Story Jokes / Recent Jokes

A quick narrative. I always wanted a hopped up muscle car when I was younger. I couldn't afford one. Now I can, and I have one. It is a '70 Mustang, and her name is Bessie. Bessie is the prototypical juvenile, male-caveman, scratch your crotch and drink cheap beer car. Chromed engine, dual exhaust, 250 horsepower, big tires, tra la la la.
I'm driving Bessie on Beach Boulevard behind an ancient guy in a beat up truck. He decides to turn in front of me without a blinker. I accelerate to swerve and avoid him, and this assh*le, overaerobicized woman jumps in front of my car with her hand up.
Meet Ethel, the neighborhood busybody/nuisance. She proceeds to yell in my window, "Hey, slow down you %$&#@ idiot." I'm a well-bred, mellow guy by nature, so I ignore this. As I drive away, she yells, "assh*le" at me again. Twice? *&%$# that. I turn around and drive up next to her.
"Do you have a problem?" I ask.
"Yeah, why are you driving like an more...

The following is supposedly a true story. To be included, besides being true, the story is most likely strange, weird, surprising, or funny. February 1, 1993Raleigh, N. C., police charged Vernon Edsel Brooks, 34, with robbing a Radio Shack in July, despite his foresight in disabling a video surveillance camera by taking the camera with him as he fled. Because he forgot to take the recorder to which the camera was connected, police found a tape containing a full facial shot of Brooks reaching for the camera.

Doug was describing a 30-pound bass he'd caught recently, after fighting it for three hours.

Bill interrupted the story saying, "I saw the picture you took of that fish. You're lucky if it even weighed 10 pounds."

Doug replied, "Well, a fish can lose an awful lot of weight during three hours of fighting!"

Two guys were walking in the woods one day, and they all of a sudden came across a bear. The bear noticed them, and started growling and generally getting really mean.The bear started to chase one of the guys, who, as it turns out, was from Czechoslovakia. The bear soon caught up with him, and ate him alive. The other guy turned around and ran for his life.A little while later, the second guy found a park ranger station and told his story. The ranger took his gun, and they both went out in search of the bear, in order to destroy it.Soon, they came across two bears, one male, and one female. The ranger turned to the other guy and said: "Quick... tell me which bear ate your friend!" The ranger levelled his gun and got ready to shoot."I'm not really sure," said the other guy, "they both look similar." "QUICK! Make up your mind!" said the ranger."O.K.," said the other, "it was the male."The ranger promptly aimed and shot the more...

This is a weird but true story (with a moral). .. A complaint was received by the Pontiac Division of General Motors: "This is the second time I have written you, and I don't blame you for not answering me, because I kind of sounded crazy, but it is a fact that we have a tradition in our family of ice cream for dessert after dinner each night. But the kind of ice cream varies so, every night, after we've eaten, the whole family votes on which kind of ice cream we should have and I drive down to the store to get it. It's also a fact that I recently purchased a new Pontiac and since then my trips to the store have created a problem. You see, every time I buy vanilla ice cream, when I start back from the store my car won't start. If I get any other kind of ice cream, the car starts just fine. I want you to know I'm serious about this question, no matter how silly it sounds:' What is there about a Pontiac that makes it not start when I get vanilla ice cream, and easy to start more...

A quick narrative. I always wanted a hopped up muscle car when I was younger. I couldn't afford one. Now I can, and I have one. It's a '70 Mustang, and her name is Bessie. Bessie is the proto-typical juvenile, male-caveman, scratch yourself and drink cheap beer car. Chromed engine, dual exhaust, 250 horsepower, big tires.
I'm driving Bessie on Beach Boulevard behind an ancient guy in a beat up truck. He decides to turn in front of me without a blinker. I accelerate to swerve and avoid him, and this crazy, over aerobicized woman jumps in front of my car with her hand up. Meet Ethel, the neighborhood busybody/nuisance.
She proceeds to yell in my window, "Hey, slow down you idiot." I'm a well-bred, mellow guy by nature, so I ignore this. As I drive away, she yells, "Jerk" at me again. Twice? I turn around and drive up next to her.
"Do you have a problem?" I ask.
"Yeah, why are you driving like an idiot?"
"I was driving like more...

One day, a couple of weeks ago, I was writing in my notebook the lament
"Warm beer and cold women, that's the story of my life."
A rather good looking chick sitting next to me noticed what I had written, and
replied, "That's really sad. I'll help you out. Come with me after class."
Naturally I did, and we went to her room.
It was one of the coldest bottles of Rolling Rock I ever had.