Ben went on safari with his wife and mother-in-law.
One evening, while still deep in the jungle, the Mrs. awoke to find her mother gone.
Rushing to her husband, she insisted on them both trying to find her mother.
Ben picked up his rifle, took a swig of whiskey, and started to look for her. In a clearing not far from the camp, they came upon a chilling sight: the mother-in-law was backed up against a thick, impenetrable bush, and a large male lion stood facing her.
The wife said, “What are we going to do?”
“Nothing,” said Ben, “The lion got himself into this mess, let him get himself out of it.”
Agnes went to the store to buy some toilet paper. She was a bit overwhelmed by the selection and asked a clerk for assistance. “So what are all these different options on all these toilet papers?” she asked.
The clerk explained, “Well some of them have ripples to help clean better, some have two ply for added strength, some have built in lotion for softness…”
“That’s all good and well, but I’m living on a fixed income. Which one is the cheapest?” asked Agnes.
“Here you go, Ma’am,” said the clerk as he handed Agnes a roll of tissue.
“And what brand is this?” She asked skeptically.
“It’s our store brand,” explained the clerk. “It doesn’t really have a name.”
Agnes bought the toilet paper and took it home. A week later she was back at the grocery shopping and ran into the clerk from the week before.
“I think I’ve got the perfect name for that toilet paper you sold me,” said Agnes. “You should call it John Wayne.”
“And why is that?” asked the clerk.
Agnes replied, “Because it’s rough, it’s tough, and it don’t take shit off of nobody!”
Do you mind if I do a filler rant this week? I really don’t feel like doing any of this right now, so let’s just skip to the kudos.
Kudos
Thanks George and Glenn for all the jokes you’ve sent me. If anyone else would like to add more jokes to the collection please use our submission page or send and email to flush2x@gmail.com.
“If you think your boss is stupid, remember: you wouldn’t have a job if he was any smarter.” ― John Gottman
Mrs. Banker was in her late 90’s and lived next door to the Peterson’s.
Being concerned about the aged widow, Mrs. Peterson told her young daughter, “Dear, would you please go next door and see how old Mrs. Banker is today?”
The young girl went over to see Mrs. Banker and not even a moment later she was back to tell her mother, “Mrs. Banker told me to tell you, it’s none of your business how old she is.”
The interviewer asked, “Are you allergic to anything?”
“Yes,” John replied. “Caffeine. I can’t drink coffee.”
“I see,” remarked the interviewer. “Well then, have you ever been in the military service before?”
“Yes,” John explained. “I was in Iraq for one tour.”
The interviewer noted, “That will give you 5 extra points towards employment. By the way, were you disabled in any way?”
John said, “Yes, a bomb exploded near me, and I lost both of my testicles.”
Upon hearing this, the interviewer grimaced and said “I’m sorry to hear that, but the good news is that you have enough points for me to hire you right now. Our normal hours are 8 am to 4 pm, but tell you what: You can start tomorrow at 10 am, and just plan on starting at 10 am every day.”
John was a bit dismayed by the unusual preferential treatment and remarked, “If the hours are from 8 am to 4 pm, then I want to do my part and come to work at the regular time.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” explained the interviewer. “You see, this is a government job. For the first two hours, we just stand around drinking coffee and scratching our balls. I just didn’t see any point in you coming in for that.”
A little guy got on a plane and sat next to a window.
A few minutes later, a big, heavy, hulk of a guy plopped down next to him and immediately fell asleep.
After the plane took off, the little guy started to feel airsick, but didn’t want to wake the big guy to ask if he could let him out to go to the bathroom.
Suddenly, the plane hit an air pocket and an uncontrollable wave of nausea passed through the little guy. He could not hold it any longer and hurled all over the big guy’s chest.
The big guy woke up and looked down to see the vomit all over him.
Without hesitation, the little guy asked, “Are you feeling any better now?”
I suppose I should start by telling you how it happened. It was an otherwise nondescript day back in February. I went to get out of my rocker-recliner and when I scooched forward to get up, the front armrests bottomed out on the floor as they always do. Unbeknownst to me, Alex just happened to be laying down there that fateful day, and his left arm managed to get pinched.
Of course he yowled the loudest I'd ever heard him yell in his entire life and shot off into the basement. I felt terrible about it, but then I had no way of knowing he was down there when I went to get up. After a short while, Alex came back upstairs, and I was able to check for injury.
Shockingly, there were no broken bones, no blood, and Alex was able to walk just fine. It almost seemed cartoonish at the time, but down the left side of his left arm was a ribbon of flattened fur. He seemed somewhat indifferent to this, and acted like he just wanted to put the whole thing behind him. Seeing as Alex didn't appear to be in immediate danger, I took a "wait and see" position.
Over the next month, the "ribbon" began to shrink inward towards his elbow. I took this as a good sign that his injury was healing naturally and everything would be fine... But things were not fine. After a month and a half, his elbow began to swell. By mid-April I had to take him in to the vet for an exam.
The vet did a fair bit of Hmmm'ing and scrunched her face a lot. She didn't want to poke it with anything for fear it might introduce something. She took some measurements and expressed a "wait and see" attitude. I then scheduled a follow up appointment two months out.
Only a month later in mid-May, the swelling on his elbow had increased to the point that it started to ulcer. I called the vet and got him in immediately. This time they tried to drain it, but it went horribly. After the first stick, Alex started squirting blood all over the place, and the vet and technician freaked out and were running around looking for towels while I had to hold my cat down in a growing pool of his own blood.
After they got things back under control, she tried again with a larger needle, and went in from a different direction. After plunging to the center of the mass, she remarked that it was solid and that the fluid had probably dispersed into the surrounding tissue. She then went on to suggest that it might even be "malignant" and recommended a biopsy. They gave me an estimate for the procedure that ran from $500 to $800. I immediately left and made an appointment with another vet that I had gone to in the past.
The next day, my alternate vet didn't have any good news. By now, Alex's arm was very infected. At first he suggested that the arm would have to come off, but after noting Alex's age, he pulled back and recommended palliative care. I pushed for a quote on the cost of an amputation, and he informed me it would be around $3500 at the lowest, and that at his age, Alex would only live another 6 months after the surgery, and to just stick with palliative care.
They gave Alex a shot of antibiotics, a shot for long term pain management, prednisolone tablets and a liquid antibiotic, along with an appointment to come back about a month later.
Over the memorial day weekend, I cleaned Alex's wound and administered his meds. Alex was still Alex though. He obviously wanted to live, so I began making phone calls. Eventually I got in touch with the Humane Society. It took week and a half to finally get in, but after looking at Alex's arm, their surgeon said that the arm was "not compatible with long term survival" and agreed to amputate it... in two weeks.
That was the longest two weeks of my life.
Every day that thing on his elbow grew bigger and bigger. In the final week, it started to split open. It looked like something out of a horror movie. The outer layer of skin died off and eventually I had to cut the hard chunk of dried flesh off with scissors. Fortunately the antibiotics prescribed by the second vet kept the wound site free from infection.
And through all of this, Alex was still Alex. He just kept on living his life like nothing was wrong. Even with that thing on his arm, he still walked normal, climbed up and down the stairs, jumped on the bed, table, dresser, et cetera. Part of me knew this cat was gonna make it, but part of me was scared that his arm was going to go septic and Alex would die.
I felt relieved on the day of the surgery. We made it through to this day! Alex would be a tripod, but he was going to live! I dropped Alex off at the Human Society and went to work expecting to pick him up between 4:00 pm and 5:00 pm.
My phone rang a little before noon. The voice on the other end informed me that the surgery had gone fine, and they didn't notice anything wrong during the procedure, but in the recovery room, Alex's heart rate began to drop, he went non-responsive, and his pupils dilated. The surgeon explained that sometimes a blood clot will break free during the surgery and make its way into the brain. Alex had had a stroke. There was nothing more they could do.
Moments later, Alex died.
Usually I show off pictures of Gail here, (she's doing find by the way). Gail is a fun dog who loves to constantly run and play, but Alex was the one that I could really count on for affection. He would hop up on my chest when I was resting in my recliner and purr. He would be there at the door to greet me when I came home. He would keep me company when I pooped. He would wake me in the morning, and insist I gave him a thorough petting before I went to sleep at night. He talked to me with his incessant meows, and made sure I never left the house without filling the food and water bowls. Alex loved to get his "full kitty massage" complete with belly rubs, and he was the kind of cat that would walk up and headbutt me to let me know I was his as much as he was mine.
Flush Twice has been around since May of 2003. It started out as a JOTD (Joke of the Day) website. New jokes were published every weekday. Over the years, good jokes were increasingly hard to come by, and eventually they got so rare that I just stopped trying to publish them.
Since 2004 there has also been an eponymous comic. I still occasionally publish a new one on Saturdays. It’s also rare anymore, but sometimes it happens.
Here lately I’ve been posting a “Link of the Day”. For the time being, I will be featuring a new website from my enormous collection of bookmarked websites every weekday. None of it is solicited promotions, and no one is paying me to feature their site. These are just websites that at one time I thought were interesting enough to add to my bookmarks folder.
I highly encourage using some kind of ad blocking extension before clicking on any of these links. You’ll also hear me say this phrase a lot about these posts: “They can’t all be winners.” But it’s better than just leaving the site abandoned.
The jokes were generously provided by friends and visitors such as yourself. I want to express my eternal thanks to everyone over the years who helped contribute to the collection.
So what is it that makes a joke funny?
It all boils down to a sudden shift in perception. The story starts you thinking one way, then the punchline turns that thinking on its ear. The art of the joke is to craft a short story that isn’t overly contrived, then deliver a punchline that suddenly shifts your perception about the story you were being told.
Many of the jokes on this site are offensive, and I make no apologies for it. Offensive jokes work by making the reader uncomfortable through the use of a taboo subject thus enhancing the underlying humor. Without the offensive element, the joke would simply not be as funny.
