Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, he in the upper berth and she in the lower.

At 1:00 AM, the man leaned down and gently woke the woman saying,……….

‘Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket? I’m awfully cold.’

‘I have a better idea,’ she replied ‘Just for tonight,…… let’s pretend that we’re married.’

‘Wow!…………………. That’s a great idea!’, he exclaimed.

‘Good,’ she replied. ………….’Get your own f***ing blanket.’

After a moment of silence, ………………….he farted.

The End

She came to the part of the story where first pig was trying to gather the building materials for his home.

She read. ‘And so the pig went up to the man with the wheelbarrow full of straw and said: ‘Pardon me sir, but may I have some of that straw to build my house?’

The teacher paused then asked the class: ‘And what do you think the man said?’

One little boy raised his hand and said very matter-of-factly…

‘I think the man would have said – ‘I’ll be a son of a bitch!! A talking pig!’

When he got there, Miss Clause was all up in his face and wouldn’t let down. Then, there was a knock on the door. It was Rudolph. He said the reindeer were sick and tired of Santa not upgrading to the new lightweight sleigh and they were joining the elves walkout. Santa slammed the door and threatened “The next person who knocks on that door is gonna get it!”

At that time, there was a knock on the door. Santa flung the door open and there stood a tiny little angel. The angel had been searching for the perfect Christmas tree for Santa’s house all day long, until it found the perfect one. The little angel asked, “Santa, I was wondering where you would like me to stick this tree?”

And that is the story of how the angel atop the tree tradition began

Frank: “Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off.. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge’s table, asking for directions to the Coors Light truck, when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (Native New Mexicans) that the chili wouldn’t be all that spicy; and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted and became Judge #3.”

Here are the scorecard notes from the event:

CHILI # 1 – MIKE’S MANIAC MONSTER CHILI
Judge # 1 — A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge # 2 — Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
Judge # 3 (Frank) — Holy crap, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out. I hope that’s the worst one. These New Mexicans are crazy.

CHILI # 2 – EL RANCHO’S AFTERBURNER CHILI
Judge # 1 — Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang.
Judge # 2 — Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
Judge # 3 — Keep this out of the reach of children. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.

CHILI # 3 – ALFREDO’S FAMOUS BURN DOWN THE BARN CHILI
Judge # 1 — Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick.
Judge # 2 — A bit salty, good use of peppers.
Judge # 3 — Call the EPA. I’ve located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I’m getting sh*t-faced from all of the beer.

CHILI # 4=2 0- BUBBA’S BLACK MAGIC
Judge # 1 — Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
Judge # 2 — Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
Judge # 3 — I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sally, the beer maid, was standing behind me with fresh refills. This 300 lb. Woman is starting to look HOT … Just like this nuclear waste I’m eating! Is chili an aphrodisiac?

CHILI # 5 – LISA’S LEGAL LIP REMOVER
Judge # 1 — Meaty, strong chili. Jalapeno peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
Judge # 2 — Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit the jalapeno peppers make a strong statement.
Judge # 3 — My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted, and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wonder if I’m burning my lips off. It really ticks me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw them.

CHILI # 6 – VARGA’S VERY VEGETARIAN VARIETY
Judge # 1 — Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spices and peppers.
Judge # 2 — The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, garlic. Superb.
Judge # 3 — My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames.. I crapped on myself when I farted, and I’m worried it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that Sally. Can’t feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my butt with a snow cone.

CHILI # 7 – SUSAN’S SCREAMING SENSATION CHILI
Judge # 1 — A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
Judge # 2 — Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. **I should take note that I am worried about Judge #3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably.
Judge # 3 — You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn’t feel a thing. I’ve lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava to match my shirt. At least during the autopsy, they’ll know what killed me. I’ve decided to stop breathing. It’s too painful. Screw it; I’m not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I’ll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.

CHILI # 8 – BIG TOM’S TOENAIL CURLING CHILI
Judge # 1 — The perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili. Not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge # 2 — This final entry is a good, balanced chili. Neither mild nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge #3 farted, passed out, fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself. Not sure if he’s going to make it. Poor fella, wonder how he’d have reacted to really hot chili?
Judge # 3 — No report.

Submitted to Slay.me by Ellae E. – Thanks!

At 8 — You put her to bed and read her a story.

At 18 — You tell her a story and take her to bed.

At 28 — You don’t need to tell her a story to take her to bed.

At 38 — She tells you a story and takes you to bed.

At 48 — She tells you a story to avoid going to bed.

At 58 — You stay in bed to avoid her story.

At 68 — If you take her to bed, that’ll be a story!

At 78 — What story? What bed? Who the hell are you?

Mom at the whorehouse
and dad smoking grass
I’d just settled down
for a nice piece of ass,

When out on the lawn
I heard such a clatter
I sprung from my peice
to see what was the matter,

Then out on the lawn
I saw a big dick
I knew in a moment
it must be St. Nick,

He came down the chimney
like a bat out of hell
I knew in a moment
the fucker had fell,

He filled all our stockings
with pretzels and beer
and a big rubber dick
for my brother,the queer,

He rose up the chimney
with a thunerous fart
the son of a bitch
blew the chimney apart,

He swore and he cursed
as he rode out of sight
Piss on you all
and have a hell of a night!

Baby Bear goes down stairs and sits in his small chair at the table and looks into his small bowl. It is empty, “Who’s been eating my porridge?!!” he squeaks.

Papa Bear arrives at the big table and sits in his big chair. He looks into his big bowl, and it’s also empty. “Who’s been eating my porridge?” he roars.

Momma Bear puts her head through the serving hatch from the kitchen and yells, “Oh for goodness sake, how many times do we have to go through this? It was Momma Bear who got up first. It was Momma Bear who woke everyone in the house. It was Momma Bear who made the coffee. It was Momma Bear who threw in a load of clothes. It was Momma Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last night, and put everything away. It was Momma Bear who went out in the cold morning to fetch the newspaper. It was Momma Bear who set the table. It was Momma Bear who put the cat out, cleaned the litter box, and filled the cat’s water and food dish. And now that you’ve decided to drag your lazy bodies downstairs and grace Momma Bear’s kitchen with your grumpy presence, listen good,cause I’m only going to say this one more time…”

“I Haven’t Made the Porridge Yet!!!!”

Dad says, “Well, son, let me try to explain it this way: I’m the breadwinner of the family, so let’s call me Capitalism. Your Mom, she’s the administrator of the money, so we’ll call her the Government. We’re here to take care of your needs, so we’ll call you the People.

“We’ll consider the nanny as the Working Class,” he went on. And your baby brother, we’ll call him the Future. Now think about that and see if it makes sense.”

So the little boy goes to bed thinking about what dad has said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents’ room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny’s room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed.

The next morning, the little boy says to his father, “Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now.”

The father says, “Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about.”

The little boy replies, “Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored and the Future is in Deep Shit.”