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[Copypasta]A long dad joke
An Afghan, an Albanian, an Algerian, an American, an Andorran, an Angolan, an Antiguans, an Argentine, an Armenian, an Australian, an Austrian, an Azerbaijani, a Bahamian, a Bahraini, a Bangladeshi, a Barbadian, a Barbudans, a Batswanan, a Belarusian, a Belgian, a Belizean, a Beninese, a Bhutanese, a Bolivian, a Bosnian, a Brazilian, a Brit, a Bruneian, a Bulgarian, a Burkinabe, a Burmese, a Burundian, a Cambodian, a Cameroonian, a Canadian, a Cape Verdean, a Central African, a Chadian, a Chilean, a Chinese, a Colombian, a Comoran, a Congolese, a Costa Rican, a Croatian, a Cuban, a Cypriot, a Czech, a Dane, a Djibouti, a Dominican, a Dutchman, an East Timorese, an Ecuadorean, an Egyptian, an Emirian, an Equatorial Guinean, an Eritrean, an Estonian, an Ethiopian, a Fijian, a Filipino, a Finn, a Frenchman, a Gabonese, a Gambian, a Georgian, a German, a Ghanaian, a Greek, a Grenadian, a Guatemalan, a Guinea-Bissauan, a Guinean, a Guyanese, a Haitian, a Herzegovinian, a Honduran, a Hungarian, an I-Kiribati, an Icelander, an Indian, an Indonesian, an Iranian, an Iraqi, an Irishman, an Israeli, an Italian, an Ivorian, a Jamaican, a Japanese, a Jordanian, a Kazakhstani, a Kenyan, a Kittian and Nevisian, a Kuwaiti, a Kyrgyz, a Laotian, a Latvian, a Lebanese, a Liberian, a Libyan, a Liechtensteiner, a Lithuanian, a Luxembourger, a Macedonian, a Malagasy, a Malawian, a Malaysian, a Maldivan, a Malian, a Maltese, a Marshallese, a Mauritanian, a Mauritian, a Mexican, a Micronesian, a Moldovan, a Monacan, a Mongolian, a Moroccan, a Mosotho, a Motswana, a Mozambican, a Namibian, a Nauruan, a Nepalese, a New Zealander, a Nicaraguan, a Nigerian, a Nigerien, a North Korean, a Northern Irishman, a Norwegian, an Omani, a Pakistani, a Palauan, a Palestinian, a Panamanian, a Papua New Guinean, a Paraguayan, a Peruvian, a Pole, a Portuguese, a Qatari, a Romanian, a Russian, a Rwandan, a Saint Lucian, a Salvadoran, a Samoan, a San Marinese, a Sao Tomean, a Saudi, a Scottish, a Senegalese, a Serbian, a Seychellois, a Sierra Leonean, a Singaporean, a Slovakian, a Slovenian, a Solomon Islander, a Somali, a South African, a South Korean, a Spaniard, a Sri Lankan, a Sudanese, a Surinamer, a Swazi, a Swede, a Swiss, a Syrian, a Taiwanese, a Tajik, a Tanzanian, a Togolese, a Tongan, a Trinidadian or Tobagonian, a Tunisian, a Turkish, a Tuvaluan, a Ugandan, a Ukrainian, a Uruguayan, a Uzbekistani, a Venezuelan, a Vietnamese, a Welshman, a Yemenite, a Zambian and a Zimbabwean all go to a nightclub...
The doorman stops them and says “Sorry, I can’t let you in without a Thai.”
An Afghan, an Albanian, an Algerian, an American, an Andorran, an Angolan, an Antiguans, an Argentine, an Armenian, an Australian, an Austrian, an Azerbaijani, a Bahamian, a Bahraini, a Bangladeshi, a Barbadian, a Barbudans, a Batswanan, a Belarusian, a Belgian, a Belizean, a Beninese, a Bhutanese, a Bolivian, a Bosnian, a Brazilian, a Brit, a Bruneian, a Bulgarian, a Burkinabe, a Burmese, a Burundian, a Cambodian, a Cameroonian, a Canadian, a Cape Verdean, a Central African, a Chadian, a Chilean, a Chinese, a Colombian, a Comoran, a Congolese, a Costa Rican, a Croatian, a Cuban, a Cypriot, a Czech, a Dane, a Djibouti, a Dominican, a Dutchman, an East Timorese, an Ecuadorean, an Egyptian, an Emirian, an Equatorial Guinean, an Eritrean, an Estonian, an Ethiopian, a Fijian, a Filipino, a Finn, a Frenchman, a Gabonese, a Gambian, a Georgian, a German, a Ghanaian, a Greek, a Grenadian, a Guatemalan, a Guinea-Bissauan, a Guinean, a Guyanese, a Haitian, a Herzegovinian, a Honduran, a Hungarian, an I-Kiribati, an Icelander, an Indian, an Indonesian, an Iranian, an Iraqi, an Irishman, an Israeli, an Italian, an Ivorian, a Jamaican, a Japanese, a Jordanian, a Kazakhstani, a Kenyan, a Kittian and Nevisian, a Kuwaiti, a Kyrgyz, a Laotian, a Latvian, a Lebanese, a Liberian, a Libyan, a Liechtensteiner, a Lithuanian, a Luxembourger, a Macedonian, a Malagasy, a Malawian, a Malaysian, a Maldivan, a Malian, a Maltese, a Marshallese, a Mauritanian, a Mauritian, a Mexican, a Micronesian, a Moldovan, a Monacan, a Mongolian, a Moroccan, a Mosotho, a Motswana, a Mozambican, a Namibian, a Nauruan, a Nepalese, a New Zealander, a Nicaraguan, a Nigerian, a Nigerien, a North Korean, a Northern Irishman, a Norwegian, an Omani, a Pakistani, a Palauan, a Palestinian, a Panamanian, a Papua New Guinean, a Paraguayan, a Peruvian, a Pole, a Portuguese, a Qatari, a Romanian, a Russian, a Rwandan, a Saint Lucian, a Salvadoran, a Samoan, a San Marinese, a Sao Tomean, a Saudi, a Scottish, a Senegalese, a Serbian, a Seychellois, a Sierra Leonean, a Singaporean, a Slovakian, a Slovenian, a Solomon Islander, a Somali, a South African, a South Korean, a Spaniard, a Sri Lankan, a Sudanese, a Surinamer, a Swazi, a Swede, a Swiss, a Syrian, a Taiwanese, a Tajik, a Tanzanian, a Togolese, a Tongan, a Trinidadian or Tobagonian, a Tunisian, a Turkish, a Tuvaluan, a Ugandan, a Ukrainian, a Uruguayan, a Uzbekistani, a Venezuelan, a Vietnamese, a Welshman, a Yemenite, a Zambian and a Zimbabwean all go to a nightclub...
The doorman stops them and says “Sorry, I can’t let you in without a Thai.”
I used to be a real ad
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Infinite Cum Part 3
Your release had increased so much that they could no longer contain you. Your cum has consumed the entirety of the cosmos. Humanity is without a shred of doubt, gone.
You are alone in the universe.
If there were aliens, they are dead now.
It’s over.
In despair, you mourn the death of the scientists, of humanity, of everyone. You realize you'll never hear her sweet and calming voice, see her proud body.
Your sad. Your terrified. Chronicles pass. The last stars in the universe eclipse. You silently watch as the last atoms break into protons, into quarks, into mere beams of weak energy that disperse along the vertical ropes. But the ropes no longer play their docile music. They have gonne silent.
You watch, helplessly, as the Last mozon is engulfed into the ever expanding plane of Cum. Your own creation destroys the very own universe, defying the own plan of existence.
You are alone.
You scream, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You cry, but nothing descends from your eyes. Do you even have eyes? All you can see is the torrid Instotucional white across the whole of the Universe. Entire Gans eclipse before your eyes, but then you realize the horror: The Cum turned against you.
With nothing more to consume, your sons turned against their father, and begin to consume you. You tremble. There's nothing to do. The huge weight impacts you like if whole planets fell onto your shoulders. Your alone. In your last moments, a odd sentiment of peace invades you for the first time since the early days of the universe. It's finally gonna end. You think about all the people that you've met during your stay in this universe. In the end, you think about the researcher. About her arms. Her breasts. You feel... good. For the first time in many hipereons. You jack off it.
It's so.... good, you come at the right time, freeing the constrained cum from your menber. You open your eyes, and behold the bathroom door.
You are Ok. You remember everything. It's all over.
You exit the bathroom after jacking off again, going back to your old life.
The cum stops.
Your release had increased so much that they could no longer contain you. Your cum has consumed the entirety of the cosmos. Humanity is without a shred of doubt, gone.
You are alone in the universe.
If there were aliens, they are dead now.
It’s over.
In despair, you mourn the death of the scientists, of humanity, of everyone. You realize you'll never hear her sweet and calming voice, see her proud body.
Your sad. Your terrified. Chronicles pass. The last stars in the universe eclipse. You silently watch as the last atoms break into protons, into quarks, into mere beams of weak energy that disperse along the vertical ropes. But the ropes no longer play their docile music. They have gonne silent.
You watch, helplessly, as the Last mozon is engulfed into the ever expanding plane of Cum. Your own creation destroys the very own universe, defying the own plan of existence.
You are alone.
You scream, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You cry, but nothing descends from your eyes. Do you even have eyes? All you can see is the torrid Instotucional white across the whole of the Universe. Entire Gans eclipse before your eyes, but then you realize the horror: The Cum turned against you.
With nothing more to consume, your sons turned against their father, and begin to consume you. You tremble. There's nothing to do. The huge weight impacts you like if whole planets fell onto your shoulders. Your alone. In your last moments, a odd sentiment of peace invades you for the first time since the early days of the universe. It's finally gonna end. You think about all the people that you've met during your stay in this universe. In the end, you think about the researcher. About her arms. Her breasts. You feel... good. For the first time in many hipereons. You jack off it.
It's so.... good, you come at the right time, freeing the constrained cum from your menber. You open your eyes, and behold the bathroom door.
You are Ok. You remember everything. It's all over.
You exit the bathroom after jacking off again, going back to your old life.
The cum stops.
Why is six afraid of seven? Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam
Why is six afraid of seven?
Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.
Why is six afraid of seven?
Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.