A man buys a talking centipede for $5000, and takes it home in a small box.
After 30 minutes, he opens the box and says “Would you like to go for a pint?”.
Silence; the centipede doesn’t answer. Raising his voice, the man repeats his question, but still no reply.
Becoming agitated, and starting to think he has been conned, he leans forward and loudly shouts the question into the box.
The centipede sticks his head out of the box and angrily shouts back at the man; “I heard you the first time you impatient bastard, I’m putting on my fucking shoes.”
he asked his friend: “how do you get women to like you so much?”
barney replied: “i have a trick, every time i meet them i squeeze them on the butt, it has some kind of pavlovian effect or something but it always works”
the man then went home, him and his wife haven’t had sex for a couple of months now so he thought he should try this trick.
his wife was in the kitchen, he approached her from behind and squeezed her ass
These three women were roommates. One night they all had all gone out on dates and they all came home at about the same time.
The first one said, “You know you’ve been on a good date when you come home with your hair all messed up.”
The second one said, “No, you know you’ve been on a good date when you come home with your makeup all smeared.”
The third one said nothing, but reached under her skirt, removed her panties and threw them against the wall, where they stuck. “Now THAT’S a good date!”
He was met at the Pearly Gates by Saint Peter who led him down the streets of gold. They passed mansion after mansion until they came to the very end of the street. Saint Peter stopped the rich man in front of a little shack. “This belongs to you,” said Saint Peter.
“Why do I get this ugly thing when there are so many mansions I could live in?” the man demanded.
“We did the best we could with the money you sent us!” Saint Peter replied.
Friday night, Patrick went to his friend Paddy and said
“Paddy, I need a favor – I’m sleeping with the bartender’s wife. Can you hold him in the pub for an hour after he closes up?”
Paddy was not very fond of the idea, but being Patrick was a lifelong friend, he reluctantly agreed.
After the pub closed, Paddy struck up a conversation with the bartender asking him all sorts of stupid questions in an effort to keep him occupied. After some time, the bartender became suspicious and asked, “Paddy, what are you really up to with all this?”
Paddy, filled with feelings of guilt and remorse, confessed to the bartender and said, “I’m sorry…. my friend Patrick is sleeping with your wife right now and asked me to keep you occupied.”
The bartender smiled and putting a brotherly hand on Paddy`s shoulder, said *”I think you’d better hurry home, my wife died two years ago.”
A man is stuck inside a public restroom without any toilet paper. He calls over to
the man in the next stall, “Hey, you got any extra toilet paper in there?”
“No,” replies the man.
“You got any newspaper over there?” the stranded man asks.
“Nope,” the second man replies.
After a moment of silence, the first man asks the second, “You got two fives for
a ten?
A scoutmaster is out driving a country road near dusk, with his wife in the passenger seat. Suddenly a deer leaps out from the roadside and stands stock-still, frozen in the headlights. The scoutmaster hits the horn, but there’s no noise but the screeching of the car’s tires as it skids to a halt just short of the deer. The deer, finally recovering its wits, bounds away.
The scoutmaster puts the car in park, takes off his seatbelt, pops the hood and roots around in the engine compartment for a minute. He then returns to the driver’s seat, dusting off his hands in satisfaction.
A local bar was so sure that its barman was the strongest man in the town that they offered a standing $1000 bet.
The barman would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran out and challenge any man to squeeze out another drop.
Weightlifters, arm wrestlers; they all tried and
lost the bet.
Then one day, a scrawny little man, (if he stood sideways you would not see him) wearing scratched glasses, a ten year old polyester suit, walked in and said
“I’d like to take on the bet.”
After the laughter had died down, the barman said, “Okay”; grabbed the lemon and squeezed away.
Then he handed the wrinkled remains of the Lemon Rind to the little man.
But the Crowd’s laughter turned to total silence….as the man clenched his little fist around the lemon….
six drops fell into the glass.
As the barman paid the $1000 bet, he asked “What do you do for a living?
Are you a lumberjack, a metal worker,
a weight-lifter, or what?”
The little man quietly replied:
“I work for the IRS .”
A man was in a long line at his local supermarket.
As he got to the register he realised he had forgotten to get condoms, so he asked the checkout girl if she could have some brought up to the register.
She asked, “What size condoms?”
The customer replied that he didn’t know.
She asked him to drop his trousers, reached over the counter, grabbed hold of him and called over the intercom: “One box of large condoms, Register 5″.
The next man in line thought this was interesting, and like most of us was up for a cheap thrill. When he got up to the register, he told the cashier that he too had forgotten to get condoms, and asked if she could have some brought to the register for him.
She asked him what size, and he stated that he didn’t know.
She asked him to drop his trousers, gave him a quick feel, picked up the intercom microphone and said: “One box of medium sized condoms, Register 5″.
A few customers back was this teenage boy. He thought what he had seen was way too cool. He had never had any type of sexual contact with a woman, so he thought this was his chance.
When he got to the checkout he told the girl he needed some condoms.
She asked him what size and he said he didn’t know.
She asked him to drop his trousers, reached over the counter, gave him a quick squeeze then picked up the Intercom and said…
“Mop and bucket, Register 5″
An Engineer dies and goes to Hell. Dissatisfied with the level of discomfort, he starts designing and building improvements.
After a while, Hell has air conditioning, flush toilets and escalators. The Engineer is a pretty popular guy.
One day God calls and asks Satan, “So, how’s it going down there?”
Satan says, “Hey things are going great. We’ve got air conditioning and flush toilets and escalators, and there’s no telling what this Engineer is going to come up with next.”
God is horrified. “What? You’ve got an Engineer? That’s a mistake – he should never have gone down there! You know all Engineers go to Heaven. Send him up here! ”
Satan says, “No way. I like having an Engineer on the staff.
I’m keeping him.”
God says, “Send him up here or I’ll sue.”
“Yeah, right,” Satan laughs,
“And where are you going to get a lawyer?”
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.
The house feels so empty without him now.
I miss you Alex,
-f2x
July 2025
S
M
T
W
T
F
S
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
GET THE PLUNGER!
What is Flush Twice?
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.
