Jokes of the day
- Thread starter thirdcup
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This is a story about someone who used to be a member here. She did erotic massage, and specialized in prostate stimulation. Many of her clients were VERY old men. It's called Excalibur.
You know what would be really funny?
Imagine if one of e**a*e**o****e**‘s terminally ill customers snuffed it in the middle of a prostate exam, and his last gasp created sort of a vacuum in his colon, and her finger got stuck in the dead old guy’s ass. She’d try to pull it out, but that would just suck the finger in farther, like one of those Chinese finger traps that Data’s fingers got stuck in, on an episode of TNG.
So, the first thing she’d have to do is try to get dressed, and that’s pretty hard for someone to do, when they have their finger stuck in a dead old guy’s ass. People generally don’t spend much time practicing getting dressed, with their finger stuck in a dead old guy’s ass. He’s not going to be any help, either.
She’d pretty much have to get a fitted sheet, and cut out holes for her head, and for the arm that doesn’t have one of its fingers stuck in a dead old guy’s ass. The other side would have the elastic part, and she’d have to use duct tape along the edge to hold the sides together, so she’d be dressed sort of like someone’s senile granny, on laundry day. Guys would probably be able to see a bit of side boob, if they hung higher.
Getting him dressed would be a big problem, too. It’s hard enough for a living terminally ill old guy to put his own underpants on, but not nearly as difficult as it would be to put them on for him, if he was dead, and you had your finger stuck in his ass.
She’d probably have to cut a slit in the back of his pants, to get them to at least cover the bottom of his ass cheeks, and hope that his belt could make it look like her finger wasn’t stuck in his ass, to a casual observer some distance away.
Getting both herself and the old dead guy, (in whose ass her finger was stuck), from her studio to the hospital would be a problem, as well. She couldn’t stick him head first in a bundle buggy, with one of his shins on each of her shoulders for balance, because one of the wheels would fall off as soon as she went down a step.
She’d have to get some kid’s wagon, and put a hockey stick underneath the old dead guy, so the blade would prop his head up instead of having it bounce up and down on the sidewalk, while she was dragging the wagon to the hospital.
Chances are, he would have still been wearing his socks when he gave up the ghost. It would probably be a good idea for her to put grocery bags around his feet, tied in a knot at the ankles. Otherwise, all sorts of shit from the sidewalk might get stuck to the dead old guy’s socks, like cigarette butts, gum, or loogies. She could put his shoes underneath him on the wagon, because it would be really difficult to tie the laces, with one hand out of commission.
She’d have to drastically alter her posture while dragging the wagon to the hospital, with one shoulder high and one shoulder low, kind of like Igor in a black and white Frankenstein movie, and she’d have to walk like those Russian dancers in Fiddler on the Roof, that always have one foot under one of their butt cheeks.
Once she got to the hospital, she’d probably have to sit in Emerg for like, eight hours, while they dealt with more life-threatening cases like the roof repairman who shot himself in the hand with a nail gun, and the kid who stuck a piece of crayon too far up his nose.
Eight fucking hours she’d have to sit there, with her finger stuck in a dead old guy’s ass, like Excalibur.
You know what would be really funny?
Imagine if one of e**a*e**o****e**‘s terminally ill customers snuffed it in the middle of a prostate exam, and his last gasp created sort of a vacuum in his colon, and her finger got stuck in the dead old guy’s ass. She’d try to pull it out, but that would just suck the finger in farther, like one of those Chinese finger traps that Data’s fingers got stuck in, on an episode of TNG.
So, the first thing she’d have to do is try to get dressed, and that’s pretty hard for someone to do, when they have their finger stuck in a dead old guy’s ass. People generally don’t spend much time practicing getting dressed, with their finger stuck in a dead old guy’s ass. He’s not going to be any help, either.
She’d pretty much have to get a fitted sheet, and cut out holes for her head, and for the arm that doesn’t have one of its fingers stuck in a dead old guy’s ass. The other side would have the elastic part, and she’d have to use duct tape along the edge to hold the sides together, so she’d be dressed sort of like someone’s senile granny, on laundry day. Guys would probably be able to see a bit of side boob, if they hung higher.
Getting him dressed would be a big problem, too. It’s hard enough for a living terminally ill old guy to put his own underpants on, but not nearly as difficult as it would be to put them on for him, if he was dead, and you had your finger stuck in his ass.
She’d probably have to cut a slit in the back of his pants, to get them to at least cover the bottom of his ass cheeks, and hope that his belt could make it look like her finger wasn’t stuck in his ass, to a casual observer some distance away.
Getting both herself and the old dead guy, (in whose ass her finger was stuck), from her studio to the hospital would be a problem, as well. She couldn’t stick him head first in a bundle buggy, with one of his shins on each of her shoulders for balance, because one of the wheels would fall off as soon as she went down a step.
She’d have to get some kid’s wagon, and put a hockey stick underneath the old dead guy, so the blade would prop his head up instead of having it bounce up and down on the sidewalk, while she was dragging the wagon to the hospital.
Chances are, he would have still been wearing his socks when he gave up the ghost. It would probably be a good idea for her to put grocery bags around his feet, tied in a knot at the ankles. Otherwise, all sorts of shit from the sidewalk might get stuck to the dead old guy’s socks, like cigarette butts, gum, or loogies. She could put his shoes underneath him on the wagon, because it would be really difficult to tie the laces, with one hand out of commission.
She’d have to drastically alter her posture while dragging the wagon to the hospital, with one shoulder high and one shoulder low, kind of like Igor in a black and white Frankenstein movie, and she’d have to walk like those Russian dancers in Fiddler on the Roof, that always have one foot under one of their butt cheeks.
Once she got to the hospital, she’d probably have to sit in Emerg for like, eight hours, while they dealt with more life-threatening cases like the roof repairman who shot himself in the hand with a nail gun, and the kid who stuck a piece of crayon too far up his nose.
Eight fucking hours she’d have to sit there, with her finger stuck in a dead old guy’s ass, like Excalibur.
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Your sense of humor is somewhat different. Not that I am any judge of normal, but I prefer Jenesis...
The world's smallest record player plays a very high fidelity recording of "Short People" by Randy Newman
...
That would be one of the funnier jokes, at a spelling bee.The world's smallest record player plays a very high fidelity recording of "Short People" by Randy Newman
Tell that one in a more public setting with intelligent adults and I’m sure it’ll get the respect it deserves...
there was a Chinese restaurant across the street from Greek restaurant. Every Friday the Greek guy would yell across the street to The Chinese guy "hey, what day is it" The Chinese guy would yell back "it's Fliday"
The Greek guy would have a good laugh. This happened every week until the Chinese guy got fed up and went to a speech pathologist and got him to teach him how to pronounce Friday.
The Greek guy notices the Chinese guy is back his restaurant and guess what day it was.
He goes outside and yells "Hey, what day is it"
The Chinese guy comes out and with renewed confidence yells back, It's FRIDAY, you big Gleek Plick
The Greek guy would have a good laugh. This happened every week until the Chinese guy got fed up and went to a speech pathologist and got him to teach him how to pronounce Friday.
The Greek guy notices the Chinese guy is back his restaurant and guess what day it was.
He goes outside and yells "Hey, what day is it"
The Chinese guy comes out and with renewed confidence yells back, It's FRIDAY, you big Gleek Plick
I was on highway 427, looking for directions to the Woodbine Centre mall. I asked an old guy, and he sent me in the wrong direction. I ended up on a dirt road, that ended at a weathered shack. A guy on the front porch was whittling a stick with his pocket knife. "Kelp you?", he said. I replied "I was looking for the Woodbine Centre, but I got lost". He said "You done found it. How many chords d'ya need?".
Can you spell "cunnyleen" .. err .. "konny.." .. err .. "can.."
Sometimes the ladies *want* you to suck
