A minister dies and is waiting in line at the Pearly Gates. Ahead of him is a guy who’s dressed in sunglasses, a loud shirt, leather jacket, and jeans.

Saint Peter addresses this guy, “Who are you, so that I may know whether or not to admit you to the Kingdom of Heaven?” The guy replies, “I’m Joe Cohen, taxi driver, of Noo Yawk City.” St. Peter consults his list. He smiles and says to the taxi driver, “Take this silken robe and golden staff and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

The taxi driver goes into Heaven with his robe and staff, and it’s the minister’s turn. He stands erect and booms out, “I am Joseph Snow, pastor of Calvary for the last forty-three years.” St Peter consults his list.

He says to the minister, “Take this cotton robe and wooden staff and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” “Just a minute,” says the minister. “That man was a taxi driver, and he gets a silken robe and golden staff. How can this be?!” “Up here, we work by results,” says Saint Peter. “While you preached, people slept; while he drove, people prayed.”

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On his 74th birthday, an old man received a gift certificate from his wife. The certificate paid for a visit to a medicine man living on a nearby reservation who was rumored to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction.

After being persuaded to go, he drove to the reservation, handed his ticket to the medicine man and wondered what he was in for.

The old man handed a potion to him, and with a grip on his shoulder, warned, “This is a powerful medicine. You take only a teaspoon and then say ‘1-2-3’.” When you do, you will become more manly than you have ever been in your life and you can perform as long as you want.”

The man was encouraged. As he walked away, he turned and asked, “How do I stop the medicine from working?”
“Your partner must say ‘1-2-3-4,'” the medicine man responded, “but when she does, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon.”

The man was very eager to see if it worked so he went home, showered, shaved, took a spoonful of the medicine and then invited his wife to join him in the bedroom. When she came in, he quickly took off his clothes and said, “1-2-3!” Immediately, he was the manliest of men. His wife was excited and began throwing off her clothes as she asked “What was the 1-2-3 for?”

And that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition, because we could end up with a dangling participle.

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An Irishman’s been drinking at a pub all night. When he stands up to leave, he falls flat on his face. He tries to stand one more time, but to no avail. Again, he falls flat on his face. He figures he’ll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up. Once outside, he stands up and, sure enough, he falls flat on his face. The Irishman decides to crawl the four blocks to his home.
When he arrives at the door, he stands up and falls flat on his face. He crawls through the door into his bedroom. When he reaches his bed, he tries one more time to stand up. This time, he manages to pull himself upright but he quickly falls right into bed. He is sound asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He awakens the next morning to his wife standing over him, shouting, “So, you’ve been out drinking again!”

“Why do you say that?” he asks innocently.

“The pub called. You left your wheelchair there again.”

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So I recently moved into a new neighborhood and it’s a pretty nice area. After a couple of weeks, a moving truck pulls up and I realize there’s a new girl living in the house next to me. So I walk out and I notice that she’s all by herself.
Being the good neighbor I am, I go up and ask, “Hey, I see you don’t have any help. Do you need any help with moving your boxes inside?”
And keep this in mind, I’m like a 6/10 on good day while this girl is an easy 9/10. Like this girl can easily be a supermodel.
So I ask if she needs any help and she looks me dead in the eye with the nastiest grimace on her face and says, “Uh… No thanks, I’m good.”

“Well ok. No problem. If you need anything, just give a little knock on the door and I’ll come out.”
So a couple days go by after that failed attempt and this girl’s dumb, small chihuahua jumps over the fence and gets into my yard. So I’m thinking, “Ok cranky girl. Round 2, let’s go, we got this.”

So I take the dumb dog and I bring it over to her house and give the door a knock. She opens the door and with the biggest smile says, “OH MY GOD thank you SO MUCH! I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s like family to me. I’m so sorry that I was so mean to you the other day. I was having a bad day and took it out on you and I’m so sorry. Please let me make it up to you and take you out to dinner.”
So I humbly accept and we end up going out to dinner that night. Now, we don’t have much in common. Like, I’m into video games and anime and she’s into all this white girl stuff like makeup, Starbucks, and all that other shit. But, we have a good time. And I mean, this girl is WAY out of my league so who am I to complain? So then we hang out more frequently, I visit her and she visits me and now I’m in a good relationship with this extremely hot chick.

A couple weeks go by, we continue this, and I see a moving truck come in from the other direction. I go out to greet the new neighbor and I see a cute girl come out of the moving truck. Now this girl is cute. She isn’t supermodel hot, but she’s cute. I would say she’s like a 7/10. So I go up to her and say, “Hey, I see you don’t have any help with moving your stuff in. Is it ok if I help?” Luckily, she says, “Yeah, sure. Um, take this box and put it in the living room. It’s the first room to the right, you can’t miss it.”
So I go to pick up the box and I realize that it’s labeled “Video Games.” The box wasn’t taped very well, so I peek into the box and I’m seeing some serious video games. I’m seeing Final Fantasy 7-9 black label, a mint copy of Illusion of Gaia. Like, what girl even knows what that game is!? So I ask, “Hey, is this a box of your boyfriend’s stuff?” and she responds with, “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. That stuff’s mine so make sure not to drop it.” So now I know this girl is actually the coolest girl ever.

So I help the girl move her stuff in and we hang out afterwards. We go out to lunch and we hit it off. We ended up just talking about video games the whole time and it was amazing. Now I have a friend to talk nerd shit with and don’t forget, she’s a cute as hell 7/10. And I also have this 9/10 girlfriend with me. And again, I’m just a 6/10 so right now, I’m living the dream.

So a couple weeks go by and my girlfriend comes up to me and says, “Hey, so this may sound weird, but I don’t want you to hang out with that girl anymore. You’re spending a lot of time with her and I’m honestly a little jealous and I want you to spend more time with me.”
I tell her, “Well listen, why don’t you try to talk to her. If you like me, then you’ll like her and then we can all hang out and it’ll be great.” She says, “Well…alright. I guess I’ll give it a shot. I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow

So next day, my girlfriend comes up to me and says, “Uh, yeah you can’t see that girl ever again.”

“Wait, what? Why not? What happened?”

“Yeah she told me that you’re hers now and if I ever go near you again, she is going to kill me.”

“I think you’re overreacting a little bit. She doesn’t seem like that type of person”

“She told me, and I quote, that she is going to fucking murder me.”

“I can’t imagine that it’s that serious. I’ll try to straighten this out and go talk to her tomorrow.”

I go up to 7/10’s house the next day and give it a little knock on the door but nobody answers. I try the doorbell, nothing. Give her a call, text her, no answer. So then I call my girlfriend, try to tell her that she wasn’t there and I’ll try again tomorrow. But again, no answer. So I go over to her house, knock on the door and still no answer. Next day knock* knock* no answer and I don’t know what’s going on.

So day after day goes by and eventually, week after week and I’m getting nothing. I put in the missing persons but nothing turns up. I call their family and friends and they know nothing. And after weeks of all this, I just give up.

Then I turn the news on one day, and I see the 7/10 girl getting carried away in handcuffs. And, she’s covered in blood from head to toe. She’s screaming and yelling at the camera saying, “She’s dead, you’re next.” A couple days go by and the autopsy reports are coming in, and its all over the internet. Apparently, not only did she kill my gorgeous 9/10 girlfriend, but parts of her were missing. Chunks of her arms and legs were gone and it seems that the 7/10 girl ate parts of my girlfriend. Bit and chewed into her.

Now I’m thinking to myself that I had the two most amazing girls in my life. And I’m here, 6/10, just worried out of my mind because I can’t get the image out of my head of her screaming into the cameras saying, “She’s dead, you’re next. She’s dead you’re next.” And I’m going crazy, I’m screaming and writing it in blood on the walls, “She’s dead, you’re next. She’s dead you’re next.” AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT DO DO ANYMORE.
And it raises the question: Why is 6 afraid of 7?

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