What do Alexander the great and Winnie the pooh have in common?
Same middle name
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.
A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt and walks up to the bartender and asks for two beers and says…
"One for me and one for the road"
…after taking some time to size Jim up and decide that he can trust him, Carl tells Jim about his plan to escape. "You see, " Carl says "for the first 5 years I was inside, I trained my digestive system to follow my command. Now I can eat something and it comes out broken down into it's components." Jim is skeptical, but intrigued. Carl continues: "For the last five years, I've been swallowing pieces off my uniform. It's perfect, because the guards just think it's rats chewing on it." So Jim asks, "Well, what does that have to do with me? How can I help?" Carl says "Well, the pieces of fabric come out as individual fibers. I figure by this time next year, we'll have enough to fashion enough rope to get over the wall. I just need you to tie the fibers." Jim, disgusted, says "You have got to be kidding me!" And Carl says "I shit. You knot."
I suppose the funeral wasn’t the right place to say it.
People are injecting racehorses with steroids, but the cops are finding it difficult to convict them.
It’s like finding a needle in a haystack.
But hey, it's in my genes.
He says to the bartender, "I'll have a………………beer." The bartender responds, "What's with the big pause?" The bear holds up his arms and says, "Always had 'em."
I told him “You can’t be Sirius”
The ceremony wasnt much but the reception was amazing!
It was the least I could have done for him.
"Are you fucking serious?!" asks Ron. "Yeah…that too," says Harry.
I called work this morning and whispered, “Sorry boss, I can’t come in today. I have a wee cough.” He exclaimed, “You have a wee cough!?”
I said, "Really?! Thanks boss, see you next week!"
A woman decides to have a face lift for her 50th birthday. She spends $15,000 and looks sensational.
On her way home, she stops at a news stand to buy a newspaper. Before leaving, she says to the clerk, ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how old do you think I am?”. ‘About 32,’ is the reply.’ ‘Nope! I’m exactly 50,’ the woman says happily. A little while later she goes into McDonald’s and asks the counter girl the very same question. The girl replies, ‘I’d guess about 29.’ The woman replies with a big smile, ‘Nope, I’m 50.’ Now she’s feeling really good about herself. She stops at a candy shop on her way down the street. She goes up to the counter to get some mints and asks the assistant the same burning question. The clerk responds, ‘Oh, I’d say 30.’ Again she proudly responds, ‘I’m 50, but thank you!’ While waiting for the bus to go home, she asks an old man waiting next to her the same question. He replies, ‘Lady, I’m 78 and my eyesight is going. Although, when I was young there was a sure-fire way to tell how old a woman was. It sounds very forward, but it requires you to let me put my hands under your bra Then, and only then I can tell you EXACTLY how old you are.’ They wait in silence on the empty street until her curiosity gets the better of her. She finally blurts out, ‘What the hell, go ahead.’ He slips both of his hands under her blouse and begins to feel around very slowly and carefully. He bounces and weighs each breast and he gently pinches each nipple. He pushes her breasts together and rubs them against each other. After a couple of minutes of this, she says, ‘Okay, okay…..How old am I?’ He completes one last squeeze of her breasts, removes his hands, and says, ‘Madam, you are 50.’ Stunned and amazed, the woman says, ‘That was incredible, how could you tell?’ ‘I was behind you at McDonalds’.
Yes we arson
I’m an eighth-theist
Cause he doesn’t wanna be spotted
A man walks in to a bar with a box under his arm and says to the barman, “If I can show something you have never seen before will you give me a free drink?”
Now the barman has seen mostly everything in his time and says, “Sure, impress me and hell, I’ll give you a free tab for the eve!” So the man puts down the box and opens it and then he pulls a small piano out of it and places it on the bar and then a little man as well. The little man walks up to the piano and starts playing! The barman was blown away by this and agrees to the drinks and then asks, “Where did you find him?” “Well,” says the man, “I found this magic lamp.” Goes back in to the box and pulls out this old brass oil lamp. “I rubbed it and a genie appeared and granted me one wish and then he said I must pass the lamp on to the next person that did me a kindness.” “Wow,” says the barman. The man then says, “As you gave me a drink I’m going to let you have the lamp.” “Be careful what you wish for though.” So the barman rubs the lamp and then makes his wish……… Next thing the bar has ducks everywhere!!! Crapping on the bar and the floor and all over the customers!!!!! The barman shouts at the man saying,“ I wished for a million Bucks! not a million ducks!” To this the man replies, “ And you think that I wished for a 12 inch Pianist?!”
the shower usually gets turned on.
That way he doesn't hit anything