Daily Joke: Jokes Library

A man decided one Friday afternoon that he had worked hard enough for the week and deserved a little reward. Instead of finishing the rest of his shift, he slipped out early and headed straight to his favorite bar. One drink turned into several, and several turned into far too many. He laughed louder as the night went on, bought a few rounds he didn’t need to, and by the time the bartender called last orders at 2 a.m., he was thoroughly and unmistakably drunk.

Stumbling out into the night, he somehow managed to make it home. When he reached his front door, he realized just how late it was and decided he’d better try to sneak in quietly. The last thing he wanted was to wake his wife and have to explain why he smelled like a brewery.

He carefully eased the door open, wincing at every tiny creak. Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and began the slow, delicate process of tiptoeing up the stairs. He clung to the railing, concentrating hard on each step as if he were crossing a tightrope.

About halfway up, disaster struck. His foot slipped, and he toppled backward, landing hard on his backside with a heavy thud that echoed through the stairwell. Normally that would have been painful enough, but unfortunately he had stuffed a couple of empty pint bottles into his back pockets before leaving the bar. When he hit the steps, the bottles shattered.

The broken glass cut into him badly. It sliced through his trousers and carved up his backside in several places. Amazingly, in his drunken state, he barely felt a thing. He lay there for a moment, dazed, then slowly pulled himself up and continued upstairs as if nothing had happened.

Once in the bedroom, he began undressing in the dark. That’s when he noticed something wasn’t quite right. There were spots of blood on his clothing. Squinting at his reflection in the mirror, he turned around to inspect the damage and was shocked to see several nasty cuts. They looked far worse than he’d imagined.

Doing the best he could under the circumstances, he cleaned himself up and carefully applied bandages to the wounded area. It wasn’t easy—especially given his condition—but eventually he managed to stick several band-aids over the cuts. Satisfied with his makeshift medical work, he crawled into bed and passed out almost immediately.

The next morning, reality hit hard. His head was pounding like a drum, and his backside felt like he’d sat on a cactus. He pulled the covers up over himself, trying to piece together the previous night and come up with a believable explanation.

Just then, his wife walked into the bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed.

“Well,” she said coolly, “you really overdid it last night. Where were you?”

He cleared his throat. “I had to work late,” he mumbled. “Stopped for a couple of beers afterward. Nothing major.”

“A couple of beers?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s funny. You were completely plastered. Where did you really go?”

He tried to sound indignant. “What makes you so sure I was drunk?”

She gave him a long look. “Because,” she replied calmly, “when I went into the bathroom this morning, I found a whole bunch of band-aids stuck all over the mirror.”

A man walked into a supermarket one afternoon and happened to notice an attractive woman standing a few aisles away, staring directly at him. At first, he assumed it was just a passing glance. But as he continued shopping, he realized she was still watching him — not casually, but with a look of recognition.

After several awkward moments of this silent observation, curiosity finally got the better of him. He approached her politely and asked, “Excuse me… do I know you from somewhere?”

The woman tilted her head slightly and replied, “I think you might be the father of one of my children.”

The man’s heart nearly stopped. His mind began racing as he tried to process what she had just said. He thought back over the years, replaying every questionable decision he had ever made. Then it hit him — the one and only time he had ever been unfaithful to his wife.

Swallowing hard, he leaned closer and nervously asked, “Wait… are you the dancer from my best friend’s bachelor party about five years ago? You know… the one where things got a little out of hand?”

He continued, lowering his voice, “The one where we ended up on the pool table while your friend was cracking a whip behind us?”

The woman’s eyes widened in complete shock and disbelief.

She stared at him for a moment and said, “No. I’m your son’s teacher.”

A man wandered into a toy store one afternoon with a very specific mission in mind: to buy a Barbie doll for his young daughter. He wasn’t exactly an expert on dolls, but he figured how complicated could it be? It’s just Barbie, right?

Spotting a display in the front window, he walked up to the counter and asked the sales assistant, “Excuse me, how much is that Barbie in the window?”

The assistant smiled politely and replied, “Which Barbie would you be referring to, sir? We have quite a selection.”

The man blinked, slightly overwhelmed. “Uh… I didn’t realize there were options.”

“Oh yes,” she said cheerfully. “We have Barbie Goes to the Gym for $19.95, Barbie Goes to the Ball for $19.95, Barbie Goes Shopping for $19.95, Barbie Goes to the Beach for $19.95, and Barbie Goes Nightclubbing for $19.95.”

The father nodded slowly, impressed by Barbie’s busy social calendar.

“And then,” the assistant continued, lowering her voice just a touch for emphasis, “we also have Divorced Barbie for $395.00.”

The man nearly choked. “Three hundred ninety-five dollars? Why on earth is Divorced Barbie so much more expensive than the others?”

The assistant gave him a knowing look and replied, “Well, sir, that’s quite simple. Divorced Barbie doesn’t just come with her own accessories. She comes with Ken’s house, Ken’s car, Ken’s boat, Ken’s furniture… and pretty much everything Ken ever owned.”

The man stood there in stunned silence for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully. Suddenly, the price didn’t seem so mysterious after all.

One afternoon, a husband looked over at his wife and, without much thought or tact, blurted out, “You know, your backside is getting really big. I swear, it’s bigger than the barbecue grill out back!”

He chuckled at his own joke, clearly amused with himself. His wife didn’t say a word. She simply gave him a long look, shook her head slightly, and went about her day as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

That night, as they were getting ready for bed, the husband decided to be affectionate. He scooted a little closer, trying to cuddle up and make some romantic advances. To his surprise, his wife immediately rolled away and pulled the blankets tighter around herself.

Confused, he asked, “Hey, what’s wrong? What did I do?”

She calmly turned to face him and replied, “Do you honestly think I’m going to fire up this big grill… just to cook one tiny little sausage?”

Needless to say, he suddenly realized that some jokes are better left unsaid.

The local sheriff had been short-staffed for months and finally decided it was time to hire a new deputy. Word traveled quickly around town, and before long, Gomer — who was known more for his enthusiasm than his intellect — decided he would give it a shot. Though most folks agreed he wasn’t exactly the sharpest nail in the bucket, Gomer walked into the sheriff’s office with confidence and a hopeful grin.

The sheriff leaned back in his creaky wooden chair, tilted his hat slightly, and looked Gomer over.

“Alright, Gomer,” he drawled slowly, “let’s see what you’ve got. First question — what’s one and one?”

Gomer didn’t hesitate. “Eleven,” he answered proudly.

The sheriff paused. That wasn’t exactly the answer he expected… but technically, it wasn’t wrong either. He scratched his chin and muttered to himself, “Well, that’s not what I meant — but I suppose he’s got a point.”

Trying again, the sheriff asked, “Tell me this: what two days of the week start with the letter ‘T’?”

Gomer smiled wider. “Today and tomorrow.”

The sheriff blinked in surprise. Once again, not the textbook answer — but clever in its own strange way. He hadn’t even thought of that himself.

Determined to test him further, the sheriff leaned forward and spoke more seriously. “Alright, Gomer, listen carefully now. Who killed Abraham Lincoln?”

This time, Gomer didn’t answer right away. His expression changed. He looked puzzled, even a little concerned. He scratched his head, stared at the floor, and thought harder than he probably ever had before. After a long moment, he finally sighed.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

The sheriff nodded thoughtfully. “That’s alright, Gomer. Why don’t you head home and work on that one for a while?”

Gomer left the office deep in thought but feeling oddly encouraged. It hadn’t felt like a failure to him at all. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d done well.

Later that afternoon, he strolled into the local pool hall where his friends were gathered, eagerly waiting to hear how the interview went.

“Well?” one of them asked. “Did you get the job?”

Gomer beamed with pride.

“It went great!” he announced. “First day on the job, and I’m already working on a murder case!”