This was a fair decision

So I packed my stuff up and right

A couple wanted to wait to have sex until the night of their wedding. As the big day got closer the bride tells the groom she has a confession to make. "I am as flat as a board. I'm sorry, I have been using the best padded bras on the market to make people believe I actually have breasts. I hope this isn't a deal-breaker." "Oh thank God!" the groom exclaims. "I have a secret too…my penis is the size of a newborn." The couple is so happy they've aired their most embarrassing information and relieved the other is okay with it. The wedding day comes and goes and the husband and wife start to undress in front of each other for the first time. The bride takes off her dress, unfastens her bra, and as she said her chest looked like a wall with nipples, no boobs at all. Then the groom takes off his suit, drops his underwear, and reveals a monstrously large penis. So large it is almost grotesque. "I thought you said that was going to be as small as a newborn?" she asked. He answers, "well it is, it's 19 inches long and weighs 8 lbs…are you ready?"

A constellation prize.

A time traveler walks into a bar.

One shoots but can't hit. The other hoots but can't shit

A mathamachicken

Republicans don't think they're funny, and Democrats don't think they're jokes.

He looked at me and said "I honestly don't know… It's hard to keep track".

If you don't have one, you have to unload by hand

It's pasture bedtime

That was my wholemeal…

It runs in your jeans

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.

It's so chewed up that we can't tell if it's 2b or not 2b.

Because if they lived by the bay, they would be bagels.

“Is this her first child?” He asks. “No this is her Husband.”

Just this morning she asked, “Is that the best you can do?”

The bear replies, “No thanks, I’m stuffed.”

I hate working with the fuzz… But it's a stable job.

I wanted to be an astronaut.

No text found

Pun in, ten dead.

It’s a small world.

I’ll show him!

Why did the invisible man turn down the job offer? ​ He couldn't see himself doing it.

The head Monk says to the man "This is a silent order. You will only be allowed to speak once every 15 years." The man says "Ok" and begins his time with the silent order. 15 years pass and the man is sitting in the refectory when the head monk approaches and says to the man "It has been fifteen years. What would you like to say brother?". The man responds, "The porridge could use a little more sugar." The head monk nods in acknowledgement and walks away. Another 15 years pass and the head monk finds the man in the dormitory and says "Brother, it has been another 15 years. What is it that you wish to say?". "The bed sheets are a bit thin" replies the man. Again the head monk nods in acknowledgement. Yet another 15 years pass and the head monk sees the man and asks "15 years have passed. Have you anything to say?" "Well, actually I've been thinking about it and I'm leaving the order. It's not really for me." says the man. "Yes, yes" sighs the head monk "I think that's for the best. You've done nothing but complain since you got here."

The swallow.

Nobody expects the Spanish ink precision…

Roxanne is a really good song.

Because he kisses his mother with that mouth

He'll be happy to help you beat it.

I thought, how dairy

…on a plane. Let's call them Steve and Bill. "Dude, what if we had sex?" asks Steve. "You crazy? Here, on the plane? It would be awkward, everyone would watch us doing it…" "Man, nobody is even paying attention to anything. Look!" Steve stands up and asks loudly: "Could I have a pencil, please?" Nobody gives a damn. Everyone is sleeping, reading, looking out the window, etc. "They really wouldn't care then, would they?" says Bill. So Steve and Bill have wild sex on the plane. Later, when the plane arrives to the airport and the people are leaving, the stewardess sees an old man who threw up all over his shirt, even his pants are soaking in the filth. "Sir, you should've asked for a bag!" "I didn't dare" whispers the old man. "A few rows ahead I saw a man asking for a pencil and he got fucked in the ass…"

…that there are no peanut butter fish.

They're all stereo types.

They get pulled over. Heisenberg is driving and the cop asks him "Do you know how fast you were going?" "No, but I know exactly where I am" Heisenberg replies. The cop says "You were doing 55 in a 35." Heisenberg throws up his hands and shouts "Great! Now I'm lost!" The cop thinks this is suspicious and orders him to pop open the trunk. He checks it out and says "Do you know you have a dead cat back here?" "We do now, asshole!" shouts Schrodinger. The cop moves to arrest them. Ohm resists.

It was a brief case…

On their wedding night, she tells him, "Please be gentle, I'm still a virgin." "What?" said the puzzled groom. "How can that be if you've been married ten times?" "Well, Husband #1 was a sales representative; he kept telling me how great it was going to be. Husband #2 was in software services; he was never really sure how it was supposed to function, but he said he'd look into it and get back to me. Husband #3 was from field services; he said everything checked out diagnostically but he just couldn't get the system up. Husband #4 was in telemarketing; even though he knew he had the order, he didn't know when he would be able to deliver. Husband #5 was an engineer; he understood the basic process but wanted three years to research, implement, and design a new state-of-the-art method. Husband #6 was from finance and administration; he thought he knew how, but he wasn't sure whether it was his job or not. Husband #7 was in marketing; although he had a nice product, he was never sure how to position it. Husband #8 was a psychologist; all he ever did was talk about it. Husband #9 was a gynecologist; all he did was look at it. Husband #10 was a stamp collector; all he ever did was … Ohhh … God! I miss him! But now that I've married you, I'm really excited!" "Good," said the new husband, "but, why?" "You're a lawyer. This time I know I'm gonna get screwed!"