The Joke thread - it's back!

[Sequinox]

We've had a couple of them here by now.

Now, I remember some pretty good ones, such as the dog and the guy that walk up to the bar, and a really long one that was too long to be posted about a guy lost in a desert who finds a snake named Nate (who turns out to be the snake from the bible) who makes deals... If the person with the second one's still around, I'd like to see that one.

Now, basic rules:

Dirty Jokes (that are appropriate enough to be posted here) get posted in a spoiler box. So do blonde jokes, and long jokes. Label the spoiler box, too, so that you can see what's inside before you open it.

(That's all)

Go nuts!

[someonenonotyou]

why did the chicken cross the road?
the get to the other side!

why did the chicken cross the playground?
the get to the other slide!

why did the chicken cross THE Playground?
to get away from you!

hahahaha i crack myself up:smallbiggrin:

[Sequinox]

The last one actually made me laugh...

Nice.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Okay, here's one about a talking dog.

A man is passing by a house, and he sees a sign out front that says "Talking Dog for Sale. Inquire Within." Naturally, he's curious, so he does in and meets the owner.

"Hello sir! I, um, noticed the sign out there says there's a talking dog for sale?"

"Yup. He's in th' back if ya wanna talk with him."

So the man goes out to the backyard and sees the dog in his doghouse. He goes over and says "Speak boy!" to the dog.

"Why hello there!" the dog replies.

"Wow! You really can talk!"

"Indeed I can. You see, when I was a puppy, I thought it would be a good idea to learn a foreign language. It was a big help when I worked for the CIA. No one would suspect a dog to understand their secret conversations..."

The dog goes on to describe his illustrious career working undercover, and helping put some of the biggest drug cartels away for good. The man is astonished.

"You're worth every penny!" he exclaims. He goes back inside and asks the owner to name his price.

"Five bucks." the owner replies.

"Five bucks?! You've gotta be kidding! You have a real talking dog!"

"Yup," says the owner, "but I'll tell ya a little secret. That dog can talk alright, but he's a gall dang liar!"

[Innis Cabal]

Where do you find a dog with no legs
where you left it

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs on a wall?
Art

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in front of a door?
Matt

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pool?
Bob

[Grail]

What's the difference between Mick Jagger and a Scotsman?
Mick Jagger says, "Hey you, get off ma cloud"
A Scotsman says "Hey McCloud, get off ma Ewe"

[Project_Mayhem]

How do you frustrate an idiot?

x

[Storm Bringer]

how do you keep an idiot buys for hours?

just click here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=102142).

[late for dinner]

Two Muffins were sitting in an oven. One muffin turns to the other muffin and says, "Boy it's hot in here." The other muffin replies, "HOLY CRAP! A TALKING MUFFIN!!"

How much do Reindeer cost?

Nothing they are on the House.


Why is gambling illegal in Africa??

There are too many Cheetahs

[Grail]

Two fish are swiming through the water really fast. One of them suddenly slams into a wall. The other turns around winces and says "Dam!"

[Sneak]

I'm guessing dead baby jokes are a no-no? :smalltongue:

Anyway:

What's a pirate's favorite letter?

P! It's like an R, but it's missing a leg! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! :smalltongue:

Another:

A termite walks into a bar and asks:

"Is the bar tender here?" AHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Also:

So, a guy guys goes to the new trendy bar on top of the empire state building...

It's pretty late, so there's just one other man at the bar in addition to the bartender. The new guy sits down and orders a drink, and the two men sit at the bar, nursing their drinks, without talking. Y'know, just like real men do at bars. :smalltongue: The other man suddenly gets ups, angrily shouts "I've HAD it!" He walks over to the window, opens it up, and jumps out. The bartender seems unconcerned, but the new guy is shocked and horrified. He rushes over to the open window and looks down, expecting to see a large red stain on the pavement. Suddenly, the other man flies back up through the window into the bar and lands on his feet with a small "whew!" The new guy is absolutely astonished.

"But you're—what? You should be DEAD!"

The other man laughs. "Oh, I'm a regular here, and that's just a little trick I play on newcomers sometimes. See, there's some kind of weird air vent right outside that window, and if you jump out, you'll fall down for a while and then it'll carry you right back up. It's amazing, and it feels so exhilarating."

The new guy shakes his head in amazement. "I've gotta try that out!"

With a little encouragement from the other man, the new guy works up his courage and then finally hurls himself out the window with a running start.

A loud "SPLAT!" noise can be heard from outside.

The bartender shakes his head at the regular patron.

"You know, Superman, you're really a jerk when you're drunk."

One more joke:

So there are two baseball players that are practicing together, one pitching and one batting. The pitcher keeps throwing pitch after pitch, and the batter keeps hitting them out of the park. Eventually, the pitcher starts getting frustrated. In an attempt to finally "beat" the batter, he switches the ball for a brick and throws a fastball (fastbrick, technically) towards the batter.

The batter's eyes go wide, but the brick is coming too fast for him to run away, so he swings at it, hoping that he'll survive.

He hits it and the brick goes flying up into the air.

It never comes back down.

[snoopy13a]

An old man, a boy scout and a politician are traveling in a plane. The engines fail and the plane is about to crash. The pilot and co-pilot grab parachutes and jump out leaving only two chutes for the three passengers.

The politician says: "I'm an important politician so I deserve to take one of the chutes. You two can fight over the last one." He then jumps out of the plane. The old man says to the boy scout: "Son, I've lived a long life, you can take the last chute.". The scout replys: "Don't worry about it mister, the politician jumped out with my backpack"

Three men are captured by desert bandits. The leader of the bandits sentences them to death by firing squad, one at a time. The first man is about to be shot when he comes up with a clever idea. He shouts: "Sandstorm!" and all the bandits run away, allowing him to escape.

The second man hears this and when he is about to be shot, he not-so-cleverly yells: "Flood!". Luckily, the desert bandits are somehow fooled and run away allowing him to escape.

The third man is very confident when he led to the firing squad as he knows that he'll fool the stupid bandits. Just before they are about to shoot, he yells: "Fire!"

Two men find a magic lamp and summon a genie. The genie agrees to grant them one wish apiece. The first man says: "I wish to be the smartest man in the world" The genie agree and turns the man into the smartest man in the world. The second man says: "I wish to be smarter than the smartest man in the world. The genie turns him into a woman.

[Sequinox]

I'm guessing dead baby jokes are a no-no? :smalltongue:



Was that a dark tower reference?

[Tengu_temp]

One more joke:

So there are two baseball players that are practicing together, one pitching and one batting. The pitcher keeps throwing pitch after pitch, and the batter keeps hitting them out of the park. Eventually, the pitcher starts getting frustrated. In an attempt to finally "beat" the batter, he switches the ball for a brick and throws a fastball (fastbrick, technically) towards the batter.

The batter's eyes go wide, but the brick is coming too fast for him to run away, so he swings at it, hoping that he'll survive.

He hits it and the brick goes flying up into the air.

It never comes back down.

Hmm. I don't get it.

[TheBST]

The Talking Monkey:

Fred, a zoology student is sitting at home reading the papers, brainstorming for ideas for his final thesis. After flicking through paper after paper, magazine after magazine, he finds an article in a back issue of National Geographic: TALKING MONKEY RUMORED TO BE FOUND IN INDIA.

Naturally skeptical, but curious and desperate for the basis of a thesis, he emails the article's writer. A day or two later he gets a response and agrees to meet with the writer at a cafe.

They meet up, order coffee, make small talk until Fred gets down to business.

-Yeah the monkey exists alright, the writer confirms. Conversationally too, in plain English. I've met him. I can give your directions to get there, too/ but they have a few rules: No cameras or video equipment, no metaphysical discussion (it just upsets him) and on no account are you allowed to touch him. At all.

So Fred, feeling adventurous gets on the next flight to Calcutta to meet the writer's contact, Shabbir. Fred steps out of the airport and hails a cab. The taxi driver asks him.

-Where to, my friend
-Uh, this address here [hands paper]
-Oh, going to see Shabbir about the talking monkey, yes?
-Yep
-Oh, long journey. Long journey. But you must obey rules.

They pull up at Shabbir's house. Fred knocks and eneters. Shabbir glares at him with a thousand-yard stare, appraising the nebbish student and not finding much to recommend.

-This will be a hard journey. Through dense jungles and up unforgiving mountains. This is your last chance to turn back.

Fred's already invested so much time and money that he's prepared to this through to the end. So they set off.

After a 3 day jeep ride they arrive at the Jungles. Shabbir hands Fred a machete and they venture in. The noises of creatures civilization will never even see fill the air. Snakes move though the underbrush. There's no respite from the heat,

A week later of sleepless nights, Fred arrives at the base of the mountain with Shabbir.

-From here, you go alone, says Shabbir, handing Fred a rope. You can follow the paths of the men before you- may the monkey bring you the wisdom you have quested for.

Fred screams at Shabbir to get back here and help him, not being, as he puts it, 'Edmund Bastard Hillary', but Shabbir folds into the treeline without looking back. Fred stares as far up as he can before clouds block his view of the mountaintop. He grunts and gets to work.

Feet bleeding and energy spent, Fred navigates through the paths and courses left by previous explorers and wisdom seekers until he reaches a cave about 80ft from the summit. He collapses ina heap at the entrance.

A hand helps him to his feet.

-Congratulations, traveler! You are here for the Talking Monkey, yes?

Fred nods, grit falling out his hair.

-Ok, well put your feet up for a bit. My name is Ravi, secretary to Steve.
-Steve?
-Yes. Steve the Wise....our simian guru?

Fred rests on a beanbag in the corner and looks around- the cave has been converted into an office, whith lighting, filing cabinets, a water cooler. Ravi pour him a cup of water and crouches down beside him.

-Now, when you're ready to meet Steve remember the rules: no recording technology- audio or visual. No metaphysics. And absolutely no touching him. At all. I am serious as a school ma'am. No physical contact. Agreed?

Fred nods and rises. Brushing himself off, he heads towards a long passageway, adorned by a sign reading 'WISE STEVE: THE SAPIENT SIMIAN. ANSWERS WITHIN'.

The passageway goes on and on, stretching out like a graveyard shift. Two hours later, Fred reaches a small chamber. Inside, on a futon, sitting in the lotus position, is a chimpanzee. Stratching himself while reading Film Fun.
the monkey raises it eyes to Fred's.

-Can I help you at all, mate?

Fred falls backwards with shock.

-Oh my jesus, you can-
-Yes, yes, I can talk, woo-hah, Steve the monkey interrupts. Can we save the shock and awe please, I'm scheduled to do something extremely biological in a bit and then I'll have to wash the futon and then-
-Yes,Yes! Sure!

Fred pulls a battered notebook from his pocket and begins his questions. He can only vaguely concentrate on what he writes as his mind fills with fantasies of awards, PhD research, a lifetime legacy of this moment. He asks the monkey about achieving sentience ('Not much an achievement from my perspective mate. A sense of hygiene in the jungle doesn't make you popular, no what I mean?), how he learned English ('Found a copy of Keanu Reeves' Biography. Already eaten half the pages. THen I popped into town and saw 2001. So patronizing to my kind..)

Eventually, Steve the monkey cuts off the interview. Fred thanks him for his time, a little too much, and prepares to leave. The monkey sticks his head back in the magazine. Fred pauses at the entrance to the passageway. Glances back at Steve. Knackered from travel, Fred's powers of reason are capsized by the human need to always- always[I]- push the big, shiny red button. 'Why can't I touch the monkey? Not even shake his hand after all this? What'll happen if I just touch the monkey lightly- just a quick brush of the fingers and then leave?'. Ignoring what everyone has told him, Fred sidles up to the monkey and gives him a light poke- *boink* on the forehead.

Oh dear.

The monkey throws his magazine and eyeballs Fred, temple throbbing, pupils narrowing, fangs bared. It screams, failing it's arms and then [I]leaps.

Fred's thoughts are shanghaied by one directive: RUUUNNNN!!!!

He leg's it down the passageway. Though faster than the monkey, he can hear it's footsteps not too far behind, accompanied by screams of primeval rage,

Making it out, Fred bursts into the office. Ravi stares at him.

-Oh. Was enlightment that disturbing?
-No, dammit! Fred gulps in pints of air, his neck snapping back and forth to see if the monkey is near. Your monkey's gone crazy!
-Why would he- Oh. Oh GOD. You touched him, didn't you? Didn't you?!
-..a *gulp* bit, yeah
-God help us all! FLEE YOU IDIOT!

Ravi runs into a door- a panic room of somekind and slams it, setting of a regiment of deadbolts and chain locks. Fred can hear the footstep encroaching on him and flies from the office onto the mountainside.

Fred scrambles down the mountain. Looking up he can see the monkey about 50 feet above, screaming and spitting, pointing a gnarled finger towards him. More scared of the mpnkey than gravity, he make shis way down the cliffs, stumbling and nearly loosing his footing several times.

Hours later, the monkey still in pursuit like Javert on crank. Fred reaches the foot of the mountain. CLothes tattered, senses wavering. Hearing the monkey unleash a scream that would halt an army, he charges towards the treeline, stumbling over the roots, stepping on snakes, terror holding his mind hostage.

Fred finds cover under the roots of a massive tree. He barely sleeps, hearing the screams of the monkey booming over the sounds of the Indian night.

The next morning Fred wakes up and makes his way back onto the path. He raises his water bottle to his lips, to take a sip. He looks up. The monkey is sprinting down the path.

Fred abandons his water and continues to flee through the jungle.

As sunset approaches, he finally makes his way back to Calcutta. He runs into the middle of the road, waving his arms to stop a car. A taxi screeches, millimeters away from hitting him. Fred yanks open the door and scrambles in. From behind the front seat,the same taxi driver smiles down at him.

-Fred! Where to now, my friend?
-Airport! AIRPORT. Fred yells. The cabbie looks confused, sets the meter and drives on. A mile from the airport, he finally dares to speak.

-Did you find your talking monkey?
-Never mind that! Fred yells, talking his eyes from the rear window for the first time in half an hour. It's him finding me that's the problem and- oh. OH GOD.

The monkey is in the back seat of a cab following Fred's barking orders at a horrified cabbie and pointing towards Fred.

-He's HERE! He just won't stop!
-Why? Why would the monkey- did you touch him?
-Yes! But why-

The cab has stopped. The driver is long-distancing his way into an alleyway. Fred screams and gets out, dashing the last half mile into the airport.

Barking at the stewards he buffaloes his way through security and onto a plane waiting to return to England. Fred scrunches into a ball in his seat, eyes darting, cringing his way through take-off. After several hours of sleep, he swims back into consciousness and stretches out. Something catches his eye. Out the window. He screams in horror.

A yellow biplane is flying parallel to the jet. The monkey is at the helm. He makes unheard roars towards Fred- misting up his own goggles. Fred begins to weep like an infant.

As the plane lands, Fred dives out and runs away from the terminals across the runway. As the monkey's biplane lands, Fred sees a baggage car nearby. He leaps feet first, drop kicking the baggage man out of the driver's seat and speeds off. He crashes through the Airport's security fence and into his own car.

Driving back, Fred realizes he's wet himself in fear and can't focus on the road. He scrunches his eyes and bites his cheeks to help remain focused. He looks out the rear view mirror.

The monkey is in pursuit. On a motorcycle. It pulls alongside Fred, takes of it's helmet and smashes it against the driver's window. Fred can't scream for a ragged throat, and jerks his car into the monkey's bike, ramming it off the road and into a shopfront. Fred pulls into 5th gear and screams down the streets at nearly 60 mph, all regard for anyone else's safety gone forever.

He pulls up outside his own house. Yanking his keys out of his pocket, he finds he can't hold them steady enough to slot them into the lock. In mortal terror, he instead picks up a brick and smashes his own front window and climbs into his house.

Inside Fred grabs the biggest knife he can find and swaggers into a cupboard. Crouching down and peering throught the slits in the door, he tries to catch his breath.

*knock knock*

Fred bites his own hand in fear. THe knock continues, harder, rattling his front door.

*knock knock knock KNOCK SMASH*

The monkey has broken down the front door. It steps into the room and sniffs the air. Fred begins to cry.

The monkey wanders around, smelling the air until it stops- outside the cupboard. Its eyes go large and red. The monkey rips off the cupbaord doors and stares at Fred, seething like a Diesel, fists clenched.

Fred pathetically waves the knife at the monkey, who slaps it out of Fred's hand. Fred curls into the fetal position and grasps his head, sobbing.

The moneky grabs him by the hair and pulls Fred up, face to face again, eyes like a demon, fangs drawing blood from it's own lips. It raises it's hand, extends a finger and...

...pokes Fred on the forehead. *boink*

-TAG, Y'BASTARD!


I apologise for nothing.

[Gwyn chan 'r Gwyll]

That took less time to read the Nate joke, and was pretty funny too.

[Sneak]

Hmm. I don't get it.

Really? Oh well.

Alright, to make up for that dud, I've got another one.

So..there's a rich lemonade tycoon who's taking two guests up to his super secret party mansion in Belize. Just like most rich lemonade tycoons, he's got some pretty eccentric friends. He's sitting up top next to the pilot, while in the back are his two friends, a fat man in a suit smoking a cigar and a woman with a noisy parrot on her shoulder. The two passengers haven't met before, and they're starting to get a little annoyed with each other. The woman suddenly turns to the man and shouts, "Look, can you stop smoking that cigar in here! It probably probably breaks at least ten aircraft laws, and, quite frankly, it's just disgusting. It's not like there's anywhere for the smoke to air out to." The man turns to the woman, a bit angry himself now, and says, "Come on, lady. You're in here with squawking, obnoxious, disease-ridden parrot and you're on MY case about one little cigar! What nerve you got!"

They bicker and quarrel for a while before the man with the cigar has decided that he has had enough. "Look, alright," he says. "I'll make a compromise, ok? If YOU get rid of your STUPID, YAPPING bird-monstrosity, I'll get rid of my goddam cigar. We got a deal?" The woman makes a big fuss, not wanting to relinquish her beloved pet parrot. But after a while, she simply cannot stand the smoke anymore and agrees to the deal.

They open a window (it's a magic plane that defies the laws of the universe) and each throw out their respective items: the man grunts and tosses out his still lit cigar, while the woman sobs and bids goodbye to her dear sweet feathery friend Alfonso.

They both sit in awkward silence for a while, both still mad at each other. The woman looks like she is about to speak, but suddenly before she opens her mouth, something flies in through the still-open window and startles them both:

A BRICK! :smallbiggrin:

Yeah, alright, I admit it...that wasn't at all funny. You win some, you lose some, eh? :smalltongue:

But, if it's any consolation, the joke even has it's own page on TVTropes (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BrickJoke). :smalltongue:

[Mauve Shirt]

Some bar jokes that I am fond of.

A skeleton walks into a bar and asks for a beer and a mop.

Two guys walk into a bar. The third one ducks.

A rabbi, a priest and a buddhist monk walk into a bar. The bartender says "What is this, some kinda joke?"

A duck walks into a bar. He says to the bartender "You got any grapes?"
"No, we don't have any grapes."
The duck comes back the next day. "You got any grapes?"
"No, we still don't have any grapes."
And the next day. "You got any grapes?"
"No, we STILL don't have any grapes, and if you ask me again, I'll nail your feet to the bar."
The duck returns the next day and asks "You got any nails?"

This one's kinda religious, but not really.
This fellow is taking skydiving lessons. The instructor says "So when you jump out, you pull this cord, and your parachute will come out. Pull this cord if that cord fails to work for the emergency chute. And if neither of those work, shout "BUDDHA!" As loud as you can."
The guy thinks that's kind of odd, but whatever. He jumps out, pulls the cord, chute doesn't work, pulls the second, still doesn't work. He doesn't know what else to do and he shouts "BUDDHA!!!"
A hand forms out of clouds, catches the skydiver and starts lowering him back to the ground. In relief he cries "Oh, thank God!" The hand turns over and squishes him.

[Flame of Anor]

A few quick ones to start:


How many straight San Franciscans does it take to change a lightbulb?
Both of them.

How much money does a flower have?
One (s)cent.

How many Dadaists does it take to change a lightbulb?
Twelve decahedron postholer monkey bubble enshrine porthole mud.

How is a raven like a writing-desk?
They both have inky quills.

How many Surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb?
Two: one to get the giraffe, and one to fill the bathtub with brightly-colored machine tools.

How many feminists does it take to change a lightbulb?
That's not funny!

How many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb?
One, but the lightbulb has to want to change.

Why is a Triscuit factory different from a joke that you tell to a Wisconsin football team?
One packs up crackers, and the other cracks up Packers.

How many drow does it take to change a lightbulb?
Drow like the dark, silly. They use darkbulbs.

How many drow does it take to change a darkbulb, then?
Five. One to unscrew the darkbulb, one to stab him and put in a specially sabotaged darkbulb of his own, one to incite a slave rebellion that destroys a house higher in the rankings, one to be sacrificed to Lloth, and one to leave behind the evil ways of his kin and seek acceptance in the world beyond.

How many infomercials does it take to change a lightbulb?
You'd think just one--but wait, there's more!

How many video-game companies does it take to change a lightbulb?
Two--Nintendo to put out a Wii Lightbulb Change game and Sony to sulk in the corner.



A longer one:
Two ropes are walking down the street. They are thirsty, so they decide to go into a bar and get a drink. But the bar says, "No Ropes Served Here". One of them decides he'll try it anyway. He goes in and the bartender says,

"Hey! You one of them ropes?"

"Yes..."

"WE DON'T SERVE ROPES HERE!!!"

And he beats up the rope and throws him out.

Now the second rope is kind of scared, but he's really thirsty, so he decides to disguise himself. He twists into a pretzel shape and fluffs his ends. Then he goes in. And the bartender says,

"Hey! You one of them gol-durn'd ropes???"

"No sir...I'm a frayed knot!"

[Project_Mayhem]

Two fat flies are lazing around in the sun, digesting a particularly filling meal.

A third fly comes up, looks at their distended bellys, and asks 'Wow, what the heck were you guys eating?'

The first fly sits up, and replies 'Well, first we had an exquisite duck paté, followed by heaps of gorgeous caviar. Dessert was a selection of fine farmyard cheeses, accompanied by a vintage merlot. The whole experience was sublime'

The third fly opens his eyes and says 'Don't listen to him, he's full of crap'.





rimshot

[someonenonotyou]

ok heres one

A neutron walks into a bar and asks "how much dose a beer cost " the bartender replies "for you No charge".

[Evil DM Mark3]

Ok so a man is driving down a motorway (or freeway if you are an American) to get to a job interview with a security company, but that is not important. What is important is the fact that he is driving on an open road with a speed limit of 70mph. He is not speeding, well, not much anyway, 72-73, you know, not more than anyone else anyway. The road is clear, it is quite early and on a Wednesday you know anyway he sees a small smudge in his rear view mirror. He thinks nothing of it. A few minutes later he looks at it again and it has gotten bigger. He is obviously shocked, he is doing no more than 75-76ish and something is gaining on him. I mean come on that is just bad driving.

Anyway he banks with the road and looses the blob a bit and then, as the road straightens out again he sees the object more clearly in his mirror. He does a double take.

Its a chicken.

A chicken.

It gains on him and his 78-79ish, around junction 9, it sticks out its wing and overtakes.

Now there are many things a man might do for his future and a nice job but being overtaken by a chicken is not one of them. He pushes up the speed. He follows it for a mile and then takes a slip road still doing 60. He picks up a police car behind him but he doesn't care.

He goes down the A road, police still follow.

He goes down the B road, police still follow.

He goes past the pub, he looses the police.

He goes down a country lane at 30 and just manages to see the chicken pull into a farmyard. Where there is a boy with a stopwatch timing the run.

He pulls in himself and sees a distracted looking farmer sitting there with his hands in his face.

"Um, hello?"
"Ooh ar?" (for he was a farmer from cliche land.) "What be you doing here there?"
"Um, well this sounds strange I know, but I got overtaken by one of your chickens."
"AH yes. Well ye see, me wife, meself and the four kids, we all like a leg o' chicken Sunday dinner see? Well I got meself along to that there genetic reserch lab and the 'elped me breed a chicken with six legs."
"Wow. What do they taste like?"
"YOU TRY DAMN WELL CATCHING ONE!"

[Surfing HalfOrc]

Here's a good one for weddings: A bit "Adult" in nature.

A young couple has just arrived at the hotel for their honeymoon. Once the door is closed they begin to undress.

But suddenly, the husband gets an idea.

"Hey, baby, do me a favor. Try putting my pants on!"

The bride is a bit confused, but puts the pants on. Since she's a petite little thing, and he's big and buff, the pants just fal down to the ground.

"Oh, honey! I can't wear these!" exclaims the bride.

"That's right! I'm the man, I wear the pants in the family!"

The bride nods, and says to her husband:

"Here sweetie, try these on!" as she slips out of her panties.

The man tries and tries to pull the panties on for his wife, but can't get them up over his knees.

"Baby! I can't get into these!"

The wife gives him a hard look and answers:

"That's right. You keep up that attatude of yours, and you never will!"

A Lone Ranger Joke. Also a bit "Adult" in nature.


The Lone Ranger and Tonto were out in the country, traveling from one town to the next. Deciding it was time to break for camp, they tied their horses up and set about gathering wood and all the other tasks that need to be done to camp overnight. After a bit, the Lone Ranger felt the need to take a leak, and stepped behind a tree to relieve himself.

Unfortunatly, he didn't see the rattlesnake waiting behind the tree! The snake struck, and bit him right on the end of his penis!

Needless to say, the Lone Ranger was in a great deal of pain, and Tonto told him to hold on to his member to prevent the poison from spreading, until he could find out what to do from a doctor or medicine man.

Tonto leaped onto the back of Scout, and rode off to find some medical advice. The crossed the river, rode down into a valley, up the other side, raced past a bear, and finally rode into town where a doctor was just closing up his office after helping to deliver a baby.

"Doctor, my friend needs help! He was bitten by a snake!" says Tonto to the doctor.

"Well, this is what you have to do. Take your knife, cut an "X" over the puncture points, and suck the poison out. Then dress the wound with clean cloth, and everything should be ok."

Tonto thanked the doctor, jumped back on his horse, and rode all the way back to where the Lone Ranger was waiting.

"Tell me Tonto, what did the doctor say?" asked the Lone Ranger.

"Doctor say... Doctor say, 'You gonna die!'"

[late for dinner]

the brick and the monkey jokes are now in my most favorite jokes ever collection....

[Headless_Ninja]

A neutron walks into a bar and asks "how much dose a beer cost " the bartender replies "for you No charge".

Ok, you asked for this.

Two atoms are walking along when one of them suddenly stops.
"Oh no!" He says. "I think I've lost an electron!"
"Are you sure?" asks his friend.
"Yes!" he replies. "I'm positive!"

[Hzurr]

How many Freudians does it take to change a lightbulb?
Two. One to hold the ladder, and the other to change the penis. Er...I mean, lightbulb!

[Thiel]

Jeremy believes in himself.
Others prefers a more mainstream religion.

[Innis Cabal]

A woman walks into a bar with a duck under her arm. A local drunk looks up and asks "What are you doing with that pig? The woman turns on him and curtly replies "This is a duck you idiot." The drunk only nods "I know, I was talking to the duck."


A man had five sons. He was very proud of this fact. So proud infact, he began to call his wife, mother of five. She on the other hand, was not so found of the title. So, one night as they were leaving a party the man called out "Lets go home mother of five." On her last nerve the woman snaps back "Alright father of three."

[hamishspence]

the story that makes me think of:

A man is driving down a winding country road. a woman comes round a steep bend and yells: "PIG!" The man yells: "B*TCH!" He goes round the bend and crashes into a pig lying on his side of the road.

[Rogue 7]

A man had five sons. He was very proud of this fact. So proud infact, he began to call his wife, mother of five. She on the other hand, was not so found of the title. So, one night as they were leaving a party the man called out "Lets go home mother of five." On her last nerve the woman snaps back "Alright father of three."

Oh god, that one's awesome!

[Innis Cabal]

I try my best. The PG13 forum thing cuts my jokes down i'm afraid

[Storm Bringer]

how many politicians does it take to change a light bulb?


doesn't matter how many you have, none of them will trust any of the others to hold the ladder steady.


How many Real Men does it take to change a light bulb?



Real Men are not afraid of the dark!


longish one:


An elderly and wealthy gentleman married a rather pretty young lady, and much to everones suprise, the lady was soon expectant.

9 months later, at the hospital, the nurse was talk to the gentleman shortly after the birth. "You know, I'm amazed that a man of your age could still father a child". The man just smiled and said "you gotta keep the old motor running."

while everyone was suprised at the brith of the first baby, they were astonded when they found out the young bride was pregeant again less than 6 months later. In due course, the bady was born. the same nurse brought the news to the happy husband. "Not once, but Twice. that is impressive" she told him. He just smiled and said "you gotta keep the old motor running."

Now, people thought this was a stellar proformance by the husband, but when news got out of a third child, they were gobsmacked. At the hospital, the nurse once agian found the husband, immediatly after the birth. "Congratulations, mister, you have a wouldful bady son. How do you do it?" she asked

He just smiled and repeated "you gotta keep the old motor running."

she laughed and said "well, you better change the oil. this one's black"

[Sneak]

How many boring people does it take to change a lightbulb?

One.

How many indie kids does it take to change a lightbulb?

Eh, it's a really obscure number, you've probably never heard of it.

[hamishspence]

In a similar vein.
on his deathbed, surrounded by his eight handsome, clever, and rich sons, and one stupid, obnonxious and ugly one, the old man asks his wife quietly "I've just got to ask, is he mine?" She says "Yes." and he dies.

She then thinks: "Thank goodness he didn't ask about the other eight!"

[Fredthefighter]

Here I go (These are all from "The Best of Bar-Room Jokes", presented by FHM magazine)
1) What would it take to reunite the Beatles?
Answer: A couple of bullets should do

2) Two cows are in a field. One says to the other,
"What do you make of this mad cow disease?",
The other one says "Doesn't affect me mate."
"Oh, yeah? Why's that?"
"Because I'm a helicopter!"

3) A doctor is examining a young girl of admirable proportions. Holding his stethoscope up to her chest, he says "Okay, big breaths"
"Yeth," said the girl, "and I'm only thixteen"

[Project_Mayhem]

How many Black Belts does it take to screw in a light bulb?

He's Dead!

[TheBST]

How many emos does it take to change a lightbulb?
Doesn't matter, they'd rather sit in the dark and cry!

How many protesters does it take to change a lighbulb?
Doesn't matter, protesters never change anything

What's the difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish funeral?
one less alcoholic

What? I'm allowed to mock my own heritage.

[Grail]

Superman is flying through the air, using his x-ray vision when he spies
Wonder Woman, naked, lying on a bed with legs astride. Faster than a speeding bullet he zooms in through the window, does his thing and is out before Wonder Woman knows what's happened.

Confused, Wonder Woman looks up and says "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know", says the Invisible Man, "but my arse sure hurts!"

[Fredthefighter]

Superman is flying through the air, using his x-ray vision when he spies
Wonder Woman, naked, lying on a bed with legs astride. Faster than a speeding bullet he zooms in through the window, does his thing and is out before Wonder Woman knows what's happened.

Confused, Wonder Woman looks up and says "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know", says the Invisible Man, "but my arse sure hurts!"

Bravo sir, Bravo.

[Ghastly Epigram]

Here is that Nate/desert one you asked for. Needs to be put over two posts because of its length. >.>

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."

[Ghastly Epigram]

Continued from above!

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 place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?"

"Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened his
coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into
the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to
enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned
over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as
Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but
Nate was suddenly there in the way.

"You can't touch that yet, Jack," said Nate.

"Why not?" asked Jack.

"I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate.

"Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You'd push it
that way, and it would move in the slot."

"Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate.

"What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?"

"Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it
'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing
voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and
grinned.

Jack was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinned
Jack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it
really do?"

"Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thought
the voice I used was funny, didn't you?"

Nate continued to grin.

"A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for? Why
would anyone need to end humanity?"

"Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment.
Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really
bad, there should be a way to end it. I'm not really sure. All I know are
the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it's here. I
didn't think to ask back when I started here."

"Rules? What rules?" asked Jack.

"The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch it
unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human
can be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate.

Jack looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now?
You'd let me end humanity?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Jack carefully. "Do
you want to, Jack?"

"Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why in
the world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to want
that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too,
wouldn't it?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "being as he'd be human too."

"Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Nate. "Any of those bound
to secrecy, that is?"

"Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time or
another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and
think, or so I'm told. Samuel considered it several times. He'd often get
disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while.
But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more.

Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at
the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of
humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?"

"That seems to be it," agreed Nate.

"What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make this
decision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them are
bad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?"

"Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It's
up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposed
to know."

"But what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel
horrible? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?"
protested Jack.

Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have to
try your best, Jack."

Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly
getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.

Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel the
one bound to this before me?"

"Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to
read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried
in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months
ago."

"Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when you
first told him. What did he do?"

"Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and
then asked me some questions, much like you're doing."

"What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Jack.

"He asked me about the third request," replied Nate.

"Aha!" It was Jack's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request
you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point
that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come here
and end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked serious
again. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Jack."

"Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.

Nate watched him, waiting.

"Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for with
his third request?"

Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly,
"Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him."

"Ok," said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give it
to me.

Nate looked at Jack's backside. "Give you what, Jack?"

"Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped
him, maybe it'll help me too." Jack turned his head to look back over his
shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?"

"He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter afterward.
Like he had a lot to think about."

"Well, yeah, I can see that," said Jack. "So, give it to me." Jack turned to
face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.

Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now,
Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.

"You remember that you'll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like
it needs it, right Jack?" asked Nate, shifting position.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body
tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate's voice.

"And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'll
turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?"

"Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes,
straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there.
With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot
in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.

Jack heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt the
now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.

Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet
extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to
the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd been
recently bitten.

Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped
bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever,
his tongue flicking out into the desert night's air the only sign that he
was still awake.

Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he
thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.

"Nate, do accidents count?"

Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?"

Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know,
accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does
that still wipe out humanity?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Jack. I'd suggest you be careful about that
if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement.

A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Jack.

"That's the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate.

"No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull
the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a
rock?"

"Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicated
you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote
control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone by
the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that
in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they
wouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or
whatever had disappeared."

"Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him
off of the stone and looked up into the sky.

"Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too,
right?" asked Jack.

"Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack."

"Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long.
Do you know what he died of, Nate?"

"He died of getting tired of living, Jack," Nate said, sounding somewhat
sad.

Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.

Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in
society. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and start
questioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. He
faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and
he could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but he
liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway.

"His daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didn't
stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend
time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he
told me he'd had enough. It was his time."

"And then he just died?" asked Jack.

Nate shook his head a little. "He made his forth request, Jack. There's only
one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.

After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was his
time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always
had.

After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel's body disappeared off the stone
with the sunrise."

Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his
memories. It was a long time until Jack's breathing evened out into sleep.

Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with
the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except
that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat.

So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to
get back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Jack started the long
walk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he made
it back easily.

Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day,
little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert
and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with
a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV.
They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without
incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate's
lever, though their path back didn't come within sight of it.

Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including a
book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning to
avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to see
Nate.

Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new
backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then
started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he
knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn't unheard of,
and shouldn't really raise suspicions.

Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers.
Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world,
others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate,
and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, but
that he had things to do first.

Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought
a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger,
special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a
special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot
rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out
its location to the satellite.

After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him
fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.

After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he
'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years,
working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhile
any more. Jack went back to school.

Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps
because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote,
and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started
traveling around the country for book signings and readings.

But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.

On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been
a fountain of joy lately. Jack's best guess was that Nate was still missing
Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn't been able to replace
Samuel in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this
visit Nate didn't even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at
Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate's
silence, sat down and waited.

After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you to."

Jack looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Jack looked around, and
then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big Guy?

"No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my son."
Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Sammy!"

Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the
dune and up to the stone base of the lever.

"Yo, Jack," said the new, much smaller snake.

"Yo, Sammy" replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. "Named after Samuel, I
assume?"

Nate nodded. "Jack, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around
for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the
edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told me
about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go
see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the
other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to
have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I
have been.

"He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear
that it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have
that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?"

Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn't even
joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I can
do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that was
something more.

Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said,
"Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet
ya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.

Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this is my
first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want to
know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But
anyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. I
needed a replacement."

Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world,
and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?"

Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you're a better guesser than that. You've
already figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leave
here. And I'm ready. It's my time to die."

Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about
this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would
be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another
hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself.
Jack could understand Samuel's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Jack said
was, "What do you want me to do?"

Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around
the world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back here
and take over. Two - give me the fourth request.

"I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die of
old age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now.
I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I'll be
able to die. And I need you to kill me.

"I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. And
I've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so
that's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.

Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. "I'd
say an axe, but that's somewhat undignified - putting my head on the ground
or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of
going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work,
even on me.

"You willing to do that for me, Jack?" Nate turned back to look at Jack.

"Yeah, Nate," replied Jack solemnly, "I think I can handle that."

Nate nodded. "Good!" He turned back toward the dune and shouted, "Sammy!
Jack's about ready to leave!" Then quietly, "Thanks, Jack."
Jack didn't have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make it
back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then
headed into the desert with Sammy following.
Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate through
e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting
every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a
natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up
acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed to
keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were
nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted a
few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle
them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few
wild rumors and storied followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit the
newspapers or the public in general.

When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try some
undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finally
drew the line at visiting Antarctica. He'd come to realize that Jack was
stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that
Jack probably didn't want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humans
could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances.

So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didn't have a foot) and told
Jack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties from
his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to
Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by
getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he'd learned as
much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was
definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to
head back and see Nate.

When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where he
and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up
Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert.

When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those
years ago when he'd met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didn't really feel like
walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he'd forgotten to
figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They'd either
have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark.

As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his
resolve, he decided that he'd go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was
only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks
afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they
drove, and then they could get it over tonight.

Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of
sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out
into the desert.

Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been
nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds,
revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to
the dunes, Jack didn't really think about it, he just downshifted and headed
up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that he'd
decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing
traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to
keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the
other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and
laughing at Jack's driving.

As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack saw
that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate,
waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but he'd gone a little too far. The RV
started slipping down the other side.

Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didn't have enough traction. He pumped
the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and
faster.

Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were
heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course for
it. If Jack didn't do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end
humanity.

Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn't
working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second,
Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the
lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit
the lever - he wouldn't have time to stop, but he should be able to steer
away.

Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a
little bit - every little bit would help. He'd have to time his turn just
right.

The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the
sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check that
they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed something
else that he hadn't seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn't wrapped
around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the
stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of
the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV
was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the
sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around the
lever to the other side.

Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the
lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy
realized the same thing.

Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone.
Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, "BETTER NATE THAN LEVER!", he ran over the snake.

THE END.

Anyway...so there was this church, in this cozy little town. One day, in an unfortunate accident, one of the beautiful painted glass windows gets broken. The head of the church, Friar Samuel, is distraught upon hearing the news, and naturally wants it repaired as soon as possible. However, Samuel has taken a vow of poverty, and thus has no money with which to do so. So he decides to set up a little stall for donations outside the building. The day passes, and the collection box is not a cent closer to his goal. Then he has an idea. As a passionate gardener, his yard his filled with colourful flowers, so he decides to take some and offer them for those who donate as an incentive and way of thanks. Sure enough, the next day people are lining up to the stall, and Samuel is thrilled.

Less thrilled is William, who owns the local flower shop just across the street from Samuel's church. At this rate he will be put out of business in no time, by this unlicensed "fund raiser" no less. And then how will he feed himself and his family? So he goes over to Samuel's stall and tries to explain this to him and politely ask him to stop. But Samuel cannot hear him, or will not listen, as he just smiles and nods while continuing to pass on flowers to the generous town folk. William sighs, and returns to this shop. He did not want it go this way, but he was left with no choice. He gets on the phone and calls one of his buddies, Hugh. He explains the situation, and Hugh agrees to "take care of it." William knew he did not need to provide details. Hugh was the kind of person who has the same answer to ANY problem.

The next day, Samuel goes to set up his stall again, but finds that all his equipment has been smashed and broken to bits. He connects the dots quickly and rushes to his house, where to his horror he finds his entire garden has been ravaged. All his flowers were gone or trampled into the ground. All his hard work destroyed, he would never be able to restore the window to its former glory. He counts up and estimates that he has enough money for a regular window, so he sighs and just has to settle for less.

The moral of the story?

Hugh, and only Hugh, can stop florist friars.

[Fredthefighter]

It was long, but I'll be damned if it wasn't funny.

[late for dinner]

I spent forever reading that...the storytelling was done very well and after thinking about it for a good 10 minutes, was all needed to tell the joke. You made my day and I cant wait to share the joke with as many people that will stay to the end.

[Surfing HalfOrc]

Well, after that classy, if somewhat lengthy joke, here's my not so classy and rather short joke:

Two men were sitting on the front porch of an old Southern General Store, playing checkers and enjoying the evening breeze. Also on the porch was an old hound dog, scratching himself, and licking at his testacles.
The one man says to his friend, "I wish I could do that..."
To which his friend replied, "That dog will bite you."

[Sequinox]

Thanks. I read that on a joke thread in... February 2007? (Back before I started posting) and only half of it because only half would fit.

Now, I guess it was good, but I didn't really find it too funny. Still, glad my curiousity was satisfied.

All in all, what a punny joke!

(Oh, and where did that come from?)

[Flame of Anor]

Awesome, GE, awesome. :smallbiggrin:

[Haruki-kun]

Don't share with your kids:

The Mr. Jeeves Joke AKA, The one about Mr. Jeeves.

A rich couple goes out to a party one night, and leaves their butler, Mr. Jeeves, in charge. After a long time, the woman gets bored of the party and decides to leave. The man, however, cannot leave because many of his most important clients are at the party.

When the woman gets home, angry because her husband couldn't come with her, she spots Mr. Jeeves on the couch.

"Jeeves," she says, "follow me to the master bedroom."

Jeeves does as instructed. Upon reaching the master bedroom, the woman turns to him and says. "Jeeves, take of my dress."

He hesitated, then silently obeyed.

"Jeeves, take off my stockings and garter."

Very nervously and slowly, he did so.

"Jeeves, take off my bra and panties."

The tension was building. But Jeeves saw no choice. He did as instructed.

Finally, the woman said, "Jeeves, if I ever catch you wearing my clothes again, you're fired!"

[ThePhantom]

Why are fire engines red?
2+2=4
4*3=12
12 inches makes a ruler
A famous ruler is Queen Elizabeth
The Queen Elizabeth sails the seas
The sea has fishes
The fishes have fins
The Fins fought the Russians.
The Russians are red, so fire engines are red because they are always rushin'(Russian)

[Flame of Anor]

What do you with an elephant that's got four balls?
Why, you send him to first base, of course.

[xanaphia]

This is the psychiatrist hotline.

If you have obsessive compulsive disorder, press 1 repeatedly.

If you have paranoia, we know who you are and what you want. Just stay on the phone until we can trace this call.

If you have multiple personality disorder, press 3, 4, 5, or 6.


There's more, I just can't remember it.

[Icewalker]

I have a long one which I feel I should post.

So there's a box of cheerios. Now, at the top of the box there is a really nice party. Lots of nice cheerios, hanging around, dancing, eating, just partying in general. The party is very high class. At the bottom of the box there is another party, but it's pretty slummy, the music is bad, the food is disgusting, just all around a really low quality party. So, one of the cheerios down near the bottom decides to head up the better party up top. So he goes up, and starts milling around with all the cheerios up at the higher class party.

Before long he sees this one really hot cheerio hanging out over in a corner, so he goes and talks to her. He offers to dance, and she agrees, so they head to the dance floor. But she stops him saying "Wait, we have to wait in line to dance. There are a lot of people waiting, the line is over there." So they go and wait in the dance line. And it's a huge line, and takes forever...but eventually they get to the floor, and a fast song comes on, and they dance wildly and it's really fun and exciting, and they leave the dance floor after dancing till they can't anymore, exhilarated and laughing. But now he's getting pretty hungry, so he suggests they go head over to the snack table. And as they head over, she points out that there is another line to wait in, and they go to wait in the line. And it takes a really long time again, the line is moving really slowly, and the cheerio begins to have second thoughts about waiting. Eventually though they get through and get some of the food, and it's fantastic. After sitting around and talking for a while they head back to the dance floor, but the line is longer than ever. And they are waiting so long that he's even considering going back down to the crappy party. But then they make it back out to the dance floor and it's a slow song, and they dance together for a long time. After a while they get off the dance floor again, and he's starting to get really thirsty, so he suggests "Is there anything to drink? Punch, or something? Let's go get in the punch line." And she gives him a quizzical look and says "Punch line? There is no punchline."

[Haruki-kun]

This is the psychiatrist hotline.

If you have obsessive compulsive disorder, press 1 repeatedly.

If you have paranoia, we know who you are and what you want. Just stay on the phone until we can trace this call.

If you have multiple personality disorder, press 3, 4, 5, or 6.


There's more, I just can't remember it.

If you suffer from short-term memory loss, press 9. If you suffer from short-term memory loss, press 9. If you suffer from short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you are undecisive, leave a message after the tone. Or before the tone. Or during the Tone. Well, just wait for the tone.

If you are Schizophrenic, the voices will tell you what button to press.

If you suffer from Hallucinations, press 3 in that big coloured phone that you (and only you) can see right next to you.

I remember this joke, too. :smallbiggrin: There's even more.

[UncleWolf]

If you suffer from short-term memory loss, press 9. If you suffer from short-term memory loss, press 9. If you suffer from short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you are undecisive, leave a message after the tone. Or before the tone. Or during the Tone. Well, just wait for the tone.

If you are Schizophrenic, the voices will tell you what button to press.

If you suffer from Hallucinations, press 3 in that big coloured phone that you (and only you) can see right next to you.

I remember this joke, too. :smallbiggrin: There's even more.

If you are catatonic and you are driving, just drive on.

[Innis Cabal]

If you suffer from short-term memory loss, press 9. If you suffer from short-term memory loss, press 9. If you suffer from short-term memory loss, press 9.

If you are undecisive, leave a message after the tone. Or before the tone. Or during the Tone. Well, just wait for the tone.

If you are Schizophrenic, the voices will tell you what button to press.

If you suffer from Hallucinations, press 3 in that big coloured phone that you (and only you) can see right next to you.

I remember this joke, too. :smallbiggrin: There's even more.

If you are co-dependent, find someone else to push 1.

[xyzzy]

A pair of blonde jokes.

Several blondes walk into a bar, chanting "Thirty-one days! Thirty-one days!" The bartender turns to them and asks what the significance of thirty-one days is.

"Well," replies one of them, "we got a puzzle that said 3-4 years, and we finished it in just thirty-one days!"

All the blondes in the world are meeting for the "Blondes Are Smart Convention", when a challenger approaches the convention. He tells them he thinks they can't get the smartest blonde to answer some questions for him.

They pick who they believe to be the smartest one, and they watch the battle of wits with bated breath. The man asks her a question. "What... is two plus two?"

She thinks for a moment, then answers: "That's obviously six!"

"You're not right; too bad," he replies.

"GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE, GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE!" the crowd chants.

And so he does. "Okay, maybe you were just going to fast, or maybe this just isn't your strongest thing. But I'll give you another shot to tell me what two plus two is."

"Uh... three!" she responds after a minute of thinking.

"Wrong again. I guess you're not too smart," replies the man.

Yet again the crowd chants, "GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE, GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE!"

"Alright, but this is your last one. Now, I'd like all of you in the audience to be trying to figure this out as well, to see how you compare. Okay, what is two plus two?"

She thinks for a whole hour then finely says, "That's four."

The crowd chants yet again, "GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE, GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE!"

[xanaphia]

Very nice. I hadn't heard that last blonde joke.

[The Evil Thing]

These are a little long-winded.

Rob was talking to his friend Dave about all the people they knew. Dave insisted that he was friends with everyone in the world. Of course Rob was sceptical about this:
"You couldn't possibly know everyone!"
"No, it's true. Come on, I'll prove it."
So Rob and Dave went down London.
"See that big skyscraper over there? I'll get us a meeting with the billionaire who owns it."
So off they went, and true to his word, Dave managed to meet with the owner with Rob, without any prior notice. Rob was certainly amazed but still unsure.
"That is impressive, but you could have known him by some fluke."
"Still don't believe me? All right, let's go and meet the prime minister."
So off they went to Downing Street. Dave greeted the policemen - who return his hellos - and knocked on the door to Number 10. The prime minister opened the door and invited Rob and Dave in.
After having tea and chatting for an hour, they left. Rob, however, still wasn't convinced.
"I'll admit it's incredible that you know the prime minister but I can't believe you everyone."
"Fine then, what will it take to convince you?"
"Let's go meet the Pope."
So off they went to the Vatican. Dave told Rob that it was almost time for the Pope to give his blessings, so he should wait in the courtyard overlooked by the Pope's balcony. Dave would head inside and come out with the Pope at the same time.
So Rob went and stood in the courtyard along with all the people waiting when both the Pope and Dave appeared on the balcony. Rob was shocked to see his friend Dave right next to the Pope and was watching intently when a Swiss Guard tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey, I'm a little curious. Who's that guy standing next to Dave?"

A man was lost in the desert and was staggering along, desperate for a drink, when he met a man on a camel.
"Excuse me, could I please have some water?"
The man on the camel looked apologetic.
"I apologise, but I have no water. However, I do have plenty of ties. Would you like to buy one?"
"Ties? No thank you, I need water, not a tie."
"Well, I'm afraid I can't help you."
So the man staggered on, while the tie seller went his own way.
The hours marched on mercilessly and the man was struggling to stay on two feet, when he saw another man on a camel.
"Please, I need water. Give me water."
"I am sorry, but I have no water to give you. However, I do have plenty of ties. Some of the designs are quite wonderful, would you like to buy one?"
"No, I don't want a tie, I want a drink."
So the man carried on, and soon he was reduced to crawling from exhaustion and dehydration. He was beginning to lose hope when he saw a third man on a camel.
"Water! Please, I must have water!"
"Sorry, but I don't have any water. However, I do have a number of ties. Many of them are genuine silk and all are excellent quality. You really shouldn't miss out on these!"
"No! I don't want a tie!" the man said in despair, and dragged himself off.
As time wore on he saw something in the distance. By now he was pulling himself along the ground with his hands, practically all of his strength had left him, but as he got closer he saw it was a restaurant! 'I'm saved!' he thought and he somehow found the strength to go on.
When he reached the door he threw himself at the feet of one of the waiters.
"Water! Please, I beg of you! Water! In fact, anything. Please just let me drink something!"
"I'm sorry sir, but we can't let you in without a tie."

[Rutskarn]

What's worse than a worm in your apple?

The Holocaust.

How many Medics does it take to change a lightbulb?

One, but they have to change it by shooting at it.

How many Engineers does it take to change a lightbulb?

None. He's too busy installing A TELEPORTER OVER THERE.

How many Heavies does it take to change a lightbulb?

One.

How many Spies does it take to change a lightbulb?

What, you thought that was really a Heavy changing that last bulb?