A trucker picks up a hitchhiker who climbs up in the cab and notices a monkey on the dashboard.
After a few miles he asks the driver what the monkey is for.
The driver says "I'll show you" and with that he hits the monkey with the back of his hand, sending the poor creature rolling across the dash.
The monkey goes down between the drivers legs, unzips his pants, pulls out his unit and proceeds to give the trucker head.
When finished ,the monkey pulls out a tissue, cleans the driver up, puts everything back and jumps back up on the dashboard.
"See that" said the trucker. The man said "Yeah". The trucker ask the man "You want to try it?"
The man said "OK, but don't hit me as hard as you hit that monkey!"
Anything and everthing.
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8 comments:
Does the monkey get jealous?
The deviant monkey is probably plotting the trucker's demise, and planning to run away with the hitchhiker. Quite possibly to New York, in search of big apples.
badger, there's a guy on our blog requesting jokes, i referred him to you.
just curious, do you know willow in real life ?
Jt, he should find a few here that will either amuse or disgust, depending on one's sense of humor.
A few years back, during one of my wild and reckless periods, and in willow's law enforcement days, we crossed paths a few times. Willow carries a small scar incurred during a street skirmish, where we traded a few shots, and still carries a bit of a grudge.
Unfortunately, I can't go into specifics.
We are no longer enemies, nor are we friends. Merely antagonists. I only say this because Willow no longer blogs, due to poor vision, and I believe, an assortment of serious mental problems.
Which reminds me. I haven't left a comment in a few days.
I knew by the stench in the air that Badgerbob had made another foul accusation.
I have never, I will never, and I have no desire to EVER meet, in any personal way, that stinkin' badger from hell. I have had the misfortune to live in an area that attracted vermin like the badger; who decided to camp out in my trash can every night, and poop on my backdeck every day. A badger's badge of thanks, I assume.
To cut a long, and nightmarish, story short. I bought a gun and left some trails through his matted fur, but those badgers have hide toughter than a rhino, and the bullets wouldn't penetrate his leathery butt.
Then I tried to burn the badger out with fire - in the trashcan - but the badger would just dance naked in front of the flames; leaving the smell of singed fur permeating the night air and making it a night full of vomiting for me.
I moved. He followed me. I moved. He followed me. And let me tell you a rancid-smelling, fart-making, burp-loving, badger is not a fun stalker.
So, does anybody want a room mate!
Willow, I had heard that your typing foot was broken???
How odd, that in my first mention of you in months, you immediately show up to antagonize me. You're such a lurky-loo.
And what's up with all of the dead chickens in the trash can lately?
How about a steak for a change?
Or are you still doing those voodoo rituals, and sacrificing those poor live chickens?
Maybe I should call Pam and get a PETA team in there to start an investigation.
Actually Badger, you've been on my blog leaving insults - again; and I thought I'd take a looky-loo, not a lurky-loo, and see what shit you're stirring up this time.
A pox on your ugly mug!!!
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