Tell Your Best Joke
- Thread starter Stizzla
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IronNoggin
Well-Known Member
IronNoggin
Well-Known Member
Sharphooks
Well-Known Member
The box of coffee filters….
Haverodwilltravel
Active Member
Haverodwilltravel
Active Member
IronNoggin
Well-Known Member
Loghauler
Well-Known Member
They say pit bulls have locking jaws
Chihuahuas don’t they just hang on for dear life once they bite
Dave H
Well-Known Member
When a wealthy rancher passed away, he left his entire estate to his devoted wife. She was smart, strikingly beautiful, and determined to keep the ranch running. There was just one small hitch—she didn’t know a single thing about ranching.
Realizing she needed help, she placed an ad for a ranch hand.
Two cowboys showed up to apply. One was a heavy drinker; the other was openly gay. After much consideration (and a lack of better options), she hired the gay cowboy. Her logic? At least he wouldn’t cause any trouble around the house like the drunk probably would.
Turned out to be the best decision she ever made.
The new ranch hand was hardworking, knowledgeable, and put in long hours. Under his care, the ranch thrived like never before.
One evening, the widow leaned against the barn door and said, “You’ve been incredible. Why don’t you go into town tonight and enjoy yourself?”
The cowboy grinned, tipped his hat, and rode off for a well-earned night out.
Midnight passed. Then one o’clock. Then two.
Finally, at nearly two-thirty, he staggered through the front door—only to find the widow sitting by the fireplace, sipping a glass of wine, waiting for him.
She motioned him closer.
In a low, sultry voice, she said, “Unbutton my blouse.”
Nervously, he obeyed.
“Now take off my boots.”
He knelt down, carefully pulling them off.
“Now my socks.”
His hands trembled as he peeled them away, setting them neatly beside the boots.
“Now my skirt.”
Heart pounding, he unfastened it, letting the fabric slip to the floor.
“Now my bra.”
He hesitated but did as she asked, his breath shallow.
The widow took a slow sip of wine, held his gaze, and purred—
“If you ever wear my clothes into town again… you’re fired.”
Take care.
Realizing she needed help, she placed an ad for a ranch hand.
Two cowboys showed up to apply. One was a heavy drinker; the other was openly gay. After much consideration (and a lack of better options), she hired the gay cowboy. Her logic? At least he wouldn’t cause any trouble around the house like the drunk probably would.
Turned out to be the best decision she ever made.
The new ranch hand was hardworking, knowledgeable, and put in long hours. Under his care, the ranch thrived like never before.
One evening, the widow leaned against the barn door and said, “You’ve been incredible. Why don’t you go into town tonight and enjoy yourself?”
The cowboy grinned, tipped his hat, and rode off for a well-earned night out.
Midnight passed. Then one o’clock. Then two.
Finally, at nearly two-thirty, he staggered through the front door—only to find the widow sitting by the fireplace, sipping a glass of wine, waiting for him.
She motioned him closer.
In a low, sultry voice, she said, “Unbutton my blouse.”
Nervously, he obeyed.
“Now take off my boots.”
He knelt down, carefully pulling them off.
“Now my socks.”
His hands trembled as he peeled them away, setting them neatly beside the boots.
“Now my skirt.”
Heart pounding, he unfastened it, letting the fabric slip to the floor.
“Now my bra.”
He hesitated but did as she asked, his breath shallow.
The widow took a slow sip of wine, held his gaze, and purred—
“If you ever wear my clothes into town again… you’re fired.”
Take care.