Sailor in the Movie Theatre. This is an original, edits are welcome A woman enters a cinema. A man takes a seat directly in front of the woman. The man continuously moves his body side to side horizontally. As the movie starts playing, the man continues moving side to side annoying the woman he sat in front of. The woman taps on the man’s shoulder and asks, Why are you swinging side to side? I can’t see the film! The man responds, I’m a sailor! I’m used to moving side to side. The woman snarls and moves to the open seat in front of the sailor. She begins to continuously move up and down vertically. The sailor taps on the woman’s shoulder and asks the woman, Why are you moving up and down? I can’t see the film! The woman replies, I’m a whore! I’m used to moving up and down.
A man was eating out his gf and said… girl, you have the biggest pussy I’ve ever seen girl, you have the biggest pussy I’ve veer seen the gf turns to him and asks: why’d you say it twice? the guy replies: that wasn’t me, that was the echo [old joke from the Predator film]
Need the joke to the punchline. So I’ve heard the punchline to this joke on tv and in movies just as the scene comes in mid joke. All you hear is Rectum? Damn near killed em!! And everyone laughs. it’s been bothering me for a long time but I never thought to ask someone lol. Anyone know the rest?
Honesty Is Not Always the Best Policy (real news) A Florida man arrested for speeding and DUI admitted to police that prior to getting in his car he’d been drinking beer and watching The Fast & the Furious. Although, he admitted his favorite movie is Dumb and Dumber.
Not sure if this is the right place for this but it was suggested I cross-post here (from ShittyPoetry). So here’s my holiday story, ‘Twas The Night Before Fapmas. Enjoy! ‘Twas the night before Fapmas, alone in my house One hand on my penis, the other on the mouse Her stockings were drawn up to her tight thighs with care And above her lady bits she had shaved off her hair The actress was disrobed all bare on her bed When entered a hung dude about to get head My hand it was lubed up all warm in my lap I had just settled in for a long winter’s fap My lips formed a grin like a perverted Mad Hatter And took to my deed with the goal of a splatter Away to my penis I started to mash As the man in the film mounted for a big smash The sheen on her breasts looked of new fallen snow With the glean of saliva from a slop given blow When what to my wondering eyes should appear But another guy entering the chick by the rear With his cock he did drive her so lively and quick I knew in a moment this guy gave mad dick More rapid than eagles his member it came And he grunted, and shouted, and called out her name Now Jenna! Or Sasha! Or Amy! Or Jennifer On Lisa! Or Eva! Or Sylvia or whoever! To the top of the car hood! Up against the wall! Now hump away! Hump away! Hump away all! As the lube on my member through friction did dry I reached for the bottle for which to apply A squeeze and in seconds the fluid did spew With a new dose of KY it was time for round two And then, in a twinkling, I heard like a spoof The chick say I’m cumming though there was zero proof As I worked on my head and was squirming around Down her chimney he drove with an exerted sound He was dressed in birthday suit, from his head to his foot And his unit had no marks from the place it was put His bundle of toys had her now on her back And he looked like a guy about to unload his sack Her eyes how they twinkled! Her breasts were so merry! Her cheeks were like roses, as re-popped her cherry! Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow And the beard of his chin tickled her down below The stump of his pipe she held soft in her teeth And she wrapped her lips around his hard piece like a wreath He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook when he pumped like a bowl full of jelly He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself A wink of his eye and as he got himself head Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work And filled all her stockings; I continued to jerk And laying his load all over her nose He let out a sigh and triumphantly rose He sprang to his feet and gave his friend a whistle And away they flew out like the down of a thistle All covered in semen the porn star was a sight Happy Fapmas to all, and to all a good-night
Three American anthropologists head to an island… inhabited by a group of indigenous cannibals, in order to study the native culture. While filming the natives, the three men are captured by a savage hunting party are returned to the native’s village. The Americans are told by the chief that they have one chance to save their lives. Each person must go into the jungle and bring back whatever fruit they can find. If they don’t return, a hunting party will find them and skin them alive. The first anthropologist runs into the jungle to find fruit. He quickly returns with a bushel of apples within hours. The chief then tells his people that the American must put all of the apples that he brought back in his own anus. If the American makes any facial expression whatsoever, he will be killed and eaten. The American hesitates, then starts to shove the apples in his own anus, one by one. He gets two of the five apples in, but winces in pure agony on the third. The natives kill him and begin to cook him, when the second man returns, with a handful of berries. The chief explains what the man must do. Without hesitation the American starts putting the berries in his anus. He puts in three. Five. Seven. He has one berry left, but then out of nowhere he starts laughing. The natives are confused, but since he broke the rule, he is immediately killed. In heaven, the first anthropologist meets up with the second one. He says, Dude, you were so close! You could have survived! Why on earth did you laugh? The second guy chuckles and says, I saw our buddy returning with pineapples.
What do men and women have in common? Both need some tissues after watching a good movie.
I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn’t work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness. Both need some tissues after watching a good movie.
Repeat After Me okay, every time i say something, you said a dog barked. A man walks into an space ship. A dog barked. He says, Have you seen my dog? A dog barked. The astronaut said No, but I heard … A dog barked. The man says, Oh okay thanks, say you look pretty cute in that spacesuit, how about we go eat at a restaurant or a movie theater? okay thanks thank you. A dog barked. They have a very good time and they go home and watch Full House. A dog barked. He gives the astronaut a kiss on his handshake. A dog barked. The astronaut says, Hey i have to admit, im sorry but the truth is the dogs inside my spacesuit. we were cuddling because i love dogs. A dog barked.
A young couple go to the movies together… During the film the tension becomes to much to bear and they kissing. Afterwards the boy says slightly embarrassed sorry i think this belongs to you handing her what he thinks is chewing gum. The girl replies oh no that’s not gum i just have bronchitis
An old couple was found dead in a drive in theater they came to see the movie Closed for Winter .
I saw the movie Gravity yesterday. It was *out of this world* because the amount of suspense was *astronomical*! However, I didn’t like Sandra Bullock because she didn’t really seem *down to earth*. But all in all, the movie was pretty *stellar*!
Two schoolgirls are coming home from Sunday school one day… One turns to the other and says, Do you believe in the devil? The other one says, Don’t be silly, of course not, the devil is like Santa; it’s only your dad. Season one episode two of the BBC’s Luther. **** *http://movies.netflix.com/WiMovie/Luther/70175633
A blonde decided to rent her first porno… …so she went to the video store and picked out a tape with a title that sounded sexy. She drove home, lit some candles, took off her clothes and placed the tape in the VCR, but nothing appeared on her screen except static. So she called the video store and complained. She said I just rented a porno from you and there’s nothing on the tape but static. The clerk replies Sorry about that, which movie is it? She replies Head Cleaner !!!
This is the story of an Egyptian named… Benny. One day, Benny was strolling along the banks of the Nile, minding his own business. However, he came across an urn, buried in the sand. The urn was all dusty and dented and cracked and bent and generally broken. However, Benny decided to rub the urn with his sleeve, thinking he might be able to get a few coins out of it. But suddenly, out of the urn came a Genie! The genie stretched and yawned and said: Oh! Thank you! Thank you so much! I can’t tell you how long I’ve been in that urn! You’re a lucky man, fella. Very lucky. Why? said Benny. Because you’ve got wishes coming your way, friend. Three, to be exact. So Benny thought for a while and said, Ok, I want some new threads. And thus he got a fancy toga. And then he said I could use a new house. And a fancy mansion made of fine marble popped up. Finally, Benny said: And, for my final wish, I’d like to be immortal. I wanna live forever. The genie was taken back a bit and thought for a while: Well, that’s, um, that’s a bit of an expensive wish, you see. Hm. Tell you what. I’ll make you immortal, but on one condition. You can never, ever, shave your beard or cut your hair. If you do, you’re gonna get sucked into an urn. That’s how I ended up like this. Deal? Deal, said Benny. So the Genie granted his wish and Benny began wandering the world. He saw Rome rise and fall, the Dark Ages get lighter, the New World grow and prosper. He went all over the planet, from China to Germany to Canada to Brazil. But all this time, Benny had never fallen in love. But one day, Benny came across a beautiful woman on the beach. He walked up to her and introduced himself. And as the woman brushed the hair out of his face they gazed into each other’s eyes, and it was love at first sight. They danced and they laughed and they sung, and it was a happy time for both of them. One day, on the same beach they had met on, Benny got down on one knee and asked the woman to marry him. The woman thought for a while. Benny, she said, I’ll marry you. But only if you shave your beard and cut your hair. It’s long and dirty and full of rats, and whenever we go to see a movie it takes up eight seats. Benny sat down and mulled this over. The Genie and the urn were long gone, he thought. Who would notice if he cut his hair and shaved his beard. He happily agreed, and went to the pharmacy and bought 400 disposable razors and 25 cans of shaving cream. He went into the bathroom, and waved to his girlfriend, saying he’d be out in a bit. You could hear the *chic, chic* of the razor and the *pst, pst* of the shaving cream. Then suddenly, it all went quiet. His girlfriend, after a while, knocked on the door. *Tap tap* Benny? *Tap Tap* Benny?! *TAP TAP* BENNY?!? Finally she pushed open the door, and on the ground lay around 8 cubic yards of hair, and an urn. So, there’s a moral to this story. And that moral is, a Benny shaved, is a Benny urned.
Marvel comics to introduce a female Muslim superhero Fans are looking forward to seeing Captain America, Iron Man and the Post Box in the next Avengers film.
I wouldn’t say my wife was fat……. …..but she wore a white dress to the cinema last night and they showed the film on her back!
The store I work for recently acquired a new variety of sausage, Jimmy Dean’s Country Mild . What does the country taste like? Well I’m from the country and the only two things you’ll find here are dirt and sage brush. Now sage flavored sausage is a good idea, but they already have a sage flavor. It can’t taste like cows or sheep because it’s pork, and I don’t know how it could taste like horrible internet, long drives or a complete lack of social life. That’s all there is, dirt and sage. So I guess it tastes like dirt. So what the hell is the ‘Mild’ supposed to mean, is there some flavor in it other than dirt? The only thing I ever see in the dirt is cow shit, lots and lots of cow shit. So I guess Country Mild tastes like dirt with shit in it, although not as much shit as some of the stronger varieties. But now that I think about it, most people are from the city and only see the country through popular media, so I suppose it’s more reasonable to assume the sausage was seasoned based on Hollywood’s interpretation of the country. It could be based on some of the more historical fictions of the old west or perhaps a documentary, but then it’d have to taste like pain and hard work. Or perhaps it’s based on the more popular Clint Eastwood style western, then it’d taste like death and loneliness. But a younger audience couldn’t identify with either of those themes. It’d have to be something more recent, more progressive, something that changed the way people viewed the west. Then it hit me, Brokeback Mountain. Not only did the movie rewrite the identity of country western culture, but it’s also the perfect euphemism for Country Sausage. Again, this made me wonder what the ‘Mild’ referred to, but after a great deal of deliberation I’ve arrived at the only viable conclusion. Country Mild Sausage tastes like the first few minutes of gay sex; you know the part where where his dick isn’t covered in shit yet, but you can still taste it? It seems my original guess wasn’t too far off.
What do you call getting a movie about Norse gods from the Internet? DownlOdin. What do you call getting a movie about Norse gods from the Internet illegally? Thorrenting.
I Forget the Name Two elderly men are conversing and drinking wine while their wives prepare dinner in the kitchen. As the discussion begins to dwindle, Tom and Norman decide to delve into their limited pop culture knowledge. Well now, Tom, says Norman, me and Carolyn tuned into one of those nightly talk shows the other day. Boy, was it a hoot! But I can’t seem to remember for the life of me what it was called. ‘Here, describe it to me. Lets see if I can help, offers Tom. Well, he was a big ol’ middle aged man, Norman starts, and he had a whole lotta’ cars. Ah! I got it now! His name was.. well, shoot. What was his name? It was a bird of some sort. A bird? Like a robin? No no, a blue bird. What are those small blue birds, Tom? A bluejay? suggests Tom. Yeah! Jay was his name. Jay Leno. Y’all should try him out sometime. Well, you know what Norm. We went and saw ourselves a movie the other night, but darned if I’ve already forgot the name. Come now, Tom, why don’t you run it past me? Maybe I’ll do some good. Yeah, sure, says Tom. Well… shit, let me see… Okay. What’s the name of that flower, a common flower. A dandelion? suggests Norman. No no. No it’s a red one. You mean a tulip? Naw come now, Norm. It’s red and gots thorns all over it. That’d be a rose, then. A rose! Yeah, that’s what it was, a rose! exclaims Tom. He turns over his shoulder and cries HEY ROSE, WHAT WAS THE NAME OF THAT MOVIE WE SAW THE OTHER NIGHT??
50 SHADES OF CHARLES HUNNAM Its been reported that actor Charles Hunnam has dropped out of the movie, 50 Shades of Grey because of cold feet. You can’t blame him, cold feet can lead to shrinkage
Lie detector robot A father buys a lie detector robot that slaps people when they lie. He decides to test it out one night at dinner. The father asks the son what he did that afternoon. The son said, I did some homework. The robot slaps the son. Ok, ok, I went to a friend’s house and watched movies. What movies did you watch, asks the father. Toy story replies the son. The robot slaps the son. Ok we watched porn. What? Says the father, I didn’t even know what porn was at your age. The robot slaps the father. The mother laughs and said, well he certainly is your son. The robot slaps the mother.
The White House I just watched the latest US invasion movie ‘White House Down’, a film about a hostile force attempting to take control of the American seat of power. Which isn’t to be confused with the 2009 Michael Moore documentary ‘White House Downs’, which chronicled the failed Bush administration.
Lie detector robot So a Dad builds a lie detecting robot that slaps anyone when they lie. He’s been suspicious of what his son has been up to lately. So they are sitting at the dinner table, the mum, the dad, the son, and the robot. The dad asks his son So where were you last night? The son replies I was at the library *the robot slaps the son* Son: Fine, I was at Geoff’s house Dad: And what were you two doing? Son: studying of course *robot slaps the son* Son: ok we were watching movies *robot slaps the son again* Son: Fine! we were watching porn ok? Dad: I’m disappointed in you, when I was your age we didn’t even know what porn was. *the robot slaps the dad* Embarrassed the Dad says Well I certainly wasn’t watching it! *the robot slaps the dad again* The Mum starts chuckling at the end of the table and says He’s definitely your son *And the robot slaps the Mum
What Changes reddit brought in me Before Joining reddit.. Pussy meant a cat… Sex meant a gender … Bitch was a female dog … Dick was the name of a cartoon film … Bang was a sound …. Ass was an animal …. cock was animal …. screw just meant a fixing tool …. balls meant a round toy….. But then i started surfing Reddit and all the meanings changed..
So I was in the movie theatre… and I was watching an incredibly sad film. So sad that the man behind me started wailing, then he hit me in the head with a harpoon.
The longest joke in the world So, there’s a man crawling through the desert. He’d decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn’t get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he’d paid attention to the sun and thought he’d figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he’d be back to the small town he’d gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he’s afraid that he’ll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he’d had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he’s really thirsty. He’s been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He’s reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it’s mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he’s been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn’t recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn’t remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he’s close, and that after dark he’ll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that’ll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they’re full of sand. He so thirsty that he can’t even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He’d forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn’t noticed it the night before because he’d been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes – three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food – then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn’t the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He’s not sure. He’ll go a little farther, and if he still doesn’t find water, he’ll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question – which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that – when you stop sweating he knows that means you’re in trouble – usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it’s time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can’t wait any longer – if he passes out, he’s dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn’t even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since he’s drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out. He’s quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him – if he didn’t drink it, he’d die anyway. Besides, he’s pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick – their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that. He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he’ll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He’s careful to stay away from the movements. After a while, he begins to stagger. He’s not sure if it’s fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going. After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV – he remembers doing donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it – he’s getting woozy enough and tired enough that he’s not sure what he remembers any more or if he’s hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town. He was heading for a town, wasn’t he? He thinks he was. He isn’t sure any more. He’s not even sure how long he’s been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon – it seems like it’s been too long since he started out. He walks through the sand. After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn’t remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he doesn’t think he remembers any. This is bad. But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he’ll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune. Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time, and falls to his knees. He doesn’t feel like getting back up – he’ll just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees. While crawling, if his throat weren’t so dry, he’d laugh. He’s finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert – crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape – shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they’d be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts. He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he’s at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn’t where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough. Again, he doesn’t know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It’s a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it’s dark – darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can’t tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from here. He’s going to have to go down there and look. He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he’s in trouble – he’s not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks he’s caught fire on the way down – like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling. He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn’t just imagined it. So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins to crawl towards it. He’d get up and walk towards it, but he doesn’t seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn’t have water, he’ll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance. He gets closer and closer, but still can’t see what’s in the middle of the dark area. His eyes won’t quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling. Finally, he reaches the area he’d seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he’s no longer on sand – he’s now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it – a pattern cut into the stone. He’s too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is – so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center, where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area. His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn’t seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface. Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He’s probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he’ll know he’s gone. He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he’s going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what’s in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling. It’s the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he’s hearing. He would swear that someone just said, Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me? He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it’s too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different – he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time. Yep. He can see. He’s sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle. And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him. He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn’t have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn’t even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his final resting place. No matter what happens, he’s not going to be able to move from this spot. Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He’ll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves it in the snake’s direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes. Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn’t rattled yet – that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn’t going to die of snake bite after all. He then remembers that he’d looked up when he’d reached the center here because he thought he’d heard a voice. He was still very woozy – he was likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was now on cool stone. He still didn’t have anything to drink. But maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone didn’t look natural. Nor did that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake was even their pet, and that’s why it wasn’t biting. He tries to clear his throat to say, Hello, but his throat is too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he’s going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn’t good. He doesn’t have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes out. He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now. He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, Hello? Is there anyone here? He hears, from his side, Greetings. What is it that you want? He turns his head, back towards the snake. That’s where the sound had seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help. Please, he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, I’d love to not be thirsty any more. I’ve been a long time without water. Can you help me? Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, Very well. Coming up. A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He’s momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers – the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him. He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them – blood. He feels his shoulder again – his shirt has what feels like two holes in it – two puncture holes – they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been bitten. By the snake. It’ll feel better in a minute. He looks up – it’s the snake talking. He hadn’t dreamed it. Suddenly he notices – he’s not dizzy any more. And more importantly, he’s not thirsty any more – at all! Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife? Sorry about that, but I had to bite you, says the snake. That’s the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine. You bit me to help me? Why aren’t I thirsty any more? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty any more? I haven’t had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid… hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation? No, says the snake, I’m real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn’t give you a drink. I bit you. That’s how it works – it’s what I do. I bite. I don’t have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here. The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn’t, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great – he was still starving and exhausted, but much better – he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst. I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request, continued the snake. I can guess why you drank it, but I’m not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It’ll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it. Ummm, n-next request? said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little. That’s the way it works. If you like, that is, explained the snake. You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish. The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs. But there are rules, the snake continued. The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility. The snake looks at the man seriously. By the way, the snake says suddenly, my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me ‘Snake’. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn’t stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish. Again, the snake grinned. Sorry if I don’t offer to shake, but I think you can understand – my shake sounds somewhat threatening. The snake give his rattle a little shake. Umm, my name is Jack, said the man, trying to absorb all of this. Jack Samson. Can I ask you a question? Jack says suddenly. What happened to the poison…umm, in your bite. Why aren’t I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that’s how you work? That’s more than one question, grins Nate. But I’ll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question. The snake’s grin gets wider. Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That’s what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more – but ‘any more’ is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent – now, as long as you live, you shouldn’t need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat – much like a creature of the desert. You’ve been changed. For the third question, Nate continues, you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you’re a man – and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is. Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin. As for the fourth question, Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can’t tell you. Wait, joked Jack, isn’t this where you say you could tell me, but you’d have to kill me? I thought that was implied. Nate continued to look serious. Ummm…yeah. Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. So, what is this ‘Bound by Secrecy’ stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol? Jack thought for a second. And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it? They may, I don’t really know, said Nate. I haven’t gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue? Yeah, they do, said Jack. I figured, replied Nate. As for being bound by secrecy – with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won’t be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You’ll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I’ll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I’m guessing that you’re a man of your word, you’ll never test the binding anyway, so you won’t notice. Nate said the last part with utter confidence. Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something? Well, Jack, said Nate sadly, I can’t tell you that, unless you make the second request. Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back. Umm, well, ok, said Jack, what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that? Sure! said Nate, brightening. You’re allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They’re like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can’t give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be – you still wouldn’t be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion. Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him. Well, anyway, continued Nate, I’d probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you’d be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you’d tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you’ll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me. Cure the methanol poisoning, huh? said Jack. And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn’t sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can’t ask to be rich, right? Because that’s not really a change to me? Right, nodded Nate. Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy? Jack asked, hopefully. That takes two requests, Jack. Yeah, I figured so, said Jack. But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete? Well, I could make you very smart, admitted Nate, but that wouldn’t necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldn’t necessarily make you the best athlete either. You’ve heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there’s some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can’t make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it. Hmmm, said Jack. Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one? Maybe, said Nate, it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes. Nate looked like he’d shrug, if he had shoulders. Ok, well, since I’d rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn’t sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something? No, said Nate. Just hold out your hand. Or heel. Nate grinned. Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that’s how it works – the poison, you know, Nate said apologetically. Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn’t hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it’s fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn’t hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. Hey, Jack, Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, is that someone else coming up over there? Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food? Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate… Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans… Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn’t have to hoodwink me like that. I’ve been doing this a long time, Jack, said Nate, confidently. You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you – especially one my size. And besides, admit it – it’s only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn’t hurt any more, does it? That’s because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that you’d heal quickly now. Yeah, well, still, said Jack, it’s the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn’t you have gotten my calf or something instead? More meat in the typical human butt, replied Nate. And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second. Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear, answered Jack. Ok, said Nate. Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking? Just talk, said Jack. I’ll sit here and try to not think about food. We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like, answered Nate. Hey! You didn’t tell me you had food around here, Nate! Jack jumped up. What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers? Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours. I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is, replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to. Ugh, said Jack, sitting back down. I think I’ll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And there’s nothing to burn – I’d have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk. Ok, replied Nate, still grinning. But I’d better hurry, before you start looking at me as food. Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden. Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate sceptically. Well, that’s the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack, said Nate. Stand up and look at the symbol on the rock here. Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose. Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done – it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving. Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished he’d looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky. Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh! Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate, said Jack. Which way is it back to town? And how far? I’m eventually going to have to head back – I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, I’m not sure I’ll want to. It’s about 30 miles that way. Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way he’d been going when he was crawling here. But that’s 30 miles by the way the crow flies. It’s about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack. Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it? Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway, said Nate. He figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a ‘tree’, offering ‘temptations’, making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while. Garden of Eden, hunh? said Jack. How long have you been here, Nate? No idea, really, replied Nate. A long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it’s been thousands of years, at least. So, are you the snake that tempted Eve? said Jack. Beats me, said Nate. Maybe. I can’t remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a ‘temptation’, though I’ve rarely had refusals. Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there? asked Jack. Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake – much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don’t remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I’ve been here ever since. What is this plac
Why do hipsters love ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’? because it was the first Indie film.
If Adam Sandler, Rob Schneider and Dennis Dugan are in a plane and the plane crashes, who will survive? American comedy films.
The welsh are making a remake of a popular Nicolas Cage film. Goat rider.
Robot for sale! A father buys a lie detector robot that slaps people when they lie. He decides to test it out at dinner one night. The father asks his son what he did that afternoon. The son says, I did some schoolwork. The robot slaps the son. The son says, Ok, Ok. I was at a friend’s house watching movies. Dad asks, What movie did you watch? Son says, Toy Story. The robot slaps the son. Son says, Ok, Ok, we were watching porn. Dad says, What? At your age I didn’t even know what porn was. The robot slaps the father. Mom laughs and says, Well, he certainly is your son. The robot slaps the mother. Robot for sale…!
The zookeeper and the penguins A zookeeper drives to the airport to pick up a group of penguins that are coming to live at the zoo. Midway through the drive back, though, the van breaks down. The zookeeper calls AAA, who says that they’ll be out to help in a couple of hours. After a few minutes, a man passing in his car stops to ask if he can help. Actually, yes! says the zookeeper. I’m going to be stuck here for a few hours while I wait for help. If you could take these penguins to the zoo for me, I’d be so grateful. The man agrees, and the two of them bundle the penguins into his car. Thank you so much! says the zookeeper, and hands the man a $20 for his trouble. The man drives off, and the zookeeper sits down to wait. Two hours later, he’s surprised to see the man return, still with all the penguins in the car. What happened? he asks. I thought you were going to take them to the zoo! I did! says the man. And they had a terrific time. But now they want to go to the movies, and I need some more money.
Wanna See a perfect Relationship? You Wanna See A Perfect Relationship? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Watch A Movie… 😛 Coz it is possible in movies only.
It’s a convicts first day in prison It’s a convicts first day in prison. He’s a young convict and he’s crying. An older convict comes over and sits down. He says look it’s not so bad here. For instance, do you like movies? The new guy says, Yeah I love movies. Every Monday we have movie night, first run movie. Do you like Italian food? The new guy says, Yeah I like Italian food. On Tuesday in the cafeteria, it is all Italian food. Do you like baseball? The new guy says, I love baseball. Every Wednesday we have a pick up game and everyone plays even the guards, it is really fun. The old guy says, One more question, are you by any chance a homosexual? The new guy says, no I’m not. Ah, you’re not going to like Thursday.
Magic Dildo A husband had to leave his wife for 3 months while he attended business in Africa. To prevent her loneliness and to lower the temptations of her being unfaithful he gave his wife a magic dildo before he left. The reason it was called a magic dildo was because no matter where the wife was all she would have to do is say, magic dildo and then the place she wanted the magic dildo to be and it would appear there. Well a week after her husband left the wife decided to give the magic dildo a try. She left it in the garage and then went up into her bed and said, magic dildo, vagina. Instantly it appeared where it was called and satisfied the wife. The wife was very excited about her magic dildo and started to use it every where. She called to it at work when no one was looking, in the wooded part of the park, at the movie theater, when she was dancing, everywhere. No matter where she was it would appear and make her squirm with pleasure. One day on her way to work the wife hit bad traffic. She looked up ahead and saw there was an accident and realized it would be a while and decided to call the magic dildo. The wife was feeling really confident and called out magic dildo, vagina. She became overwhelmed and hit the accelerator slamming into the car in front of her. As it turned out that car was a cop. The cop came up to the car seeing the woman squirming and suspected she was on drugs. Get out of the car now and put your hands on the hood! The wife tried to comply but ended up just falling to the pavement. The officer was quite alright and asked the wife what she was on. The wife told him Officer I’m not on any drugs, my husband gave me a magic dildo and its causing me to loose control! The officer, not buying it, simply replied Magic dildo, my ass.
In the realm of bad jokes… If anyone has seen the original Predator movie then you will know these 2 jokes. I told my girlfriend the other day I wanted a little pussy. She said me too. Mine’s as big as a house. I was going down on my girlfriend the other day and I said jeez you got a big pussy. Jeez you got a big pussy. She asked me why I said it twice. I said I didn’t.
I’d just like to officially claim this new Star Wars joke, before Star Wars Episode 8 actually comes out at some point in the future and someone else tries to steal it. So JJ Abrams’ Star Wars Episode 7 is on its way, and it seems likely another will follow. This joke is primarily for use in the future, after Episode 8 has been released. Keep it in your back pocket, and use when approrpiate. Just remember, when Episode 8 does come out and this joke is super-popular, remember where it came from and who to send royalties to. So, the joke: > A Star Wars fan is looking through his friend’s extensive movie collection. He’s excited to find that his friend owns special editions of the Star Wars movies. > Oh yeah, says his friend, I’m a pretty big Star Wars fan. I don’t have Episode 8, cuz I didn’t like it that much, but I have all the other Star Wars movies – I have the first Star Wars movie, the second Star Wars movie, the– > The Star Wars fan interrupts angrily, I find your lack of Eighth disturbing.
Sam Loved Ninjas Little Sam loved ninjas. He’d think about them all day and watch ninja movies all night. He had a ninja costume, throwing stars, the whole shebang. One day he’s playing around and whacks himself in the eye with a nunchuck, he runs downstairs to his mum bawling Mummy mummy mummy look what happened!. She sees the welt on her little boy’s face and freaks out Oh my god sam! Your eye! Suddenly Sam stops crying, looks up and says For the thousandth time mum, I’m not a samurai, I’m a fucking ninja.
This isnt really a joke, its my birthday today. All I asked for was a nice glass of whiskey and a cigar. I got both. 😀 While smoking my cigar, my gf says you look like a movie star with that cigar, wanna know who? Yeah, who……Lassie takin a shit.
Paratrooper’s First Jump NSFW A young man joined the army and signed up with the paratroopers. He went through the standard training, completed the practice jumps from higher and higher structures, and finally went to take his first jump from an airplane. The next day, he phoned his father to tell him the news. So, did you jump? the father asked. Well, let me tell you what happened. We got up in the plane, and the Sergeant opened up the door and asked for volunteers. About a dozen men got up and just walked out of the plane! Is that when you jumped? asked the father. Um, not yet. Then the Sergeant started to grab the other men one at a time and throw them out the door. Did you jump then? asked the father. I’m getting to that. Everyone else had jumped, and I was the last man left on the plane. I told the Sergeant that I was too scared to jump. He told be to get off the plane or he’d kick my ass. So, did you jump? Not then. He tried to push me out of the plane, but I grabbed onto the door and refused to go. Finally he called over the Jump Master. The Jump Master is this great big guy, about six-foot five, and 250 pounds. He said to me, ‘Boy, are you going to jump or not?’ I said, ‘No, Sir. I’m too scared.’ So the Jump Master pulled down his pants and whipped his cock out. I swear, it was about twelve inches long! He said, ‘Boy, either you jump out of that door, or I’m sticking this up your ass.’ So, did you jump? asked the father. Well, a little, at first. Edit: For those of you all super disappointed at the tag [ENJOY!](http://xhamster.com/movies/1493888/an_awesome_military_gay_threesome.html)
I should stay up until 3 in the morning more often I want to make a show with the two actors who have played Khan in the different Star Trek films where we discuss literature. We will call it Prose and Khans .
Not to be racist but… Every movie is widescreen to Asian people.
A Guy Gets Sent to Prison A guy gets sent to prison, and he’s really nervous about the whole thing. He’s seen the things on TV, heard all kinds of stories about how bad prison is, the treatment, the other inmates, and so he was very nervous about his time there. He meets his cellmate for the first time, who is a good deal taller and stronger than him which doesn’t help the matter, but his cellmate starts off with a handshake and introduces himself in a very pleasant tone with a smile. How are you, my name’s Henry, and it’s good to meet you! The guy shakes his hand nervously, barely offering a response. Henry takes note and said, Hey, you look a little nervous, everything okay? The guy gives a weak nod and manages, I’ve just heard so many things about prison before trailing off, but Henry gives a little laugh and reassures him, Oh buddy, don’t worry about it at all, prison really is not all that bad. The boys here are nice, the guards are fair, and the food’s not bad either. Oh hey, do you like movies? He nods, Y-yeah, I guess. Henry says, Every Monday they bring in a new theater release and play it on a projector screen for us, and I don’t mean no bootlegged or classic, it’s always newly released movies every week, it’s great! Oh, and do you like baseball? He nods again, starting to feel a bit more at ease, Yeah, I love baseball Henry says, still smiling, Every Tuesday they take us on the bus to the local stadium and give us great seats to watch a professional baseball game. One of the boys even caught a home run last month! And hey, do you like Italian food? He nods again more strongly this time, Oh hell yes I do! Henry says, Every Wednesday they bring in a chef from town who makes the best Italian food you’ve ever tasted, made to order and everything, it’s amazing! The guy nods, feeling much more assured, and Henry continues, By the way, are you homosexual? The guy shakes his head, raising an eyebrow, Uh, no Henry’s smile fades and his gaze drifts to the side, Ah, well you’re not going to like Thursdays…
So this guy walks into a doctors office… …with a duck on his head. The doctor says Can I help you? The ducks replies Yeah, can you get this guy off my ass? (Credit: from the brilliant movie My Favorite Year )
Harry Potter was on last night, i decided to click on the subtitles so i could watch the movie and read the book at the same time
girlfriend come home drunk The missus came home steaming drunk last night. You up for some role play action, babe? she asked with a wink. Not really, I replied. Oh, come on, she said. We can act out ANY scene, from ANY film you want. Walking over to her with a huge smile on my face, I noticed her expression change. She had realised her mistake, however it was too late. Where I had previously seen arousal in her eyes, I now saw only blind terror… As I shouted, THIS… IS… SPARTA! and kicked her down the stairs. Result
A young man was sent to prison, Upon his arrival an older man welcomed him to make sure he was comfortable. The older man asked Do you like baseball? the young man replied of course, I loved playing it as a kid the older man said we’ll that’s great we play baseball all day Monday . The older man asked Do you like movies? The young man replied, yes, I love watching a good movie the older man replied that’s great, Tuesday is movie night. Next the old man asked Do you like Italian food? The young man replied yes, that’s actually my favorite . The old man replied Wonderful, on Wednesdays its Italian food night in the cafeteria . Lastly the old man ask Son, are you a homosexual? The young man replied No sir, I have a wife on the outside. The older man replied Well young man, you’re not going to enjoy Thursday nights.
Lost in the Desert [Part 1] So, there’s a man crawling through the desert. He’d decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn’t get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he’d paid attention to the sun and thought he’d figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he’d be back to the small town he’d gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he’s afraid that he’ll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he’d had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he’s really thirsty. He’s been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He’s reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it’s mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he’s been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn’t recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn’t remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he’s close, and that after dark he’ll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that’ll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they’re full of sand. He so thirsty that he can’t even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He’d forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn’t noticed it the night before because he’d been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes – three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food – then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn’t the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He’s not sure. He’ll go a little farther, and if he still doesn’t find water, he’ll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question – which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that – when you stop sweating he knows that means you’re in trouble – usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it’s time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can’t wait any longer – if he passes out, he’s dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn’t even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since he’s drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out. He’s quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him – if he didn’t drink it, he’d die anyway. Besides, he’s pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick – their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that. He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he’ll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He’s careful to stay away from the movements. After a while, he begins to stagger. He’s not sure if it’s fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going. After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV – he remembers doing donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it – he’s getting woozy enough and tired enough that he’s not sure what he remembers any more or if he’s hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town. He was heading for a town, wasn’t he? He thinks he was. He isn’t sure any more. He’s not even sure how long he’s been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon – it seems like it’s been too long since he started out. He walks through the sand. After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn’t remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he doesn’t think he remembers any. This is bad. But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he’ll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune. Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time, and falls to his knees. He doesn’t feel like getting back up – he’ll just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees. While crawling, if his throat weren’t so dry, he’d laugh. He’s finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert – crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape – shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they’d be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts. He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he’s at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn’t where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough. Again, he doesn’t know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It’s a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it’s dark – darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can’t tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from here. He’s going to have to go down there and look. He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he’s in trouble – he’s not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks he’s caught fire on the way down – like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling. He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn’t just imagined it. So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins to crawl towards it. He’d get up and walk towards it, but he doesn’t seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn’t have water, he’ll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance. He gets closer and closer, but still can’t see what’s in the middle of the dark area. His eyes won’t quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling. Finally, he reaches the area he’d seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he’s no longer on sand – he’s now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it – a pattern cut into the stone. He’s too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is – so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center, where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area. His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn’t seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface. Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He’s probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he’ll know he’s gone. He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he’s going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what’s in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling. It’s the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he’s hearing. He would swear that someone just said, Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me? He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it’s too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different – he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time. Yep. He can see. He’s sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle. And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him. He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn’t have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn’t even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his final resting place. No matter what happens, he’s not going to be able to move from this spot. Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He’ll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves it in the snake’s direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes. Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn’t rattled yet – that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn’t going to die of snake bite after all. He then remembers that he’d looked up when he’d reached the center here because he thought he’d heard a voice. He was still very woozy – he was likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was now on cool stone. He still didn’t have anything to drink. But maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone didn’t look natural. Nor did that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake was even their pet, and that’s why it wasn’t biting. He tries to clear his throat to say, Hello, but his throat is too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he’s going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn’t good. He doesn’t have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes out. He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now. He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, Hello? Is there anyone here? He hears, from his side, Greetings. What is it that you want? He turns his head, back towards the snake. That’s where the sound had seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help. Please, he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, I’d love to not be thirsty any more. I’ve been a long time without water. Can you help me? Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, Very well. Coming up. A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He’s momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers – the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him. He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them – blood. He feels his shoulder again – his shirt has what feels like two holes in it – two puncture holes – they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been bitten. By the snake. It’ll feel better in a minute. He looks up – it’s the snake talking. He hadn’t dreamed it. Suddenly he notices – he’s not dizzy any more. And more importantly, he’s not thirsty any more – at all! Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife? Sorry about that, but I had to bite you, says the snake. That’s the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine. You bit me to help me? Why aren’t I thirsty any more? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty any more? I haven’t had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid… hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation? No, says the snake, I’m real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn’t give you a drink. I bit you. That’s how it works – it’s what I do. I bite. I don’t have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here. The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn’t, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great – he was still starving and exhausted, but much better – he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst. I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request, continued the snake. I can guess why you drank it, but I’m not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It’ll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it. Ummm, n-next request? said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little. That’s the way it works. If you like, that is, explained the snake. You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish. The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs. But there are rules, the snake continued. The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility. The snake looks at the man seriously. By the way, the snake says suddenly, my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me ‘Snake’. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn’t stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish. Again, the snake grinned. Sorry if I don’t offer to shake, but I think you can understand – my shake sounds somewhat threatening. The snake give his rattle a little shake. Umm, my name is Jack, said the man, trying to absorb all of this. Jack Samson. Can I ask you a question? Jack says suddenly. What happened to the poison…umm, in your bite. Why aren’t I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that’s how you work? That’s more than one question, grins Nate. But I’ll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question. The snake’s grin gets wider. Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That’s what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more – but ‘any more’ is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent – now, as long as you live, you shouldn’t need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat – much like a creature of the desert. You’ve been changed. For the third question, Nate continues, you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you’re a man – and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is. Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin. As for the fourth question, Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can’t tell you. Wait, joked Jack, isn’t this where you say you could tell me, but you’d have to kill me? I thought that was implied. Nate continued to look serious. Ummm…yeah. Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. So, what is this ‘Bound by Secrecy’ stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol? Jack thought for a second. And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it? They may, I don’t really know, said Nate. I haven’t gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue? Yeah, they do, said Jack. I figured, replied Nate. As for being bound by secrecy – with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won’t be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You’ll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I’ll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I’m guessing that you’re a man of your word, you’ll never test the binding anyway, so you won’t notice. Nate said the last part with utter confidence. Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something? Well, Jack, said Nate sadly, I can’t tell you that, unless you make the second request. Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back. Umm, well, ok, said Jack, what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that? Sure! said Nate, brightening. You’re allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They’re like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can’t give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be – you still wouldn’t be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion. Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him. Well, anyway, continued Nate, I’d probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you’d be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you’d tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you’ll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me. Cure the methanol poisoning, huh? said Jack. And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn’t sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can’t ask to be rich, right? Because that’s not really a change to me? Right, nodded Nate. Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy? Jack asked, hopefully. That takes two requests, Jack. Yeah, I figured so, said Jack. But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete? Well, I could make you very smart, admitted Nate, but that wouldn’t necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldn’t necessarily make you the best athlete either. You’ve heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there’s some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can’t make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it. Hmmm, said Jack. Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one? Maybe, said Nate, it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes. Nate looked like he’d shrug, if he had shoulders. Ok, well, since I’d rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn’t sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something? No, said Nate. Just hold out your hand. Or heel. Nate grinned. Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that’s how it works – the poison, you know, Nate said apologetically. Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn’t hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it’s fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn’t hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. Hey, Jack, Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, is that someone else coming up over there? Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food? Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate… Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans… Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn’t have to hoodwink me like that. I’ve been doing this a long time, Jack, said Nate, confidently. You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you – especially one my size. And besides, admit it – it’s only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn’t hurt any more, does it? That’s because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that you’d heal quickly now. Yeah, well, still, said Jack, it’s the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn’t you have gotten my calf or something instead? More meat in the typical human butt, replied Nate. And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second. Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear, answered Jack. Ok, said Nate. Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking? Just talk, said Jack. I’ll sit here and try to not think about food. We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like, answered Nate. Hey! You didn’t tell me you had food around here, Nate! Jack jumped up. What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers? Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours. I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is, replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to. Ugh, said Jack, sitting back down. I think I’ll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And there’s nothing to burn – I’d have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk. Ok, replied Nate, still grinning. But I’d better hurry, before you start looking at me as food. Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden. Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate sceptically. Well, that’s the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack, said Nate. Stand up and look at the symbol on the rock here. Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose. Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done – it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving. Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished he’d looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky. Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh! Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate, said Jack. Which way is it back to town? And how far? I’m eventually going to have to head back – I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, I’m not sure I’ll want to. It’s about 30 miles that way. Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way he’d been going when he was crawling here. But that’s 30 miles by the way the crow flies. It’s about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack. Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it? Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway, said Nate. He figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a ‘tree’, offering ‘temptations’, making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while. Garden of Eden, hunh? said Jack. How long have you been here, Nate? No idea, really, replied Nate. A long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it’s been thousands of years, at least. Link to Part 2 = http://www.reddit.com/r/Jokes/comments/1g4u2j/lost_in_the_desert_part_2/
Who’s the laziest doctor at the hospital? ”Doctor Dolittle.” EDIT: The doctor off that movie that talks to the animals.
And she did it on the first date . . . . THE DATE……………………… Like everything in life, farts have a time and place. However, I never realized that in the wrong time and place, flatulence had enough power to alter my course in history. Well, it can if it’s the third date with the man …of your dreams. And, if it makes his eyes burn. If God destined us to be together, I was one SBD away from foiling His plans (that’s Silent But Deadly for you prudes). It was about five years ago. I was trying to lose a few pounds so I was staying away from carbs. That’s when I met my husband, Rob. On our first date, he booked the next two. He liked me. I liked him. Things were looking real good. He picked me up in a Cobra, Mustang and his pathetic attempt to win me over with a car totally worked. I’m not shallow, but since I spent most of my twenties picking men up because I didn’t want my hair to frizz in their non-air conditioned jalopies on 3 wheels and a 15 year old spare, I welcomed his fancy sports car with open arms. We arrived at the restaurant and Rob was ordering food I hadn’t allowed myself to eat in years. I didn’t want to be that girl so I ate, drank, and oh, was I merry. Later we shopped a bit. Rob surprised me by buying an expensive pair of shoes that he caught me eyeing. Was this love? That’s when it happened. Gas strikes in two different ways uncontrollable toots or sharp, shooting pains that feel a lot like dying. I thought I was dying. Not to make a scene, I told Rob I suddenly wasn’t feeling well and probably needed to head home. On the way home in his Cobra, he tried to hold my hand and ask me lots of questions, but I wasn’t having any of it. The pain was so bad it felt like I was being stabbed with a bunch of tiny forks. Then I realized My God, help me. I have a horrendous fart on deck. I’m in trouble. Big trouble. HOW DO YOU TELL A MAN YOU JUST STARTED DATING, THAT THE REASON YOU ARE WRITHING IN PAIN IS BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO FART. The more I held it in, the more pain would shoot through my stomach and down my legs. I was even having to raise myself off the seat, gripping on to my door and the dashboard. Seriously, you need to hurry I’m in a lot of pain. I managed to say through gritted teeth. Wow, it’s that bad? What’s wrong? Do I need to take you to a hospital? How do you tell a man you just started dating that the reason you’re writhing in pain is because you have to fart? Well, you can either tell him, or like me, let the fart speak for itself. People, hear me. There was nothing I could do. As impressive as I am with sphincter control, this was out of my hands. Slowly, it eeked out. The more I tried to stop it, the more it forced its way through the door. However, to my pleasant surprise, there was no sound. I sat silently, sweat accumulating above my upper lip. Ok, maybe I got away with it. Maybe I’m home free. Then it hit me. Not an idea, a cloud. A horrific, fart cloud. Not in a, am I smelling something? sort of way. More like a is someone dead and rotting in your trunk and am I in hell? sort of way. Suddenly, I panicked. Roll down the windows! I screamed (yes, I literally screamed it like I was in a horror movie). What? Why? Rob asked, starting to freak out because I was freaking out. I can’t roll down the windows, unlock it! UNLOCK IT! What’s going on? Rob yells back to me, Why are you then it hit him. I could see it in his eyes. Was it surprise? Horror? Water started to accumulate at the base of his eyelids, Oh my God, I CAN TASTE IT! he screamed. Roll down the windows! As I screamed, the toots started to flood out uncontrollably. I scratched and clawed at the window like I was being kidnapped. Rob, unable to see either by fart cloud or panic, kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of unlocking the window. It was chaos. We were acting like we were under siege by gun fire. We were under siege alright, just not by gun fire. Finally he was able to hit the right control and he rolled down our windows. We both gulped in fresh air. I was horrified, yet happy to be alive, then remembered I just farted on the man of dreams, then sorta wished I was dead. We sat silently for the rest of the way home. Although the shooting pains had subsided, I now desperately needed to use the bathroom, in an urgent, explosive kind of way. He pulled up to my apartment and before he could come to a stop I had already jumped out, Ok, thanks for dinner, sorry about the fart, love the shoes! and ran in to my apartment like I was running from the cops. I burst through my door and ran straight for the bathroom, where I was finally able to unleash and make noises that no one should ever, EVER, hear coming from another person. Then I heard it. Rob’s voice. Right. Outside. My. Bathroom. Door. Anna? You left your shoes in my car and your front door was open. Where do you want me to put them? Get away from the door! I scream like Reagan from The Exorcist. Ok, I’m sorry. Are you okay? toot toot splatter ungodly noise I’m fine, Rob just leave the shoes there. I’ll call you later okay? Okay, are you sure you’re I’m fine! Get away from the door! This man! I mean, I love him, but take a freakin’ hint! Finally, I heard the front door shut, and the Cobra engine zoom away. I thought that was the last I’d hear from him. I didn’t think it was possible to ever see a man again after he screams he can taste your fart after only knowing you for 48 hours. But, to my surprise, I did. A couple days later, actually. Now we’re married and he’s lying on the couch while I type this It was your rack that saved you, he just lovingly reminded me.
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