The pioneers had came to settle in Oklahoma back during the covered wagon days. The journey was filled with peril and frequently there were bloody misunderstandings with the local natives.
One day the leader of the convoy heard the sound of a drum off in the distance.
BRRUM bum bum bum BRRUM bum bum bum
They stopped to circle up the convoy and took a defensive position. They were unable to hear where the drum was coming from but it was definitely getting louder.
BRRUM bum bum bum BRRUM bum bum bum
The head of the convoy looked over at the guy who sat shotgun on the lead wagon with him and said, “I don’t like the sound of that drum.”
A voice called out from somewhere in the distance: “He’s not our usual drummer!”
An old Texas cowhand came riding into town on a hot, dry, dusty day. The local sheriff watched from his chair in front of the saloon as the cowboy wearily dismounted and tied his horse to the rail a few feet in front of the sheriff.
“Howdy, stranger,” said the sheriff.
“Howdy, Sheriff,” said the cowboy. The cowboy moved slowly to the back of the horse, lifted its tail and placed a big kiss where the sun doesn’t shine. He dropped the horse’s tail, stepped up on the walk, and aimed towards the swing doors of the saloon.
“Hold on there, mister,” said the sheriff. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”
“I reckon you did, Sheriff. I got me some powerful chapped lips.”
So, a priest, a rabbi, and a nun walk into a bar. The bartender looks at them and says, “sorry, we don’t serve jokes here.” They all nod and walk out and the bartender keeps cleaning glasses.
A man carrying a frog and a tiny piano walks into the bar and the bartender looks up, sees them, and says, “hey, sorry, we don’t serve jokes here. You’re going to have to find someplace else.” And the frog starts doing a little bit but the man stops him. “We’re gonna have to busk somewhere else Fred,” he says to the frog. And they leave.
Then a talking dog walks into the bar and says, “hey give me a drink pal. It’s been a rough day.” And the bartender gets mad because it’s like the third joke to walk into his bar so he says, “look bud, we don’t serve jokes here. Get walking before I call the cops.” And the dog starts barking but he eventually leaves.
So now the bartender is having a rough day himself, right? First the whole convent, the frog and the piano, then the talking dog? Couldn’t be worse right?
Then a chicken walks in. And the bartender sighs. And this chicken struts right up to the bar.
“Can I get a drink?”
And the bartender loses it. “Look asshole, I’ve told a thousand people today, we don’t serve jokes here.”
And the chicken says, “take it easy, man, take it easy. If I can’t get a drink here where can I get one?”
Jane and Arlene are outside their nursing home, having a drink and a smoke, when it starts to rain. Jane pulls out a condom, cuts off the end, puts it over her cigarette, and continues smoking.
Arlene: What in the hell is that?
Jane: A condom. This way my cigarette doesn’t get wet.
Arlene: Where did you get it?
Jane: You can get them at any pharmacy.
The next day, Arlene hobbles herself into the local pharmacy and
announces to the pharmacist that she wants a box of condoms.
The pharmacist, obviously embarrassed, looks at her kind of strangely (she is, after all, over 80 years of age), but very delicately asks what size, texture, brand of condom she prefers.
‘Doesn’t matter Sonny, as long as it fits on a Camel.’
The pharmacist fainted!
Two aliens landed in the desert near a petrol station that was closed for the night.
They approached one of the pumps assuming it was an earthling and the younger alien addressed it saying, ‘Greetings, we come in peace. Take us to your leader.’
The pump, of course, didn’t respond.
The younger alien was stumped. The older alien said, ‘I’d calm down if I were you.’ But the younger alien ignored the warning and repeated his greeting. Again, there was no response. Shocked and insulted by what he perceived to be the pump’s haughty attitude, he drew his ray gun and said impatiently, ‘Greetings, Earthling. We come in peace. Do not ignore us this way! Take us to your leader or I will fire!’ The older alien again warned his comrade saying, ‘You probably don’t want to do that! I really don’t think you should make him mad.’
‘Rubbish,’ replied the cocky, young alien. He aimed his weapon at the pump and opened fire. There was a huge explosion. A massive fireball roared towards them and blew the younger alien off his feet and deposited him a burnt, smoking mess about 200 yards away in a cactus patch.
Half an hour passed. When he finally regained consciousness, he refocused his three eyes, straightened his bent antenna, and looked dazedly at the older, wiser alien who was standing over him shaking his big, green head.
‘What a ferocious creature!’ exclaimed the young, fried alien. ‘He damn near killed me! How did you know he was so dangerous?’
The older alien leaned over, placed a friendly feeler on his crispy friend and replied,
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my intergalactic travels, you don’t want to mess with a guy who can loop his penis over his shoulder twice and then stick it in his ear.’
🤓👀🤓👀😁😁
A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she laid her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird’s chest.
After a moment or two, the vet shook his head and sadly said, “I’m sorry, your duck, Cuddles, has passed away.”
The distressed woman wailed, “Are you sure?” “Yes, I am sure. Your duck is dead,” replied the vet..
“How can you be so sure?” she protested. “I mean you haven’t done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something.”
The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a black Labrador Retriever. As the duck’s owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked up at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.
The vet patted the dog on the head and took it out of the room. A few minutes later he returned with a cat. The cat jumped on the table and also delicately sniffed the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room.
The vet looked at the woman and said, “I’m sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck.”
The vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman..
The duck’s owner, still in shock, took the bill. “$150!” she cried, “$150 just to tell me my duck is dead!”
The vet shrugged, “I’m sorry. If you had just taken my word for it, the bill would have been $20, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it’s now $150.” 🤣🤣
One day in class the teacher walked to the black board and noticed someone had written the word “penis” in tiny letters. She turned to the class, scanned the boys and girls, looking for the guilty face. Finding none that looked guilty, she quickly erased it and began her class.
The next day she entered the classroom and noticed, in larger letters this time, the word “penis” on the blackboard. Again, she looked around the classroom in vain for the culprit, but found none. And so, the teacher quickly erased it again and proceeded with the day’s lesson.
Every morning, for about a week, she found the same word written on the blackboard, each day, written larger than the previous day.
Finally, one day, she walked into the classroom expecting to be greeted by the same word on the board. Instead, she found scrawled in its place:
“The more you rub it, the bigger it gets.🤣🤣
“I’ve just had the most awful time,” said a boy to his friends. “First I got angina pectoris, then arteriosclerosis. Just as I was recovering, I got psoriasis. They gave me hypodermics, and to top it all, tonsillitis was followed by appendectomy.”
“Wow! How did you pull through?” sympathized his friends.
“I don’t know,” the boy replied. “Toughest spelling test I ever had.”
A man calling home from work said, “Hi honey. This is Daddy. Is mommy near the phone?”
“No, daddy. Shes upstairs in the bedroom with Uncle Paul,” replied the young girl.
After a brief pause, the man said, “But honey you don’t have an Uncle Paul.”
“Oh yes I do,” said the girl. “He’s upstairs in the room with mommy right now.”
There was a brief pause. “Uh ok then I want you to put the phone down run upstairs knock on the door shout to mommy that daddy’s car just pulled up.”
“Ok daddy just a min.”
A few min later the little girl came back to the phone. “I did it daddy.”
“And what happened honey?”
“Well mommy got scared, jumped outta bed naked ran round screamin then tripped on the rug, hit her head on the dresser now she isn’t movin at all!”
“Oh no! What about your Uncle Paul?”
“He jumped outta the back window into the pool. But I guess he didn’t know you took out the water last week to clean it. He hit the bottom of it I think hes dead!”
After a long pause the man said, “Swimming pool? Is this 486-5732?”
The little girl replied, “No I think you have the wrong number.”
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.