Daily Joke: Jokes Library

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!”

Late one evening, a woman nervously calls the police station to report that her husband has gone missing. She tells the dispatcher that he hasn’t come home, isn’t answering his phone, and she’s “very concerned” about his whereabouts. Within the hour, two officers arrive at her house to take a formal report.

They sit her down at the kitchen table and begin asking the usual questions.

“Ma’am, can you give us a physical description of your husband?”

Without hesitation, she sighs dramatically and says, “Oh yes. He’s about 6 foot 2, broad-shouldered, with thick, wavy blonde hair. He has the brightest blue eyes and a smile that just melts your heart. Everyone who meets him instantly loves him.”

The officers jot down the details, exchanging slightly impressed glances. One of them asks, “And what was he wearing when you last saw him?”

She continues, almost dreamily, “Something stylish, of course. He always looks handsome in everything.”

To be thorough, the officers decide to speak with the next-door neighbor to confirm the description. They knock on her door and explain the situation.

“Ma’am, we’re investigating a missing person report. Could you describe the husband next door?”

The neighbor raises an eyebrow. “Describe him? Well… he’s about 5 foot 4 on a good day. Bald as a bowling ball. Bit of a belly on him. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile. He looks like he’s been arguing with life since 1987.”

The officers glance down at their notes, clearly confused.

After they leave, the neighbor walks straight over to the woman’s house and confronts her.

“Why on earth did you give the police such a ridiculous description? That sounds nothing like your husband!”

The woman shrugs calmly and replies, “Look, just because I reported him missing doesn’t mean I actually want him found.”

A seasoned big-game hunter once set out on an African safari, bringing along his wife and, much to his quiet reluctance, his formidable mother-in-law. The expedition had been planned as an adventure of a lifetime—vast plains, dense jungle, and the thrill of the wild. For several days, everything went smoothly. The weather was warm, the game plentiful, and the evenings were spent around a crackling campfire beneath a sky heavy with stars.

One night, however, while they were still camped deep in the jungle, the hunter’s wife awoke suddenly to an eerie silence. Something felt wrong. She turned to check on her mother, who had been sleeping in a nearby tent, only to discover it was empty. Panic surged through her.

She shook her husband awake. “My mother’s gone!” she whispered urgently. “We have to find her—right now!”

The hunter, though accustomed to danger, groaned at the thought of stumbling through lion country in the dead of night. Still, with a sigh, he reached for his rifle, took a steadying swig of whiskey from his flask, and lit a lantern. Together, they stepped cautiously into the thick darkness of the jungle, calling out her mother’s name while listening to every rustle and distant cry.

After a tense search, they emerged into a small clearing not far from their camp. There, illuminated by moonlight, was a sight that stopped them cold. The mother-in-law stood frozen, her back pressed tightly against a thick, impenetrable bush. Just a few yards away, a large male lion stood facing her, its golden eyes locked on its unexpected encounter.

The wife clutched her husband’s arm in terror. “What are we going to do?” she gasped.

The hunter lowered his rifle slightly, calmly assessing the situation. After a brief pause, he shrugged and replied in a steady voice, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she exclaimed.

“Yes,” he said, taking another casual sip from his flask. “The lion got himself into this mess… let him get himself out of it.”

A traveling salesman was driving home through the quiet, open stretches of Northern Arizona after a long and uneventful trip. The miles had felt endless, and the silence in the car was beginning to wear on him. As he rounded a bend in the road, he noticed a Navajo man standing by the roadside with his thumb out, hoping for a ride. Grateful for the chance to break the monotony and have a bit of company, the salesman pulled over and offered him a lift.

The Navajo man climbed into the passenger seat, and they soon settled into light conversation about the road, the weather, and the distance still ahead. For a while, they rode in comfortable silence. Every so often, the salesman noticed the Navajo man glancing discreetly at a brown paper bag resting on the front seat between them.

After a few miles, the salesman smiled and said, “If you’re wondering what’s in the bag, it’s just a bottle of wine. I bought it as a gift for my wife.”

The Navajo man remained quiet for a moment, thoughtfully nodding his head several times. Finally, he looked over and replied calmly, “Good trade.”

A married man enters the confessional and quietly tells the priest, “Father, I need to confess… I was unfaithful to my wife. Well… almost unfaithful.”

The priest leans closer and asks, “Almost? What exactly does that mean, my son?”

The man sighs and replies, “We got carried away. We took off our clothes and… well… we rubbed together for a while. But before things went any further, I stopped myself.”

The priest shakes his head and says firmly, “My son, rubbing together is the same as doing the act itself in the eyes of sin. You must not see that woman again. As penance, say five Hail Marys and place fifty dollars in the poor box before you leave.”

The man agrees, leaves the confessional, and dutifully kneels to say his prayers. When he finishes, he walks over to the poor box. He stands there for a moment, thinking carefully, then quietly turns and begins heading for the door.

The priest, who has been watching from a distance, rushes over and calls out, “Excuse me! I saw that. You didn’t put any money in the poor box!”

The man looks back calmly and says, “Father, I rubbed up against it… and like you said, that’s the same as putting it in.”