... Nous mo(u)rons.
They dilate
I guess it's HONEY..NUT..CHEERIO..
Because H2O2 is hydrogen peroxide and it’s toxic!!
As he was dying he kept yelling "Be positive!" but it's hard without him.
He was so brave and even tried to encourage us, the family around him, with his last breaths. He kept whispering to us to Be Positive.
With angry irritable bowels.
They dielate
Honey. Nut. Cheerio!!
Billy Jeans
You'll read it's orbit-uary!
Me neither. It's a Miss Terry.
They just get a new Peterbilt
That's me and the coroner.
Die Firma
They still show up for work one last time.
Apparently deep down they are good people.
The friar puts a sign outside that said ‘bell ringer wanted, tryouts Saturday morning’
Saturday morning rolls around, and there were three people lined up out front of the church waiting to try to ring the bell. A tall, muscular man, a skinnier, frail man, and an average sized man.
The friar took them all up one at a time and handed them the hammer to hit the church bells with.
The muscular man grabbed the hammer in one hand, slammed it into the bell, and nearly shattered both with the force behind the swing. The friar said that they’ll have to keep looking.
The frail man could barley pick up the hammer. He swung it pitifully, and managed to ting the bell. The friar just shook his head and chuckled, thanking the man for coming.
The average sized man refused the hammer. Before the friar could question it, the man reared his head back and slammed it into the bell, producing a ring of such pure tone and quality it brought a tear to the friar’s eye. While he was wiping the tear from his face, the man, stumbling from the impact of skull to bell, accidentally tripped and fell off the bell tower to his death.
Well, the townsfolk had heard the beautiful bell, and a small crowd had gathered beneath the bell tower around the man’s body.
Collectively, they said “Who is he Friar? What happened?”
The friar shook his head sadly and said
“I don’t know, but his face rings a bell”
BUT IT ISN’T OVER CAUSE THEY STILL NEED A BELL RINGEE ROUND TWO KIDDOS HERE WE GO!!
So the next morning, when the friar opened the doors in the morning, a man approached him and said “Friar, you don’t know me, but the man who died yesterday was my brother. I’d be honored if you’d let me ring the bell today in his honor.”
The friar nodded and let the new man up the bell tower, handing him the hammer.
With a nightly swing, the man slammed the bell, producing again a high quality ringing tone. Unfortunately, he slipped while off balance and fell off the bell tower too and died.
Again, people were gathered around and they all asked as one “Who is he, Friar, what happened?”
The friar looked at them all in turn and said “I don’t know, but he’s a dead ringer for his brother”
That description nails him to a t
Jerry can
Jim: Did you hear that Reece Whats-her-name died while eating a bowl of soup?
Joe: No way! Witherspoon???
Jim: Yes, of course.
I'm going to have my ashes grown into an ash tree, with a grave stone that reads "he was dying to be grown this way" and in the back it will read "that pun was a grave mistake"
is killing a friend homiecide
Wait until you have a midlife crisis, then double your age.
I was told this joke belongs here
He went out the Windu.
They had a stroke.
You read it in the orbituaries
But sometimes, it’s really hard without her.
I said,"Hell no."
She said,"Forget it then"
"You know, people are just dying to get in there."
The details were a little sketchy.
They are doing CPaRrrrrrrr
The moth drops down into the nearest chair and says “What’s the problem?”
Moth says “I don’t even know where to start. First of all, my boss is a vicious tyrant who gets off on the petty torments he puts me through day in and day out, and I’m too spineless to stand up to him, so I just take it and I’ve gradually come to hate myself for it. Also, every morning I wake up to the same prune-face old crone to whom I pledged my vows so many years ago. I used to love her, but that love has become like some sun-festering beached whale trying to die. We lost our daughter last year to one of the bitterest, coldest winters we’ve ever had to face in this region. Isn’t it funny, doc, how all the prayer circles and charity drives in the world amount to pretty much nothing in the face of that cold, impartial face of winter, that bleak, pounding, harsh fist of a callous environment, carrying on with its machinations without regard to our lives, loves, hopes and dreams? Isn’t that hysterical, Doc? Oh and then there’s my son. Doc, I don’t love him anymore. I don’t know what it is but I look in his eyes and I see that same harried look of gutless cowardice that I see when I stare at my own face in the mirror. If I wasn’t such a coward, Doc, I know I’d be able to scrape together enough pride to grab that cocked and loaded shotgun I keep by the bedside table, and just run amok and put an end to this grim facade once and for all. I start with the wife, then the boy of course before putting the barrell in my own mouth. Believe you me, Doc, I’d be doing the world a favor. I have nothing to look forward to but a continuation of this spiraling black hole that is my life, this existential cesspool that is the perpetuation of my lingering skid-mark on society. I despise people yet I crave their approval. I’m judgemental yet I care about nothing. I’m bitter, hateful and afraid. I’m alive yet I feel like the walking dead. This is it, Doc: I am a living, breathing, disease.”
The doctor stares at him for a while then finally says “Jeez, Moth, you definitely have some problems. But I’m a podiatrist. You need a psychiatrist. Why’d you come in here?”
The moth says,”Your light was on.”
They dilate
Your pupils. They dilate.
They dielate
They dilate.
Honey, nut, Cheerio!
Your pupils - because they die-late!!
Die Firma
🎶 That's me and the coroner 🎶
