Darkest Jokes

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Funniest Darkest Jokes

I'm so much in debt, I can't afford to pay my electric bill... These are the darkest days of my life...

I’m in so much debt, I can’t afford to pay my electric bill. These are the darkest days of my life.

Funny Darkest Jokes

In college I was so broke I couldn’t afford the electricity bill Those were the darkest days of my life.

In the past, I was so broke I couldn’t afford the electricity bill... Those were the darkest days of my life

I remember how embarrassed I was when I couldn't pay my electric bill It was the darkest day of my life

It is during our darkest moments... That we need to replace the batteries of the flashlight

The darkest joke I have ever read My wife just accused me of hating her side of the family and relatives. I replied, "No, I don't hate your relatives. In fact, I like your mother-in-law a lot better than I like mine."

Edit - It was written in vantablack.

The Darkest Joke What's worse than a baby in a dumpster?

... A baby in two dumpsters.

Travelling through the deepest darkest jungles of Africa with my man servant Jeeves .... We broke through the dense undergrowth into a small clearing. There were eggs everywhere. I turned to Jeeves and said "This is obviously the work of poachers"

I once got into so much debt I couldn't even afford my electricity bills, they were the darkest times of my life.

What's the darkest dark humor joke you got? I start!..

What's the difference between a Taliban outpost and a Pakistani elementary school?

I don't know, I just fly the drone.

College days In college I was so broke I couldn’t pay the electricity bill.
These were the darkest days of my life.

One of the darkest jokes I know. # How can you tell if your oven's done preheating?

Mr. Goldstein's stopped screaming.

[Edit: a typo]

Where does a Butt keep its darkest secrets? Its diarrhea

What's the darkest joke you know? I've always been a fan or dark humor, so, what's the darkest joke you know. no boundaries, no getting offended. please don't downvote anyone because you find it offensive, that's life, get over it.

Some people say that 9/11 was America's darkest hour but they got it backwards, 11/9

You know what the greatest thing about January 20th 2017 12:01 AM? That is when its going to be the darkest before the Donald

Last year, I couldn't affort electricity bills for two months It was the darkest time of my life.

Oh come-on, You cant call Hitler a Racist, All of the world's darkest people worked for him.

Why were Huma Abedin's darkest fears about seduction by Bill Clinton unfounded? Because ultimately it was Hillary who ended up showing her the Huma door.

Deep at the bottom of the darkest trench off the ocean lives the most feared sea monster to ever exist. The Kraken, Urbutt.

Dark times I remember how embarrassed I was when I couldn’t pay my electric bill.  
It was the darkest day of my life.

I asked a scientist what the darkest material on earth was... He said, Sarah Silverman's monologue.

You know what’s bothering me lately? Black is actually the darkest shade of white.

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Long Darkest Jokes

A professor is sent to darkest Africa to live with a primitive tribe...

..He spends years with them, teaching them reading, writing, maths and science.

One day the wife of the tribe's chief gives birth to a white child. The tribe is shocked, and the chief pulls the professor aside and says, "Look here! You're the only white man we've ever seen and this woman gives birth to a white child. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened!"

The professor replied, "No, Chief. You're mistaken. What you have here is a natural occurrence, what we in the civilized world call an albino! Look at that field over there. All of the sheep are white except for one black one. Nature does this on occasion."

The chief was silent for a moment, then said, "Tell you what. You don't say anything more about that sheep and I won't say anything more about that white child."

Baby Confusion

An English, a Pakistani, and an Irish couple all simultaneously arrive at a hospital, all of the wives in the couple going into labour at approximately the same time. All of the babies were delivered healthily after fairly routine births but unfortunately, after placing the babies in their cradles, the nurse realized that she had forgotten to place tags on the different sheets. She informed the doctor of her mistake and that she was unable to recall which baby was which. The doctor was something of a scientist and believed that there was a parenting instinct which would allow them to identify the babies. He said they would let the couples go in, look at the babies, and take whichever one they identified as their own through this inherent, natural drive.

The English couple went first, returning almost immediately carrying the darkest skinned child. The nurse, recognizing this, approached the English couple to inform them;.

"Sir, no offence, but I believe that this child belongs to that Pakistani couple over there"

"Yeah, I know mate, but I heard that the other couple over there is Irish and I'm not taking any chances"

Black sheep

A professor is sent to darkest Africa to live with a primitive tribe. He spends years with them, teaching them reading, writing, math and science.

One day the wife of the tribe's chief gives birth to a white child. The tribe is shocked, and the chief pulls the professor aside and says, "Look here! You're the only white man we've ever seen and this woman gives birth to a white child. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened!"

The professor replied, "No, Chief. You're mistaken. What you have here is a natural occurrence, what we in the civilized world call an albino! Look at that field over there. All of the sheep are white except for one black one. Nature does this on occasion."

The chief was silent for a moment, then said, "Tell you what. You don't say anything more about that sheep and I won't say anything more about that white child.

The Darkest Joke I Know

A boy is blind from the day he is born, Never knowing his mothers face never knowing colors and never knowing anything except what he can feel, smell, hear, or touch.

One night the boy is in his bedroom when his mother comes in and sits down on the bed beside him, she says "Sweetie I have some very good news for you" Tonight is a very special night, for tomorrow is a very special day,

The mother explains to her son that if he gets down on his knees and prays to God as hard as he can and truly believes in what he is praying then in the morning when he wakes up for the first time he will finally be able to see!

The boy is immediately excited and instantly gets on his knees and prays to God as hard as he can, he prays and prays for hours as long as he can until his body can no longer take it and he falls fast asleep, the next morning the boy awakes and to his pure horror he lets out a terrifying scream, his mother quickly runs into the room to her son and says "Baby what's the matter!"

The boy cries "Mommy it didn't work!" I prayed as long and as hard as I possibly could but I still can't see, the boys mother approaches her son puts her arm around his shoulder and says

April Fools Dumbass!

The Albino and the Black Sheep

A professor is sent to darkest Africa to live with a primitive tribe. He spends years with them, teaching them reading, writing, math and science. One day the wife of the tribe's chief gives birth to a white child.

The tribe is shocked, and the chief pulls the professor aside and says, "Look here! You're the only white man we've ever seen and this woman gives birth to a white child. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened!"

The professor replied, "No, Chief. You're mistaken. What you have here is a natural occurrence, what we in the civilized world call an albino! Look at that field over there. All of the sheep are white except for one black one. Nature does this on occasion." The chief was silent for a moment, then said, "Ok, ok, you no tell anyone, I no tell anyone."

CIA Agent arrested in Russia

A CIA agent is arrested in Moscow and charged with spying. The agent is fluent in Russian and has had years of specialised training on how to blend in with the Russian people. he's the perfect sleeper agent.
Down in the darkest dungeons beneath Kremlin the Russian Secret Service (FSS) begin their interrogation.
"We know you are American, spy Pig. Admit it!"
"How can you say that? I speak Russian like a Muscovite, I am Russian."
"You are lying, Spy Pig. We know you are a Yankee dog. Admit it"
The Agent pulls a copy of Pushkin from his jacket pocket and begins to read aloud. Within minutes the guards are weeping with joy at how beautifully the poetry is read.
"You see, only a Russian can read Pushkin like this", said the agent.
"You lie, Spy Pig, I know you are an American, confess".
The agent calls one the of the guards to play Kalinka on his balalaika. The agent leaps on to the table a dances a Russian folk dance whilst singing. The guards clap and cheer having seldom seen such a perfect performance.
"You see no one can sing the most loved song in Russia like this if you are not a Russian."
"You lie Yankee snail pig. I know you are an American".
The agent calls of 6 bottles of Siberian vodka and over the next hour drinks them all finally smashing his glass on the table.
"No one drinks vodka like a Russian and I am a Russian"
Impressed the FSS agent claps his hands slowly.
"You are good Yankee Pig poo, very good, but I know you are not Russian and now you die".
The CIA agent slumps in his seat knowing he is defeated.
"Tell me one thing, how did you know? I am highly trained can speak, read Pushkin, sing and dance and drink like a Russian. My cover was perfect. How did you know I am an American?"

"It was easy Yankee man, we have no Blacks in Russia"

Marcus and Yacov, two Hasidic Jews, went to Pincus the tailor for new suits.

"Pincus," Yacov said, "the last time we came to you for new suits, we told you we wanted black suits. The suits you made were not black. They were sort of dark grey maybe, but not black, We need new suits, and this time we want black suits, from the darkest cloth there is."

Pincus reached behind for a bolt of cloth and he said, "See this cloth? It is from this fabric that I make the habits for nuns. In all the world," Pincus said, fingering the bolt of fabric, "there is no blacker cloth than the cloth I make nun's habits from, and it is from this cloth that I'll make your new suits!"

A few weeks later the two Hasidic Jews were walking down the street in their new suits when they passed two nuns. Impulsively, on a whim, one of the men went up to one of the nuns. He grabbed her sleeve and held it up against his own.

Then, in an angry voice, he muttered something to his friend and they both walked on.

"What did that man want?" one nun asked the other.

"I don't know," she replied. "he looked at my garment, said something in Latin, and left."

"In Latin?" asked the first nun. "What did he say?"

He said, "Marcus, Pincus fuctus."

Noise in the monastary

There was a little boy who lived in a far away land. Close to the boy's home, there was a tall mountain, always covered in snow at the top. Also at the top of the mountain, there was an ancient monastery where ancient monks lived.

Sometimes, the little boy, as he was riding his tricycle around his yard, would look up at the monastery on the tall mountain and wonder what it was like up there.

One day, when the wind was blowing down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold and the little boy could hear a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the little boy made a peanut butter sandwich, hopped on his tricycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him hours and hours, but he finally made it to the top. He bravely pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Hello, Mr. Monk, sir. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the little boy got back on his tricycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy was a bit bigger and stronger now and now rode around town on his bicycle.

As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the bigger boy made a ham and cheese sandwich, hopped on his bicycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him hours, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Hey, Mr. Monk. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the big boy got back on his bicycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy had grown into a strapping youth now and rode around town on his motorcycle.

As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the strapping youth grabbed a slice of pizza, hopped on his motorcycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him 30 minutes, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Yo, Mr. Monk, dude. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the strapping youth got back on his motorcycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy was now a young man and often rode around in his new convertible sportscar.

As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the young man bought a burger at a fast food place, got in his convertible sportscar, and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him 20 minutes, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Mr. Monk. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the young man got back in his convertible sportscar and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

That night, he thought and thought about the very strange noise and how he just had to know what caused it. So, he resolved to do something about it the next day.

The next day, he got in his convertible sportscar and raced up the mountain, slammed on his brakes, and skidded to a stop right in front of the massive door to the monastery.

He honked the horn of his convertible sportscar until the head monk finally opened the door.

"Alright, Mr. Monk, I want to know what is making that very strange noise coming from you monastery!"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

"Well, then can I become a monk?"

"Why certainly! It is quite easy. You must travel the earth and count the number of blades of grass in every field and the number of grains of sand on every beach. When you return with your answer, then you shall be a monk."

So the young man left the monastery and travelled the earth. For years and years he counted the blades of grass and grains of sand, until one day he had finally finished. He made his way slowly back to the monastery and found the head monk.

"Oh, Mr. Monk, I have travelled the earth these past years, counting the blades of grass and grains of sand. I finally know that there are 123,123,123,123,123 blades of grass in the fields and 123,123,123,123,123 grains of sand on the beaches and I would like to become a monk."

So the man became a monk. At last, he would now be able to find out the source of that very strange noise coming from the monastery.

"Mr. Monk, what is the noise coming from the monastery?" asked the new monk.

The head monk replied, "The source is too complicated to describe in words. I am afraid that you must see it for yourself to truly understand it. This key will show you the answer you seek."

"Take this key to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery. There you will find a long corridor. At the end of the corridor is a door and through the door is the thing that makes the noise."

Well, of course the new monk went immediately to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery and there he did indeed find the long corridor. He walked down the corridor until he could see the door at the end.

Unfortunately, there were three magical fires that never go out blocking the man from the door. He decided to jump the fires to reach the door. The man made sure the key was secure in his hand, took a running charge at the first fire and leapt!

Over the first fire he flew, but he dropped the key. The man leapt back over the fire, ran all the way back down the long corridor, out of the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery and back to the head monk.

"Oh, Mr. Monk! I am so sorry! I went to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery, down the long corridor to the door, but there were magical fires and I dropped the key in the first one as I leapt over it."

"Do not worry, for there is another key and you must overcome tests on your way to enlightenment. The second key, however is far, far away in Canada."

The new monk left the monastery and travelled to Canada. It took many years because he had no money, being a monk and all.

Eventually, he arrived in Canada and managed to track down the key to the door. The monk then had to make the return journey equally as painstakingly, but finally he arrived back at the monastery. Down into the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery he went, until he found the long corridor.

The three magical fires were in front of him as he took a running start.

Over the first fire went the monk, key still in hand!

Over the second fire went the monk, key still- RATS!
He had dropped the key in the second fire. The monk leapt back over the second fire, back over the first fire, back down the long corridor he walked and out of the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery. The monk went back to the head monk.

"Oh, Mr. Monk! I am so sorry! I went to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery, down the long corridor to the door, but there were magical fires and I dropped the key in the second one as I leapt over it."

"Do not worry, for there is one more key and we must all overcome tests on our way to enlightenment. The third key, however is far, far away in Australia."

The monk left the monastery and travelled to Australia. It took many years because he had no money being a monk and all.

Eventually he arrived in Australia and managed to track down the key to the door. The monk then had to make the return journey equally as painstakingly, but finally he arrived back at the monastery. By this time, he was quite an old monk.

Down into the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery he went, until he found the long corridor. The three magical fires were in front of him as he took a running start.

Over the first fire went the quite old monk, key still in hand!

Over the second fire went the quite old monk, key still in hand!

Over the THIRD fire went the quite old monk, key still in hand!

He had made it! He'd made the jumps and here he was standing outside the door with the answer to his question. Finally, finally, after so many, many, many years of wanting to know what was making the strange noise, he would know. The answer lay through the door in front of him and he could at last be at peace with himself.

Slowly, the quite old monk slid the key into the lock. Turning the key a slight 'click' was to be heard as the lock moved back allowing the quite old monk to open the door. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

And do you know what it was?

I'm sorry, I can't tell you. You aren't a monk.

A Frenchman, a Spaniard, and an Italian are captured in battle...

All three are locked in the darkest cell of the enemy encampment. Meaning to find the location of the captives' comrades, the captors tie up the Spaniard and drag him to their interrogation chamber, and demand that he give up his fellow soldiers.

The Spaniard, betraying a longstanding military tradition of bravery and courage, gives up his friends almost immediately. Shamed, he is returned to his cell and the Frenchman is tied up and brought in.

The Frenchman, shirking an untrue and unfair modern stereotype, endures a full hour of ruthless torture, completely bound and powerless to resist. History would not condemn the fact that he relented after lasting so long. The captors release him, binding the Italian and taking him off on the way out.

With this Italian, captors can't find a method of physical brutality strong enough for him to utter even a peep. After four grueling hours, even the captors are tired, and return the Italian's broken but barely living body to his cell, loosening his restraints and tossing him naked onto the floor.

Amazed, the other two captives insist, "No one would have faulted you for talking after enduring so much punishment!" The Italian, beaten and bruised, moans, "I would have, but I couldn't move my hands!"

TV shopping.

Mary Sue, a young woman with notable blonde hair, decided that she needed a new TV for her bedroom.

So she goes down to the local applience store and looks around before poking the nearest salesman in the shoulder. "Excuse me sir, I'd like to ask you a few questions about that TV."

The man looked the woman up and down and smiled before shaking his head. "I'm sorry miss, but I don't sell TV's to dumb blondes." He snorted before walking off.

Annoyed but not beaten, Mary went home and died her hair the darkest shade of black she could, and returned the next day and walked straight up to the manager again. "Excuse me sir, I'd like to ask you a few questions about that TV on the shelf."

The manager gave the woman another look and shook his head again. "I'm sorry miss, but I don't sell TVs to dumb blondes." He replied again and went back to the break room.

Mary, now furious that she had been stumped twice by the man, went home and shaved her head bare till she didn't even have a stubble of hair.

The next day, bald headed Mary strode into the store and crossed her arms infront of the manager. "SIR, I'd like to buy that TV over there." She told him in a firm voice.

The man, smiling at the shine of her head, could only shake his head from side to side. "I'm sorry miss, but I don't sell TVs to dumb blondes."

Mary was beyond herself now, and would have tore out her hair if she had any left. "HOW?! How do you know I'm a blonde?" She begged the man.

"Well for starters, Miss, that is Microwave."

The Cheerio Joke

On a planet called Cheeriolia, the population is divided into three societal classes: Cheerios are the lower class, Applejacks are in the middle, and Fruit Loops are the wealthy elite. One cannot intermarry between classes, unfortunately, and discrimination is rampant between them. An authoritarian government keeps very close tabs on individual classes and poverty lines criss-cross through big cities. Cheerios are doomed to a certain limit of wealth, Applejacks cannot earn more than Fruit Loops, and Fruit Loops must pay even heavier taxes. Life is difficult, and each class has its own unique complaints with the way they are forced to live.

A Cheerio named Joe worked at a local Wal-Mart as a cashier, a position he had held for years because his boss is a penny-pinching Applejack. One day, he was bagging groceries for a fellow Cheerio when a Fruit Loop walked through the door, frantically darting her eyes around, panting. She ran down a couple isles, found what she was looking for, and hurried to the check-out area. The Fruit Loop had jumped into the same express lane that Joe was manning. Even though the line was moving quickly, it was an especially busy day and there were quite a few people in the queue. She exclaimed,

“Won’t this line move any faster?”

The Cheerio in front of her shook his head and chuckled to himself. The Fruit Loop didn’t notice. She stood with her one item tucked under her arm, glaring at the rest of the line. Five minutes later, she was at the line’s head. Joe looked at her, in awe of her beauty. She was, perhaps, the most beautiful Fruit Loop he had ever seen. His mouth fell open as she said,

“I don’t usually shop here…”

Her pejorative comment had no effect on Joe, who still could not believe his eyes. The Fruit Loop had to snap her fingers in Joe’s face for him to finally take her credit card. She paid and left, but Joe could not stop thinking about her. He resolved to find out who she was and make her fall in love with him. There was only one problem: he was a Cheerio, and she was a Fruit Loop—even if she *did* love him, it was against the law for them to marry. Still, the thought of love and marriage was hopeful, and it occupied his mind for the next two years.

During those next two years, Joe never stopped thinking about the beautiful Fruit Loop. He worked as hard as he could, bought a chin-up bar to hand in the doorway of his tiny apartment, and subscribed to a gym membership. Joe lost some weight, started running in the mornings, and let his beard grow out. One day, much to his surprise, he awoke to a brand-new, hot-pink body that smelled very sweetly of apples. He had made the jump from Cheerio to Applejack!

That morning, Joe walked through the doors of the Wal-Mart and his co-workers stared at him, with their mouths agape. He continued working as a cashier, but one day the CEO of Wal-Mart fired Joe’s boss and promoted him to manager at the request of his co-workers, who knew his humble nature and diligence would help their local Wal-Mart. He doubled their pay, and even helped stock shelves when he had nothing else to do.

A few months passed, and Joe still worked out after the workday ended, but he became very lonely. The beautiful Fruit Loop still was all he thought about, so he devoted even more of his time to work and committed himself to physical fitness. In his deluded aspirations, he sought to win the heart of the Fruit Loop without even knowing her name.

Just as his hope was running low, the same Fruit Loop entered the Wal-Mart, again looking very rushed, and ran down the aisle frantically looking for another item. As she was running around a corner, she ran into Joe, who was carrying a stack of boxes. They collapsed onto the floor. The Fruit Loop began to shout obscenities as Joe helped her up.

“Sorry, miss.”

She sighed.

“No, I’m sorry. I ran into you. I should have been watching.”

“I’m Joe.”

His voice quivered slightly, and he held out his hand.

“Vanessa.”

Joe led Vanessa to the cashiers, where he let his Cheerio employee go on break so he could check Vanessa out. He took a good look at her, and it was as if not a day had passed since he had seen her last. The only difference now was that he was a jacked-up Applejack who felt much closer to winning Vanessa’s heart. She took her item and left once again. Thoughts of marrying Vanessa didn’t leave his mind for three more years.

In those three years, Joe committed every waking moment to physical fitness. He was promoted at work and given authority over all the Wal-Marts in the tri-state area. Joe was still kind to his employees and gave them high salaries, but the economy was booming and he earned quite a bit of money without working very long hours. He attended some formal parties for Wal-Mart executive Fruit Loops and saw they way they lived, so luxuriously. Joe envied it. But all his wishes and hopes relied on his body and what he was made of. He did not lose hope. And one day, much to Joe’s glee, he awoke to a brand-new, sugar-coated, bright blue body. He was finally a Fruit Loop!

That morning, Joe walked from his penthouse flat to the office and, like he usually did, ran up the stairs. All the cubicles were full when he entered, and everyone peered over to get a look at his new body. All the Applejacks in accounting were amazed, all the Applejacks in IT were amazed, and all the Applejacks in administration were amazed. His boss, the Fruit Loop directly under the CEO, took notice quickly and put in a good word with the CFO, who put in an even better word with the CEO. Both thought very highly of Joe and both thought he would make the perfect CEO one day. No-one knew that the CFO was sleeping with the CEO’s wife, however, and when the CEO found out, he delved so deep into alcohol that the board of trustees voted to let him go and replace him with Joe.

One day, Joe was walking down the street to the office when he passed Vanessa. She had not aged one day in the last three years, and he immediately stopped to reintroduce himself. Vanessa was surprised it was Joe, because she remembered him to be a mere Applejack, but she did remember him nonetheless. He asked her out for some drinks later that night, and she agreed.

Later that night, they met at a bar and got to talking. Joe discovered that Vanessa, despite her goddess-like beauty, had never been married and had only dated a couple other Fruit Loops. He was just as surprised when Vanessa said that she was interested in dating himself. Joe replied with a definite “yes” without hesitation. His dream had come true; now he was to only win her heart. When Joe got home that night, he put himself through the most strenuous workout he had ever done and fell asleep immediately after he had done his last deadlift.

Vanessa and Joe dated for eight months. Then, one day, on the terrace of his penthouse overlooking the harbor, Joe asked her to marry him. Vanessa screamed “yes!”

Over the next eight years, Joe and Vanessa were faithful to each other. They had three healthy, beautiful children, and Joe continued working as the CEO of Wal-Mart. The company flourished and Joe was able to buy a large mansion out in the country where he hoped to raise his children. He kept the penthouse in the city in case he had to work late, but most of the time he was able to drive home and read his kids their bedtime stories. Vanessa never aged a day, and Joe loved her with all his heart. He had finally fulfilled his dream, and life was good.

One day, Joe was finished with an important meeting and decided to clock out and drive home to surprise his children. He had forgotten what time the school day ended and arrived in the early afternoon at his mansion. A sleek, black sedan was in the driveway, and Joe didn’t know whose it was. He cracked open the front door slowly, and went straight to the bedroom without calling his wife’s name. Joe had a terrible feeling in his stomach. He threw the door to the master bedroom wide open and saw Vanessa in bed with the old CFO. He screamed obscenities at him and threw him out of his house. Vanessa tried to explain that it meant nothing, that she still loved him, but Joe would have none of it. He packed a bag, booked a plane ticket, called the office saying that he was taking a brief leave of absence, and drove to the airport, distraught.

He boarded a plane destined for Hawai’i and watched as his home grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Joe decided he would stay in Hawai’i for a week to get his head straight and figure out what to do. When the plane arrived the next day, Joe found a five-star hotel right next to the beach. The view was lovely, and every morning before the sun was at its hottest, he would walk along the waves and think about his life. He was troubled, but at the same time he was proud of himself and what he had made of himself. Joe wasn’t sure what to do.

One morning, he passed a young, beautiful woman walking the other way. She was a Fruit Loop, like himself, and though she was not as pretty as Vanessa, she was still breathtaking. Joe stopped, introduced himself, and offered to take her up to a favorite bar by the beach for some fruit juice. The Fruit Loop said her name was Merlot and that she, too, was on vacation. They had a few drinks and talked all afternoon; they told each other their darkest secrets and, by sunset, Joe felt like he knew Merlot better than he had ever known his wife. As the moon was rising, they kissed under the stars, and Joe took Merlot back to his hotel room.

The next day, they both walked along the water. The passed the same bar they had stopped at the day before, and a sign hung in the window:

“We’re closed for the Juice Festival on 3rd Street.”

The couple was puzzled, so the walked hand in hand to the location the sign specified. A large, frightening bouncer-Applejack stood in the doorway, so Joe gave him a tip and he let them in. The party inside was loud and exciting. Along the far wall, rows and rows of booths surrounded a buffet line. The music playing was so catchy, however, that Merlot dragged Joe onto the dancefloor. Hours passed, and they were soon tired. Looking for a place to sit, the picked a booth. They kissed again. Joe felt like a new breakfast cereal.

Smells coming from the buffet were so enticing that they had to try a little of everything. They stood in line and chatted up some of the other vacationers who were there for the food and drink. Soon, all the salty food had rendered them both very thirsty. When Joe offered to go find the line for the juice they had seen advertised, he stood between the islands of food and looked around. He didn’t see any juice. There was no punch line.

Richard's daughter was getting married.

She was his princess so he wanted to make her day everything she'd dreamed of. A gorgeous wedding chapel, a gourmet chef for the catering, and dozens of bottles of the finest champagne to be served in authentic Italian crystal. Except for the fact that Richard was an elementary school teacher and such extravagance was well beyond his means.

He tried going to the banks, but every bank in town turned him down because of his bad credit.

He sold his old comic books and baseball cards but his small collection didn't net him much.

His friends at work scraped together what they could, but even that wasn't enough.

His daughter told him that it didn't matter, that a simple wedding was enough for her; he knew, but he still wanted to spoil his little girl one last time.

One day, he was perusing want ads for a second job and saw a man in a fine suit walking by. A fat envelope dropped out of the man's newspaper and hit the ground. When the man didn't turn around to retrieve it, Richard jogged over and picked it up. He caught up to the man in the suit and tapped him on the shoulder.

The man turned around and speared Richard with a glare.

"Whaddya want?"

"Y-you dropped something." Richard proffered the envelope to the suited man who snatched it away, opened it, and began counting dozens of hundred dollar bills.

"You didn't take anything. You didn't even open it!" He seemed incredulous.

"It's not my business to. Have a nice day." Richard turned to leave but the suited man grabbed his elbow.

"I can't just let you go. If I'd have lost this dough I'd be a dead man. I always repay favors. If you ever need a favor, come here and ask for Paulo." He slipped a business card into Richard's pocket and strode away.

Later that night Richard decided to take the man up on his offer. The address was a ritzy Italian restaurant he'd never been to. He wore his best suit and rehearsed what he'd ask for if the man was serious about helping.

He walked in the door and felt immediately out of place. At the tables were all sorts of business owners, politicians, and even Hollywood actors. The host took one look at Richard's cheap suit and looked as if he were about to shoo him away.

Richard cleared his throat and said, "I'm here to see Paulo."

The host blinked and gestured for Richard to follow him.

Richard followed the host down a long hallway with increasingly sparse lighting. The noise of the restaurant faded as they walked deeper and deeper into the building. They soon came to an ornamented door and the host knocked a pattern of quick taps. A slot opened up at head height to reveal the face of the man Richard had met earlier. The man nodded to the host, who walked back the way they came.

The man, whom Richard assumed was Paulo, opened the door and beckoned him inside. The door shut behind him and the room was pitch black. Richard felt panic welling up before Paulo opened a door on the other side of the room.

Light flooded through and revealed a well-dressed Italian man behind a rich mahogany desk. He was stroking a white Persian cat while a phonograph played soft opera music.

"I understand you have done a great service for my son Paulo," the seated man said, "and I would be remiss if I didn't return the favor on his behalf. Do you have any questions before we get down to business?"

"Just one, sir. Why don't you have any lights in the other room?"

"It's a simple reason. It's always darkest before the Don."

The Black Sheep

A professor is sent to darkest Africa to live with a primitive tribe. He spends years with them, teaching them


reading, writing, maths and science. One day the wife of the tribe’s chief gives birth to a white child. The tribe is


shocked, and the chief pulls the professor aside and says, “Look here! You’re the only white man we’ve ever seen


and this woman gives birth to a white child. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened!” The professor


replied, “No, Chief. You’re mistaken. What you have here is a natural occurrence, what we in the civilized world


call an albino! Look at that field over there. All of the sheep are white except for one black one. Nature does this


on occasion.” The chief was silent for a moment, then said, “Tell you what. You don’t say anything more about that


sheep and I won’t say anything more about that white chil

The Butcher Dance

A guy has spent five years traveling all around the world making a documentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he has every single native dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film. He winds up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he pops into a pub for a well earned beer. He gets talking to one of the local Aborigines and tells him about his project. The Aborigine asks the guy what he thought of the "Butcher Dance." 

The guy's a bit confused and says "Butcher Dance? What's that?" 

"What? You no see Butcher Dance?" 

"No, I've never heard of it." 

"Oh mate. You crazy. How you say you film every native dance if you no see Butcher Dance?" 

"UmmSUM. I got a corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what you mean?" 

"No no, not corroborree. Butcher Dance much more important than corroborree." 

"Oh, well how can I see this Butcher Dance then?" 

"Mate, Butcher Dance right out bush. Many days travel to go see Butcher Dance." 

"Look, I've been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepest darkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances. Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance." 

"OK, mate. You drive north along highway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles, you see dirt track veer off to left. Follow dirt track for 126 miles 'til you see big huge dead gum tree - biggest tree you ever see. Here you gotta leave car, coz much to rough for driving. You strike out due west into setting sun. You walk 3 days 'til you hit creek. You follow this creek to Northwest. After 2 days you find where creek flows out of rocky mountains. Much too difficult to cross mountains here though. You now head south for half day 'til you see pass through mountains. Pass very difficult, very dangerous. Take 2, maybe 3 days to get through rocky pass. When through, head north-west for 4 days 'til reach big huge rock - 20 ft high and shaped like man's head. From rock, walk due west for 2 days and you find village.Here you see Butcher Dance." 

So the guy grabs his camera crew and equipment and heads out. After a couple of hours he finds the dirt track. The track is in a shocking state and he's forced to crawl along at a snails pace and so he doesn't reach the tree until dusk and he's forced to set up camp for the night. He sets out bright and early the following morning. His spirits are high and he's excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysterious dance which he had never heard mention of before. True to the directions he has been given, he reaches the creek after three days and follows it for another two until they reach the rocky mountains. The merciless sun is starting to take its toll by this time and his spirits
are starting to flag, but wearily he trudges on until he finds the pass through the hills - nothing will prevent him from completing his life's dream. The mountains prove to be every bit as treacherous as their guide said and at times they almost despair of getting their bulky equipment through. But after three and a half days of back breaking effort they finally force their way clear and continue their long trek. 

When they reach the huge rock, four days later, their water is running low and their feet are covered with blisters but they steel themselves and head out on the last leg of their journey. Two days later they virtually stagger into the village where the natives feed them and and give them fresh water and they begin to feel like new men. Once he's recovered enough, the guy goes before the village chief and tells him that he has come to film there Butcher Dance. 

"Oh mate. Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. You too late. You miss dance." 

"Well, when do you hold the next dance?" 

"Not 'til next year." 

"Well, I've come all this way. Couldn't you just hold an extra dance for me, tonight?" 

"No, no, no! Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once a year. If hold more, gods get very angry and destroy village! You want see Butcher Dance you come back next year." The guy is devastated, but he has no other option but to head back to civilization and back home. The following year, he heads back to Australia and, determined not to miss out again, sets out a week earlier than last time. He is quite willing to spend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensure he is present to witness it.
However, right from the start things go wrong. Heavy rains that year have turned the dirt track to mud and the car gets bogged every few miles, finally forcing them to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud on foot almost half the distance to the tree. They reach the creek and the mountains without any further hitch, but halfway through the ascent of the mountain they are struck by a fierce storm which rages for several days, during which they are forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until it subsides. It would be suicide to attempt to scale the treacherous paths in the face of such savage elements. 

Then, before they have traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of the crew sprains his ankle badly which slows down the rest of their journey to the rock and then the village enormously. Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they have been travelling, they stagger into the village at about 12:00 noon. 

"The Butcher Dance!" gasps the guy. "Please don't tell me I'm too late!" 

The chief recognizes him and says "No, white fella. Butcher Dance performed tonight. You come just in time." 

Relieved beyond measure, the crew spend the rest of the afternoon setting up their equipment - preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid as dusk falls, the natives start to cover there bodies in white paint and adorn themselves in all manner of bird's feathers and animal skins. Once darkness has settled fully over the land, the natives form a circle around a huge roaring fire. 

A deathly hush descends over performers and spectators alike as a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entire body enters the circle and begins to chant. Some sort of witch doctor or medicine man, figures the guy and he whispers to the chief "What's he doing?" 

"Hush" whispers the chief. "You first white man ever to see most sacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the dreamworld watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us and protect us for another year." 

The chanting of the Holy man reaches a stunning crescendo before he removes himself from the circle. From somewhere the rhythmic pounding of drums booms out across the land and the natives begin to sway to the stirring rhythm. 

The guy is becoming caught up in the fervour of the moment himself. This is it. He now realizes beyond all doubt that his wait has not been in vain. He is about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever conceived by mankind. 

The chief strides to his position in the circle and, in a big booming voice, starts to sing: "You butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right arm out. You butch yer right arm in and you shake it all about"

What's the sound from the monastery?

There was a little boy who lived in a far away land. Close to the boy's home, there was a tall mountain, always covered in snow at the top. Also at the top of the mountain, there was an ancient monastery where ancient monks lived.

Sometimes, the little boy, as he was riding his tricycle around his yard, would look up at the monastery on the tall mountain and wonder what it was like up there.

One day, when the wind was blowing down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold and the little boy could hear a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the little boy made a peanut butter sandwich, hopped on his tricycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him hours and hours, but he finally made it to the top. He bravely pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Hello, Mr. Monk, sir. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the little boy got back on his tricycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy was a bit bigger and stronger now and now rode around town on his bicycle.

As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the bigger boy made a ham and cheese sandwich, hopped on his bicycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him hours, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Hey, Mr. Monk. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the big boy got back on his bicycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy had grown into a strapping youth now and rode around town on his motorcycle.

As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the strapping youth grabbed a slice of pizza, hopped on his motorcycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him 30 minutes, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Yo, Mr. Monk, dude. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the strapping youth got back on his motorcycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy was now a young man and often rode around in his new convertible sportscar.

As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.

So, the young man bought a burger at a fast food place, got in his convertible sportscar, and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him 20 minutes, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.

"Mr. Monk. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

Sadly, the young man got back in his convertible sportscar and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.

That night, he thought and thought about the very strange noise and how he just had to know what caused it. So, he resolved to do something about it the next day.

The next day, he got in his convertible sportscar and raced up the mountain, slammed on his brakes, and skidded to a stop right in front of the massive door to the monastery.

He honked the horn of his convertible sportscar until the head monk finally opened the door.

"Alright, Mr. Monk, I want to know what is making that very strange noise coming from you monastery!"

"I'm sorry," replied the head monk, "I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

"Well, then can I become a monk?"

"Why certainly! It is quite easy. You must travel the earth and count the number of blades of grass in every field and the number of grains of sand on every beach. When you return with your answer, then you shall be a monk."

So the young man left the monastery and travelled the earth. For years and years he counted the blades of grass and grains of sand, until one day he had finally finished. He made his way slowly back to the monastery and found the head monk.

"Oh, Mr. Monk, I have travelled the earth these past years, counting the blades of grass and grains of sand. I finally know that there are 123,123,123,123,123 blades of grass in the fields and 123,123,123,123,123 grains of sand on the beaches and I would like to become a monk."

So the man became a monk. At last, he would now be able to find out the source of that very strange noise coming from the monastery.

"Mr. Monk, what is the noise coming from the monastery?" asked the new monk.

The head monk replied, "The source is too complicated to describe in words. I am afraid that you must see it for yourself to truly understand it. This key will show you the answer you seek."

"Take this key to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery. There you will find a long corridor. At the end of the corridor is a door and through the door is the thing that makes the noise."

Well, of course the new monk went immediately to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery and there he did indeed find the long corridor. He walked down the corridor until he could see the door at the end.

Unfortunately, there were three magical fires that never go out blocking the man from the door. He decided to jump the fires to reach the door. The man made sure the key was secure in his hand, took a running charge at the first fire and leapt!

Over the first fire he flew, but he dropped the key. The man leapt back over the fire, ran all the way back down the long corridor, out of the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery and back to the head monk.

"Oh, Mr. Monk! I am so sorry! I went to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery, down the long corridor to the door, but there were magical fires and I dropped the key in the first one as I leapt over it."

"Do not worry, for there is another key and you must overcome tests on your way to enlightenment. The second key, however is far, far away in Canada."

The new monk left the monastery and travelled to Canada. It took many years because he had no money, being a monk and all.

Eventually, he arrived in Canada and managed to track down the key to the door. The monk then had to make the return journey equally as painstakingly, but finally he arrived back at the monastery. Down into the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery he went, until he found the long corridor.

The three magical fires were in front of him as he took a running start.

Over the first fire went the monk, key still in hand!

Over the second fire went the monk, key still- RATS!
He had dropped the key in the second fire. The monk leapt back over the second fire, back over the first fire, back down the long corridor he walked and out of the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery. The monk went back to the head monk.

"Oh, Mr. Monk! I am so sorry! I went to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery, down the long corridor to the door, but there were magical fires and I dropped the key in the second one as I leapt over it."

"Do not worry, for there is one more key and we must all overcome tests on our way to enlightenment. The third key, however is far, far away in Australia."

The monk left the monastery and travelled to Australia. It took many years because he had no money being a monk and all.

Eventually he arrived in Australia and managed to track down the key to the door. The monk then had to make the return journey equally as painstakingly, but finally he arrived back at the monastery. By this time, he was quite an old monk.

Down into the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery he went, until he found the long corridor. The three magical fires were in front of him as he took a running start.

Over the first fire went the quite old monk, key still in hand!

Over the second fire went the quite old monk, key still in hand!

Over the THIRD fire went the quite old monk, key still in hand!

He had made it! He'd made the jumps and here he was standing outside the door with the answer to his question. Finally, finally, after so many, many, many years of wanting to know what was making the strange noise, he would know. The answer lay through the door in front of him and he could at last be at peace with himself.

Slowly, the quite old monk slid the key into the lock. Turning the key a slight 'click' was to be heard as the lock moved back allowing the quite old monk to open the door. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Shock and amazement came over him as he finally realized the answer to his question!

"Do you want me to tell you what it was?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you. You aren't a monk."

One time, I was very suddenly and unexpectedly lost my job

My company had a mass lay off, and I didn’t make the cut. Since I was currently single and living alone, I quickly became broker than broke. I wound up having so little money in fact, that I couldn’t even pay my electricity bill. Those were the darkest times of my life

Poor John...

John wakes up on Monday morning and feels horrible, so he heads to the doctor. The doctor tells him he has two years to live unless he can find a rare wriggly wiggly worm found in Africa.

So he flies over to deepest darkest Africa and searches for 4 months till he finds and collects some wriggly wiggly worms in a match box he rushes back home and goes back to the doctor only to find the worm has disappeared.

So he flies back over, and searches again for months before he finds more worms and puts them in a match box and tapes it up but once again he turns up home and un-tapes the box to find the worms gone!

So John with only one year left to live flies back, and now is more proficient at finding these worms so he puts them them in the match box, tapes it up, puts it in a small cardboard box and tapes that up. He flies back, John opens the little cardboard box, then the matchbox, and they’re not there!

John is losing faith now so he flies out once more and catches the worms and put them in match box, tapes it up, puts it in a small cardboard box and tapes that up, then he puts it in a safe and puts that on a private jet. He flies back as fast as possible and finds the worms gone again!

He only has one week left now so John is exhausting all his resources to get these worms back, he flies out and gets some more, he then puts them in a match box, tapes it up, puts it in a small cardboard box and tapes that up, then puts them in the safe, then welds the safe up and then chained it down. He flies back and cracks open the safe, a rips open the cardboard box and pops open the matchbox. The worms have gone.

John is overwhelmed with sadness, he only has three days left so he decides to make a cup of tea and live out his days in peace. So he goes to the tap to fill up the kettle. And guess what comes out???

Water.

John dies.

Bozo the Clown- The Darkest Joke Ever Told

A man goes to the doctor. He says, "Doctor, I've been depressed for as long as I can remember. The world is such a dark place. What should I do?"

The doctor says, "Go to the park and find Bozo the Clown. Everyone who goes to see him perform laughs, and everyone leaves him feeling happy."

The man responds, "But doctor, I am Bozo the Clown."

Darkest Africa

Two explores were captured by a vicious tribe and sentenced to death. The witch doctor explained that as they weren't savages and to prove it he granted each captive a last wish.

The first explorer requested a sumptuous meal. when the meal was over he was killed,skinned and they used his skin to make a canoe.

When asked, the second explorer requested a fork. Although perplexed his wish was granted.

He took the fork and whilst stabbing himself several times, said, lets see you fuckers make a canoe out of me.

An explorer travels to deepest darkest Africa to witness a solar eclipse.

He is captured by cannibals and imprisoned. He hears that he will be killed and eaten on the day of the eclipse, so he asks his guard about how the day will proceed, hoping that he can use his knowledge of the eclipse to his advantage.

"Well, usually we start the fire in the morning and slaughter when the sun is highest in the sky.", the guard says.

The explorer is happy: the eclipse starts just before midday, so the cannibals will release him when he shows his awesome power to take away the sun.

The guard continues, "But in your case, we'll probably delay things a bit so we can watch the eclipse."

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