The Facebook, It Lives

Now that I've moved into trying to push my word-meshes under the nose and for the eyes of various digital and print publishers, there exists a page where my progress will be charted for ages to come.

https://www.facebook.com/BrentDanleyJonesWriter

From there, updates will be posted irregularly with good news.

Salutations!

Flash Fiction: Belfry, 2090

BELFRY, 2090

by Brent Danley Jones

 BRIDGES & BELFRIES

by Brent Danley Jones

        "It was a roll of the dice from the start, wasn't it?" said Erina, exasperated and sucking in the cold air that stings your lungs when it’s from so high in the sky. Her black body suit kept her core temperature regulated, though at times she liked to feel the brisk chill again.

        "Observant as ever," Leif commented calmly as he coiled rope. His huge hands made it look like thread. “You knew it from the start. Pay that good comes with a catch. But now this is taking way too long, and I’m getting a twinge fearful we’re in over our heads here. The bridges may shift before we get this oxy-tech prototype back down.” He took the length of silk hemp and stored in back in the many folds of his green and brown robes hiding metallic storage bins beneath.

        " ’Fraid’a heights?”

        “Shut your pretty mouth,” Leif snapped back in a low voice.

        “So, that’s a ‘yes’.” Erina figured out by now he wasn’t the kind of merc that relieved stress by having a laugh. What a bore. "I know, suck at gambling, but I'm a sucker for taking chances. Besides, worst that happens is they catch us, ban our gen-sequence, and erase our existence from the Sphere. No biggie," she said wearing a relentless grin.

        She disappeared below the bridge, slashed a bundled wirepack hidden beneath the walkway connecting the next belfry, and rolled back on the stone.

        Ducking in the doorway, Leif praised her in his head but not out loud; such deft, seamless movement was a deadly effective feature for a merc, though she still had a lot of punch in her as well. Leif could tell Erina was much more serious about the job than her exterior would lead on. He felt an itch crawl up the old rash on his back. The plan he had in mind might be more of a gamble than lifting the prototype proved to be.

        After a brief pause, they peered out and watched the glow from another storm sentinel fade. The bluish tint in its crafted eye sockets grew grey and hollow as it slumped, still standing upright.

        "And who even uses electric-based guard sentinels anymore? It’s outdated. And tacky,” Erina teased the dead rock sentry. The duo huddled low and made their way across. She could taste the precipitation in the clouds. Erina clawed open the back of the sentinel, carefully cutting out scrap and pocketing it for resale. Leif checked the dynamic prints. Still another 200 gridblocks to go. Problem was, structures in the Netherlands developed a tendency for changing shape on you. Organic architecture was received like the rapture among the builders, but made breaking and entering even harder than before.

        Leif looked out from the terrace, scanning for the next tower in the spider web maze of belfries and bridges. He focused on each peak, using the GUI in his eyes in attempt to discern which had the televator they needed to descend. “No clear sign, little lady. Gonna have to keep navigating and hope the bridges don’t shift.” He signaled the all clear, and the two crouched, staying low, striding across quietly so as not to be detected from below. He sighed when his eagle eyes picked up the signature of another storm sentinel along the next causeway.

        He sighed, indicating his exhaustion outstripped his worry. "It just makes a mess, it does. Has to be the twelfth one we're gonna knock out. Wires. I guess no matter how secure the location, not everyone can afford the lodestones for power. Even more so when they don't know what they really have."

        "Maybe we're in the wrong business, and we should be harvesting the sparker gadgets of these lugs. Sell 'em back to whoever still makes them." Erina executed what was now a practiced routine of hooking off the bridge with her claws and slashing a wired core beneath.

        Safely through the doorway of the belfry, Leif guessed there would be another six towers before arriving at the center spire, lost in the web of bridges suspended by towering peaks in the sky. Leif kept one eye on the schematics and another looking for any avi-bots making overhead scans and a third inner eye on Erina. She seemed to be enjoying herself, taking micro-pics of the stonework and the masonry as they ascended endless stairs. Nevermind that chance of getting erased being one capture away.

        "Oh, Leify, look'it that one! It looks like a star made out of butts."

        "Quit'cher ass-hattery and keep your head in the game. We have to find which tower will lead us closer to the Outgrounds before Stillion's other mechanical minions hone in on our locale," Leif said in between light wheezes from non-stop movement. "I still I can't see why we've gotten this far without better resistance."

        "You may be underestimating what we can do now that we've... enhanced ourselves a bit."

        "Yeah, but I ain’t takin’ no chances. I’m not like you.”    "Whatever you say, big boy! Ooh, look at that! Stained glass griffons, almost as good as the original even when replicated." It was quiet enough to hear the faint click of the micro-pic cam as Erina stored the images. “I can’t believe the one that made this structure and got all those scholarly prizes was also the same asshole trying to steal the air from the sky.”

        “Doesn’t matter, someone else will pay us more to steal his shit than he would to protect it. I don’t really care what they do with this oxy-whatever tech,” Leif patted his side pocket, even though he knew the prototype wasn’t in there. Erina had a fair share of new tech on her, and in her. He had since discerned lie detection wasn’t one of the new additions.

        "Right, you know, sometimes I still wonder if we’re the good guys or the basen--" BOOM. A thud through the wall knocked the whole of the belfry two inches to the left, and a bloodbank automaton came in from the open air. A wall crawler left unchecked.

        "I knew this couldn't go well forever," Erina lost the playful charm in her voice, sounding as old as Leif looked now.

        "Hm. Deal with it. You don’t have any blood in you now. It can’t do anything but pierce your skin and suck out gel.”

        "Ha, guess you're right," she said, then jumped claws bared into the path of the advancing bot, aiming for legs. "Now, get ready to knock out the integrity board’s connection to the powercell, that should shut him up, and we can strip it after. We really should’ve go into the scrap business!"

        She scratched one leg to open the machine at a weaker point, metal nails shredding the gears of the bloodbank sentry, the sound echoing off the towers with a sharp pitch, but not before a stony limb hit its mark right in her side, leaving dozens of tiny needle cones piercing her armor and digging into her flesh, sending her sprawling against the opposite wall of the belfry.

        "Crap, ahh… guh. This not having blood thing means this won't hurt as bad, huh Leif?" She felt a bit faint, curious, since it could draw out the gel in her skin, though that shouldn’t affect her.

          She turned to check if Leif was ready to move up and get inside the stone brute now that his gearing was exposed. All she saw behind her was the end of a silk rope dangling from an archway, blowing in the breeze.

The Funniest Jokes

Knee-slappers? More like face-slappers.
Please enjoy the immense pain derived from the tragedy of these amazing jokes.
These were gathered into an anthology of groaning from the darkest corners of the internet. Haha jokes , funny jokes , oh man , someone please throw cold water on me.



What does an angry jalapeno do?
Gets jalapeno face!


What do you call an alligator in a vest?
An investigator!


Why does the little mermaid wear seashells?
Because A shells and B shells were too small!


What did the sea cucumber say to the mollusk?

With fronds like this who needs anemones?


What do you call a fish with no eyes?
A fsh!

What do you call a dictionary of drugs?Addictionary.



How do you know Indians were the first people in America?
Because they have reservations!


Why wouldn't the shrimp share his treasure?
Because he was a little shellfish!


What did the Buddhist say to the hot dog vendor?
Make me one with everything!


What does a vegan zombie eat?
 Graaaaaaainss!


Where did George Washington keep his armies?
In his sleevies!


What was Beethoven's favorite fruit?
BA-NA-NAAAAAA


What is a pony with a cough?
A little hoarse!


A magician was driving down the road...
... then he turned into a driveway!


Why is there no gambling in Africa?
Too many cheetahs!


Why are all the frogs around here dead?
Because they keep croaking!


Why did the cowboy adopt a wiener dog?
He wanted to get a long little doggy!


Have you heard about the corduroy pillow?
It's making headlines!


What do you call a psychic midget who escaped from prison?
A small medium at large!


BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!

A dog walks into a telegraph office, puts $1 on the counter and says:
"Woof woof woof, woof woof, woof woof woof woof"

The operator says to the dog "Its $1 for 10 words, shall I put another woof on there?"
The dog then says "But that wouldn't make any sense!"

+++

Studies show that six out of seven dwarves aren't happy.
The same study also said 6 of the 7 seven dwarves aren't grumpy either.


+++


TRY THIS

How does it change many dyslexics to take a lightbulb?

...Now try reading that sentence out loud. Getcha? Got me!

+++

1 1 was a racehorse,
1 2 was 1 2.
When 1 1 1 1 race
1 2 1 1 2.

And finally...

Steven Spielberg was discussing his new project - an action docudrama about famous composers starring top movie stars. Sylvester Stallone, Steven Segall, Bruce Willis, and Arnold Schwarzenegger were all present. Spielberg strongly desired the box office 'oomph' of these superstars, so he was prepared to allow them to select whatever composers they wished to  portray, as long as they were famous. 

"Well," started Stallone, "I've always admired Mozart. I would love to play him." 

"Chopin has always been my favorite, and my image would improve if people saw me playing the piano," replied Willis. "I'll play him." 

"I've always been partial to Strauss and his waltzes," said Segall. "I'd like to play him."

Spielberg was very pleased with these choices. "Sounds splendid."
Then, turning to Schwarzenegger, he asked, "Who do you want to be, Arnold?"  Arnold in a slow deliberate voice replied, "I'll be Bach."

POEMS WITH LONG TITLES THAT IN ACTUALITY ARE RATHER SHORT AND SAY VERY LITTLE

MUCH TO MY CHAGRIN I HAVE BEEN RENDERED UNABLE TO PROCEED WITH ROUTINE MORNING RITUALS TO BEGIN MY DAY DUE TO UNFORESEEN FACTORS OF A MOST FRUSTRATING NATURE

the oatmeal

sweet singing peaches

alas

still too hot to eat

OF OBSERVING SMALL PLEASURES IN LIFE FOR THOSE WHOM THOSE PLEASURES MOST LIKELY CONSTITUTE A SIGNIFICANT PORTION OF WHAT THEY WOULD TERM AS LIFE ITSELF

the janitor lady cleaned things

while eating an orange popsicle

 

IN RECALLING THE DAYS OF YOUTH IN THE SUMMER OF MY FAIR CONTENT IT BECOMES APPARENT WHAT ONCE BROUGHT ME IMMEASURABLE GLEE IS NOW BUT A TRIFLE OF PITIFUL PUNNERY ALTHOUGH SOMETHING IN ME STILL GUFFAWS

show me your pikachu

or I'll take a peek-at'you

BEREFT OF SATISFACTORY REASON AT TIMES I DO FIND MY EMOTIONS SPIRALING IN A TORRENT AT THE CAUSE OF AN UNKOWN STORM AS THE EBB AND FLOW OF WORRY ENCOMPASS MY PERSON ENTIRELY

sometimes

i don't know why

i just feel sad

WHILST RELIEVING MYSELF OF A LARGE AMOUNT OF PROCESSED LIQUIDS THAT HAD EXPIRED IN USE FROM MY BODY I OBSERVED THE NEIGHBORING STALL TO BE OCCUPIED AND FOUND THE STRENGTH TO RESIST TEMPTATION OF ALLOWING IMMATURITY TO HALT THE PRESENT PROGRESS

whatever you do

don't cross swords

I WALKED BRISKLY THROUGH THE MORNING CALM AND FOUND MY SPIRIT TO ALIGN WITH MY MIND IN A BEAUTIFUL HARMONY BROUGHT ON MERELY BY THE RICHLY NOTED FRAGRANCE AND TEMPERAMENT OF THE AIR

around nine-o'clock in the a.m.

in april, it really smells like oregon

ALTHOUGH ACTIVISM IS NOT WHERE I GENERALLY SET MY SITES FOR DAILY PROCEEDINGS I COULD NOT HELP BUT BE SWEPT UP IN A CLANGOR OF WONDROUS NATURE UPON THE CAPITAL STEPS AS CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS YELLED

if i could be

king for a day

i'd make rainbow the national color

and chase all the crows away

HOW ABOUT MY MOTIVATION MAKES A FORLORN ATTEMPT AT FINDING ME INSTEAD OF ALWAYS FORCING MY SEEKING OF IT THEREBY GIVING THE WILL TO BE MOTIVATED IN THE FIRST PLACE TO SOLVE ALL MY PROBLEMS

yeah, I'll take a number 4, a large orange juice

and a small side of what the hell is wrong with me

WALKING ALONG THE PAVED ROADS WHEN THE HOUR OF THE NIGHT CREEPS ALONG SLOWLY AND THERE ARE NO CARS ONLY FOG AND STRANGE SENSATIONS OF FORGOTTEN FREEDOM SPUR ME TO UNCOMMON ACTS

gonna j-walk the haters away

lie in the street and make an invisible snow angel

with no snow because it's that kind of night

WHEN I WOKE THAT MORN I WAS SURPRISED AT WHOM MY BED PARTNER TURNED OUT TO BE AND UNEXPECTED PHRASES UTTERED BY THE PERSON IN QUESTION CAUSE ME GREAT CONFUSION

no,

it's okay,

the hickey will blend in

with my horrible skin

I'm just tired of dating bisexuals

REFLECTING ON MY TIME SPENT AS A YOUTH IN THE FIELDS OUTSIDE OF THE TOWN I CALL MY HOME LEAVES ME AT ONCE WITH BOTH A SENSE OF NOSTALGIA AND WORRY AS I SEEK TO TERMINALIZE THE IMPACT OF MY LIFE

I spent so much of my childhood chasing dragonflies

and I still like chasing dragonflies

OFTEN I FIND MY MIND WANDERS WHILST REFUSING ATTENTIVE PARTICIPATION IN LECTURE BASED SCIENCE CURRICULUMS AND I SEEK TO PERVERSE THE INFORMATION BEING TOLD TO THE MASSES WITH MY OWN ORIGINAL INTERPRETATIONS ONE MIGHT DEEM CREATIVE

sometimes I think I am

odorless, colorless, and tasteless

and I'll never change

I guess that makes me... noble

ONCE WHEN I WAS BUT A BABE AND KNEW NOT THE WAYS OF THE WORLD AND THE CREATURES THAT POPULATE WITHIN IT I BELIEVED ONE INSECT IN PARTICULAR WENT ABOUT ITS INSIGNIFICANT LIFE SPAN WITH ONLY THE DESIRE TO CAUSE MILD DISCOMFORT

itchy itchy

a mosquito bit me

Thoughts About Thinking

THOUGHTS about THINKING

I'm starting to worry I'm going to lose my mind.
No, not in the going crazy kind of way.
Actually, far from it, I'm worried I'm going to be too sane.

Now, it could very much be influenced by my surroundings, situation, and being in Japan.
But it seems like no one around me talks about anything.
And I hold out hope that maybe, just maybe, they're thinking of things, but I'm worried.
When I was in a cubicle in America, it was not much different.
Talk is over the new artisan cake shop, something a famous person they never met said, gross general statements about people and casually categorizing words (their 'beliefs'), and whatever hijinks their cat got into last night.
Or they just talk about work.
Or no one talks at all.
And again, maybe in their personal world of thoughts there is something more bumping around. Co-workers are, on a whole, only one step above acquaintance. But even among friends the conversation usually stays around people and events, and rarely strays to ideas or thoughts.
Though most seem closed off anyway, already knowing how they think about something, decided in what they like, making them either extremely present, way back in the past, or far off in an unknown future.
.
.
I have lunch with a group of teachers everyday.
So on one afternoon while they were talking about the latest album release from one of the most over-produced supergroups, I was trying to work out in my head the rates of domestic agriculture production in Japan versus the agriculture industry of exports in China, making best estimates from what I know of either economy, factoring in shipping, then attempting to decide how high import tariffs would need to be to keep markets level in competition.

The next day, they were talking about course prices of a restaurant they wanted to go to, and if 7000yen was worth the amount of food they would get, going back and forth over who drinks how much and whose diet wouldn't make it worth the bill, but how good the food was. I was busy being quiet, trying to determine the extent of the effect that love can motivate actions, with the variables of how much "love" is present and how susceptible a person can be to love. How much love would one who is cold and solitary need to have to willingly leave their job to be with that other person? Inversely, how much would someone with a predisposition towards being in love need to feel to do the same?
The next next day, they were talking about the changes in the schedule for the day, and I was trying to think of every fish I could name.

To be clear, I'm not trying to find some greater answer--'love' is not a quantifiable thing, but if it was, how would you count it? I'm just using my observations and understandings to think of things. Thinking is a hobby. Right now, I'm thinking of how uncommon that hobby seems to become as life settles around you with age, and some of these people aren't even 30.

I usually don't have a lot to contribute, but I'm still listening and understanding the whole time (even in a second language) and make comments where I can. When they run out of things to say, sometimes one of the teachers will ask me what I've been doing, and I tell them about my recent attempts to submit short fiction to sci-fi anthologies, or a escapade into Tokyo to see a rock group no one at the table has ever heard of. Their reaction is always followed with astonishment. I entertain the thought they could be flattering me, but the surprise comes across as pretty genuine, followed by "wakai ne!" (you're still a young dude!).

Other times, I tell them "not much" or "sleeping" because I know they're only asking out of boredom and will switch topics as soon as another thought in the group comes up.
There have been a few times they've even asked what I'm thinking. That gets a really surprised reaction, when I say something like "I'm thinking about whether lakes form differently by their altitude being above or below sea level". (If you speak Japanese, have some vocab! sea level: 'kaimen', above sea level: 'kaibatsu', below sea level: 'kaimenka', and good luck finding a place to use it, laughing out loud)

Am I just more honest and forthcoming with what I'm saying? Could be. I know there is a group dynamic here--that people in a group want to talk about safe, surface subjects that anyone can go along with (though those can often be reverse-alienating if you are not interested in the bland waters of the mainstream) and I know what I think of seems further out there, but the chances to talk with only 1 or 2 other people grow fewer as folks just get too busy, and groups become the main. I'm worried. I'm not saying these people don't think; they are active, adaptive, strong-willed teachers who work with teenagers every day, and if anything are more youthful for it. I worked a number of different jobs when I was back in the States with all kinds of folks, and don't find country of origin to make much difference with personal interactions. I'm aware that Japan is more secluded, sharing less than other societies, but these people are friends who work together, going out drinking with each other, and act and speak like any other groups I've been in.
.
.
I'LL PULL THIS ALL BACK TO SUMMARY: all in all, it's not them I'm worried about--it's me.
I'm worried I'll stop thinking.
I like the part of me that still questions, wonders, asks why and then tries to form answers. It's given me powers of judgment and compassion as a result, an overall wisdom I pride myself on. As years go on, however, the sort of wide-eyed conversation and consideration for life, how to live it, and all things in it continues to decrease in frequency and length. No one wants to talk much, unless it's a heated political issue that calls some preset value they have into question. No one wants to examine things for the sake of seeing what more there is too them, or think of the abstract for the sake of thinking. The trend is more towards whatever is right in front of them making them busy, or whatever will make them feel relaxed to do after. And I'm worried the more I'm continuing with people around in this universal trend, the more I'll keep slipping in with it. Will I be the guy to point out the new artisan cake shop? Will I buy a TV just to see what everyone else is talking about? The age of social media and anything "viral" throws so much in front of us, but is more thinking the result, or just more passive reception to be counted like items on a list later.
"Did you see _____?"
"Yes, I did."
"Okay."
Even if there is a 'what did you think' to follow, it usually doesn't go on for more than a sentence of two, because the other side is not really asking to engage the idea, more often than not it's just to see if you share the same perspective, so then you get that little spark of connection-communication, and you can move on with the day.

I want to continue living an observed life, where everything can be turned into a chance to think, reason, and understand. It's that form of brain-tinkering that brought me into the person I am now, that's pushed me to live a more challenging life, and do things no one else has done, for the experience and to see what comes next. I want to keep thinking, thinking as an active mode of operation, not just an occasional necessity. And I'm wondering how I'm going to do that when a lot of the dialog around me doesn't come out as conducive and lulls me into slogging along in the daily grind, where a day can go by without a thought.

I've recently returned to trying to memorize song lyrics just to give my mental-bits something to do. I've been writing more, revising too, and am trying to internalize the thinking process to make it less dependent on outside factors, though those have always been the ones I've enjoyed, trying to gain another perspective and hear things said in a different way.

I'm assuming only about 3 and a half people have the attention span / care enough to have read this far, but I wonder if there are others out there who feel the same? Wanna be thought-based pen-pals? I don't want to misplace the communication connection of thinking, as another good-brain perspective always opens up as much new territory as a new dimension.

Where I am, job-wise and by way of country, is temporary. Within about a year I'll be looking for a new place to start a new chapter of life, and that will come with all kinds of exciting challenges and frustrating struggles, though there's no way I can know what they'll be. And I think the best thing I can do to prepare for them is to keep thinking, keep my mind sharp, and not let myself go too sane. After all, I don't want to lose my mind.

Green Demon & Purple Demon

[Japan has a moral education fairy tale, called "Red Demon and Blue Demon", wherein blue demon follows the advice of red demon to make friends with village children, which leads to red demon leaving forever so he won't scare the kids. It is a dumb story, and it also is a very poor moral story, as it seems to dissuade students from communicating with their friends. So, I rewrote the story (to a higher level of English, but) with a better ending, supporting the value of friendship, and the two demons become radical rockstars.]

GREEN DEMON & PURPLE DEMON

by Brent Danley Jones

            Once upon a time Green Demon lived in the city of Shimokitazawa. Green Demon wanted to be a famous rockstar drummer. So he put a board in front of his live house. He wrote the words, `I`m a radical drummer! Please come and listen!` But everyone was afraid of him so no one came in, because he was a scary demon and his ticket price was too high. He felt angry and finally took the board away.

             One day, Purple Demon came to Green Demon`s house. He said, `Do you really want to be a famous drummer?` Green Demon said, `Yes, I do!` Purple Demon agreed with him and said, `Okay, you need to start a band. I am a great guitarist. Together, we will be the Toxic Brothers!` Green Demon liked Purple Demon`s idea and said, `That`s a great idea! We may have an awesome time!` Then they went down to the village station to perform a street live.

             Lots of people were at the station. Suddenly, Green Demon and Purple Demon came. They shouted, `We are the Toxic Brothers! We`ll rock your world!` The people were excited and shouted, `Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!` with their hands in the air. Then, Green Demon sang: `When you`re lost, and you don`t know what to do, listen to your demon heart, and let the music guide you!` Green Demon hit the drums like crazy and Purple Demon played like his hands were on fire. Everyone shouted, `Yaaaaaaaay!`

The people cheered, `Thank you for your awesome performance! You are radical dudes. We want to go to your live house.` Green Demon`s live house became very popular and the Toxic Brothers were the most famous band in the local indie scene.

A few years later, Green Demon went to Purple Demon`s apartment to thank him. Green Demon found a letter on the door:

`Hey Green Demon,

I`m glad you are a famous rockstar now. I want to play with you again, but I need to become a more powerful guitarist. I will go far away into the mountains to practice with the Guitar God and find myself. I will always be your friend.

Rock on,

Purple Demon.

Green Demon couldn`t believe it. He made a new band called The Purple Hearts and they also became very famous. Green Demon never forgot the power of music thanks to Purple Demon.

A few years later, Green Demon still did not forget about his long lost friend. He wanted to tell Purple Demon that he didn`t need to be better, because he was already a very powerful guitarist that had all the Toxic Brothers needed to be a radical band. Green Demon decided to follow Purple Demon into the mountains to tell him that the power of music was more important to him than how well someone can play guitar.

When Green Demon got to the top of the mountain, he was amazed by what he saw. Purple Demon was playing guitar… in a big rock battle with the Guitar God! Purple Demon was having a hard time. Green Demon wanted to help. He quickly made a drumset from sticks, stones, and a mountain goat. He played like crazy, supporting Purple Demon. Because they had always been best friends, they matched each other perfectly and played and played and kept playing with awesome power until the Guitar God exploded in a brilliant pyrotechnics display. It was the greatest song in the world, even though no one was there to see it but the two demons.

`We did it! We did it!` Purple Demon said. He was so happy that he jumped up and down. But Green Demon went over and hit him! `Ow! Why would you do that?`

`What a fool you are! You could have been killed by the Guitar God`s groovy high voltage music. I know you wanted to be stronger, but you should have told me, your best friend, about your plans. I could have come to practice here with you. You taught me the power of music, but also you taught me the power of friendship. If there is anything more important than music, it is believing in your friends!`

Purple Demon was crying. He said `You’re right, music is radical, but playing music with your friends is the most awesome.`

`Right on dude!`

Green Demon and Purple Demon went back down the mountain and started a new band, DEMON800, and played a lot of radical music as friends forever and ever.

Anti-Humor Jokes & Post-Modern Internet Rose Poems

JOKES:

Q. What did the Farmer say when he lost his Tractor?

…

A. "Where the hell is my Tractor?"

Q. What smells like blue paint but looks like red paint?

…

A. Red paint

Q. What's brown and sticky?

A. a stick.

The little boy walks into a classroom and says "poop-poop-poop, you're poop-poopy pants!".

Teacher says don't say that.

The little boy says "okay, sorry".

    So a guy walks into a bar,

he drinks there every day,

it's slowly destroying his family.

So this guy walks into a bar, orders some food and eats it, shoots the bartender, then leaves like nothing happened.

So another patron of the bar was like "well what the fuck was that?!" and another patron tells him, oh he's a panda bear, he eats shoots and leaves.

Q. If you're paddling upstream in a canoe and a wheel falls off, how many pancakes fit in a doghouse?

A. None! Ice cream doesn't have bones!

POEMS:

Roses are red...

Violets are blue...

In Soviet Russia,

poem writes you

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

This line doesn't rhyme,

And neither does this one

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

I can't get a girl,

But I guess you'll do.

I whistled for a cab,

and when it came near,

the license said fresh,

it had dice in the mirror

Pokeballs are red

Great balls are blue

Just like I chose my charmander

Now I choose you!

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Tulips are pink

And sometimes yellow

Mario is red

Sonic is blue

Will you please be

My Player 2

Roses are red

Violets are blue

All of my base

Are belong to you

Roses are grey

Violets are grey

Everything's grey

I'm a dog

roses are red,

violets are purple

shit

nothing rhymes with purple

roses are red

oranges are orange

fuck

missed here again too