A blonde walks into a police department looking for a job. The officer starts with a few basic questions:
Officer: “What’s 2+2?”
Blonde: “Umm… 4!”
Officer: “What’s the square root of 100?”
Blonde: “Umm… 10!”
Then the officer asks, “Who killed Abraham Lincoln?”
Blonde: “Umm… I don’t know.”
The officer suggests, “You can go home and think about it. Come back tomorrow.”
Thrilled, the blonde calls a friend and says, “Not only did I get the job, but I’m already working on a murder case!”
The cord shouldn’t have been there. It glared up at you, a bright accusation in the grass, humming with a decision you never got to make. Your…
The joke landed like a defibrillator to the soul. One moment, the clinic was all fluorescent lights and quiet dread; the next, it was split open by…
White spots don’t wait politely. They arrive like a jolt—sudden, stark, and impossible to ignore once you finally see them. In the mirror’s unforgiving light, they seem…
The knock shattered our fresh start. A smiling stranger. A plate of cookies. A rule that sounded neighborly but felt like a warning. We laughed it off,…
The night didn’t just burn. It tore the city’s name off its own tongue and left it speechless. Sirens blurred into a single, endless scream, and people…
Most people think dates are just candy, another hit of sugar in a world already drowning in it. They’re wrong. What happens when you trade the chaos…