A man owned a small ranch near Great Falls, Montana. The Montana Labor Department got a tip that he was not paying proper wages to his help and sent an investigator out to interview him.
“I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them,” demanded the investigator
“Well,” replied the rancher, “there’s my ranch hand who’s been with me for 3 years. I pay him $1200 a week plus free room and board.”
“The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $1000 per week plus free room and board.”
“Then there’s the halfwit. He works about 18 hours every day, with no days off, and does about 90% of all the work around here. He makes about $10 per week and pays his own room and board.”
“But, I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night, and he also sleeps with my wife occasionally.”
“That’s the guy I want to talk to… the halfwit,” says the investigator.
Two married men were at the bar, the one looks at the clock and tells his friend, “I’m not looking forward to going home. My wife is going to chew me out again for being away drinking so late. Every time I’m out like this I try to sneak back home and into bed without waking her so she doesn’t know how late I’ve been out. I turn off the car and coast into the driveway. I take off my shoes and enter through the side door. I even get changed in the bathroom and then try to slip into bed unnoticed. But she always wakes up and then I have to stay awake and give appropriate answers for the next 30 minutes of angry lecture.”
“I never have that problem.” says the friend. “I roar into the driveway and bring the car to a screeching halt, slam the front door shut as I come in, throw open the bedroom door, jump in bed with her and slap her butt and say, ‘Guess who’s horny?!’ and then she pretends to be asleep.”
A young Law student, having failed his Law exam, goes up to his crusty old professor, who is renowned for his razor-sharp legal mind. Student, “Sir, do you really know everything about this subject?” Professor, “Actually, I probably do. Otherwise I wouldn’t be a professor, would I?” Student, “OK. So I’d like to ask you a question. If you can give me the correct answer, I will accept my marks as it is. If you can’t give me the correct answer, however, you’ll have to give me an “A”. Professor, “Hmmmm, alright. So what’s the question?” Student, “What is legal but not logical, logical but not legal, and neither logical nor legal?” The professor wracks his famous brain, but just can’t crack the answer. Finally he gives up and changes the student’s failing mark into an “A” as agreed, and the student goes away, very pleased. The professor continues to wrack his brain over the question all afternoon, but still can’t get the answer. So finally he calls in a group of his brightest students and tells them he has a really, really tough question to answer, “What is legal but not logical, logical but not legal, and neither logical nor legal? ” To the professor’s surprise (and embarrassment), all the students immediately raise their hands. “All right,” says the professor and asks his favorite student to answer. “It’s quite easy, sir” says the student “You see, you are 75 years old and married to a 30 year old woman, which is legal, but not logical. Your wife has a 22 year old lover, which is logical, but not legal. And your wife’s lover failed his exam but you’ve just given him an “A”, which is neither legal, nor logical.”
A young guy from North Carolina moves to Florida and goes to a big “everything under one roof” department store looking for a job.
The Manager says, “Do you have any sales experience?” The kid says “Yeah. I was a vacuum salesman back in North Carolina.”
Well, the boss was unsure, but he liked the kid and figured he’d give him a shot, so he gave him the job.
“You start tomorrow. I’ll come down after we close and see how you did.”
His first day on the job was rough, but he got through it. After the store was locked up, the boss came down to the sales floor.
“How many customers bought something from you today?” The kid frowns and looks at the floor and mutters, “One”. The boss says “Just one?!!? Our sales people average sales to 20 to 30 customers a day.
That will have to change, and soon, if you’d like to continue your employment here. We have very strict standards for our sales force here in Florida. One sale a day might have been acceptable in North Carolina, but you’re not in the mountains anymore, son.”
The kid took his beating, but continued to look at his shoes, so the boss felt kinda bad for chewing him out on his first day. He asked (semi-sarcastically), “So, how much was your one sale for?”
The kid looks up at his boss and says “$101,237.65″.
The boss, astonished, says $101,237.65?!? What the heck did you sell?”
The kid says, “Well, first, I sold him some new fish hooks. Then I sold him a new fishing rod to go with his new hooks. Then I asked him where he was going fishing and he said down the coast, so I told him he was going to need a boat, so we went down to the boat department and I sold him a twin engine Chris Craft. Then he said he didn’t think his Honda Civic would pull it, so I took him down to the automotive department and sold him that 4×4 Expedition.”
The boss said “A guy came in here to buy a fish hook and you sold him a boat and a TRUCK!?”
The kid said “No, the guy came in here to buy tampons for his wife, and I said, ‘Dude, your weekend’s shot, you should go fishing!”
A guy rents an apartment in New York, and goes to the lobby to put his name on the group mailbox.
While there, an attractive young lady comes out of the apartment next to the mailboxes wearing a robe.
He smiles at the young girl and she strikes up a conversation with him.
As they talk, her robe slips open, and it quite obvious that she has nothing on under the robe.
Poor guy breaks out into a sweat trying to maintain eye contact.
After a few minutes, she places her hand on his arm and says, “Let’s go in my apartment, I hear someone coming…”
He precedes her into the apartment, and after she closes the door, she leans against it allowing her robe to fall completely open. She purrs at him, “What would you say is my best feature?”
The flustered, embarrassed guy stammers, clears his throat several times, and finally squeaks out “Oh, it’s got to be your ears!”
She’s astounded! Why my ears? Looks at these boobs! They are full, don’t sag, and they’re all mine! My butt – it’s firm, doesn’t sag, and has no cellulite! Look at this skin, no blemishes, or scars! Why in heaven’s name would you say my ears are the best part of my body?!”
Clearing his throat once again, he stammers – “Outside when you said you heard someone coming – THAT WAS ME!”
Two Irish priests are off to the showers late one night. They undress and step into the showers before they realize there is no soap.
Father John says he has soap in his room and goes to get it, not bothering to dress.
He grabs two bars of soap, one in each hand , and heads back to the showers.
He is halfway down the hall when he sees three nuns heading his way Having no place to hide, he stands against the wall and freezes like he’s a statue.
The nuns stop and comment on how life-like he looks.
The first nun suddenly reaches out and pulls on his manhood.
Startled, he drops a bar of soap.
“Oh look” says the first nun, “it’s a soap dispenser”.
To test her theory the second nun also pulls on his manhood.
Sure enough, he drops the second bar of soap.
Now the third nun decides to have a go.
She pulls once, then twice and three times but nothing happens.
So she gives several more tugs, then yells…
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, HAND LOTION TOO!”
“Late again!” the third-grade teacher sternly said to little Robbie.
“It ain’t my fault this time, Miss Russell. You can blame this ‘un on my Daddy.The reason I’m three hours late is my Daddy sleeps naked!”
Miss Russell had taught grammar school for 30-some-odd years. Despite her mounting fears, she asked little Robbie what he meant by that.
Full of grins and mischief, and in the flower of his youth, little Robbie and trouble were old friends but he always told the truth.
“You see, Miss Russell, out at the farm we got this here low down fox. The last few nights, he done ate six hens. Last night, when Daddy heard a noise out in the chicken pen, he grabbed his double barreled shot gun and said to my Ma, “That fox is back again… I’m a gonna git him!”
“Stay back,” Daddy whispered to all us kids!
“My Daddy was naked as a jaybird — no boots, no pants, no shirt! To the hen house he crawled, just like an Injun on the snoop. Then, he stuck that double-barrelled 12-gauge shotgun through the window of the coop. As he stared into the darkness, with a fox on his mind, our old hound dog, Rip, had done gone and woke up and comes sneaking up behind Daddy. Then, as we all looked on, plumb helpless, old Rip done went and stuck his cold nose in my Daddy’s crack!”
“Miss Russell, we all been pluckin’ chickens since three o’clock this mornin!”
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
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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.
