Q: Why did Death cross the road?
A: It was following a chicken whose time was near.
Death walks into a bar and the bartender asks, "What will it be?"
Death says, "I'll have you."
"Me?" says the bartender. "Me? But I'm not a drink."
"That's okay," says Death, "I'm not thirsty."
Death cares not whether
You're young or old
When Death visits you
You'll soon be cold
And stiff
And rotting
And smelly
And not much fun to be with
The only problem with Death is that all of its decisions are final.
No comments:
Post a Comment