. The next morning, the knights in the first two kingdoms are hungover and unable to fight, while the knight in the third kingdom is old weary, unable to get up. In place of the knights, the squires from all three kingdoms go and fight. The battle lasts long into the night but by the time the dust settled, only one squire was left standing – the squire from the third kingdom. And it just goes to show you that the squire of the high pot and noose is equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides.
A lip reader
A nice, calm and respectable lady went into the pharmacy, right up to the pharmacist, looked straight into his eyes, and said, “I would like to buy some cyanide.”
The pharmacist asked, "Why in the world do you need cyanide?" The lady replied, "I need it to poison my husband." The pharmacists eyes got big and he exclaimed, "Lord have mercy! I can't give you cyanide to kill your husband! That's against the law! I'll lose my license! They'll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen. Absolutely not! You CANNOT have any cyanide!" The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist's wife. The pharmacist looked at the picture and replied, "Well now. That's different. You didn't tell me you had a prescription."
She said no both times