Delivery Style: narrative

Narrative joke delivery styles, punchline pacing, and comedy formats for people with specific chaos preferences from Chaotic Meh — organized so the algorithm can pretend this place has adult supervision.

  • Not Much These Days

    A clown walks into a bar.

    His demeanor is awful. He asks the bartender for a shot, but says he won’t be able to pay for it.

    The bartender takes one look at him and decides he needs it.

    “Sure, buddy. You look awful. Wanna talk about it?”

    The clown downs the shot and says, “My God. Today is the worst day of my life. I’m in town for a comedy show, but my joke gopher was stolen, the show was canceled, my hotel reservation was canceled because of the show, and my bank accounts have been frozen!”

    He slumps in his seat and shakes his head.

    The bartender pours him another shot.

    “Wow, that’s a really awful day. I’m sorry, but what’s a joke gopher?”

    The clown shakes his head again.

    “Not much these days, or I wouldn’t be begging for drinks.”

    Share:TwitterFacebookLinkedinRedditWhatsappEmail

  • Rose, What Was the Name of the Restaurant?

    Two older gentlemen are chatting after dinner while their wives are in the kitchen.

    “We had a lovely meal at that new restaurant in town the other night,” said one to the other.

    “That’s nice,” said his friend. “What was the name of the restaurant?”

    “Oh, what’s the name of the lovely scented flower that grows on a thorny plant?”

    “Rose?” replied the friend.

    “That’s it.” Then, turning toward the kitchen, the gentleman called out, “Rose, what was the name of the restaurant the other night?”

    Share:TwitterFacebookLinkedinRedditWhatsappEmail

  • The Vegas Prostitute

    A man is walking the Las Vegas strip and runs into the most beautiful woman he has ever met. He starts talking to her, and to his luck, he finds out she is a prostitute. So he asks her,

    Clean Mode hides the spicy parts.
    Unleash Chaos

    “How much for a hand job?”

    “$5,000,” she replies.

    “$5,000?? You must be nuts, no way.”

    “Walk with me,” she replies. He agrees and they walk for a moment, ending up in front of a restaurant. “You see this restaurant? I own this restaurant because men pay me $5,000 for hand jobs.”

    He ponders for a moment. “Damn, they must be pretty good then. Alright.” He brings her back to his hotel room, gets the hand job, and as advertised — it is the best hand job he has ever had. After he finishes, he realizes how perfect she is and asks, “Okay, that was awesome. How much for a blow job?”

    “$15,000,” she replies.

    “$15,000?!? You are out of your mind. No way!” he shouts.

    “Come to the window.” They walk to the window and she begins to point. “You see those three casinos? I own those casinos because men pay me $15,000 for blow jobs.”

    “Fine, how can I say no?”

    Once again, it is the best blow job of his life. He is writhing in ecstasy after finishing, and practically in love with this woman. “Okay, I am gonna regret this. How much for the pussy?”

    “Come to the window.” He follows her to the window, ready for anything. “Do you see all of Las Vegas?” she asks.

    “No way! You own all of Las Vegas?!” he exclaims, astounded.

    “No…” she looks down. “But I would if I had a pussy…”

    Share:TwitterFacebookLinkedinRedditWhatsappEmail

  • The Gynaecologist

    A beautiful, sassy lady got into a compartment where three men were seated. They were staring at her. She said if they gave one dollar each, she would show her legs.

    Immediately, three dollars fell onto her lap.

    She lifted her dress to her knees. Indeed, the legs were nice.

    Then she said, “Five dollars each, I’ll show my thighs.” Came fifteen dollars, and she lifted her dress high up till her panties.

    Then the bomb came.

    “Thirty dollars each, I will show where my gynaecologist operated on me.”

    Salivating, the three men gave the money.

    A station was nearing and the train slowed down. She showed the hospital next to the station — “This is where my gynaecologist operated on me” — and got off the train.

    Share:TwitterFacebookLinkedinRedditWhatsappEmail
  • Ugh! Again?!

    Ugh! Again?!

    Ugh! Again?!
  • Mr No Shoes and the Shooty Shooty Bang Bang Christmas

    Mr No Shoes and the Shooty Shooty Bang Bang Christmas

    Mr No Shoes and the Shooty Shooty Bang Bang Christmas

  • Try again, Einstein

    Day after day, the same guy keeps taking my favorite parking space at work, so I keep keying the sides of his car. And each morning, he shows up again with it painted a new color and with a different license plate, just to confuse me. Ha! Try again, Einstein!

  • The Egg Timer

    This morning, my wife was in the kitchen preparing to boil eggs for breakfast. As I walked in, she turned to me and said, “You’ve got to make love to me this very moment!” My eyes lit up and I thought, “This is my lucky day!”

    Not wanting to lose the moment, I didn’t waste any time at all — I gave her a banging right on the kitchen table!

    Afterwards she said, “Thanks,” and returned to the stove.

    More than a little puzzled, I asked, “What was that all about?”

    She giggled, “The egg timer’s broken.”

    Share:TwitterFacebookLinkedinRedditWhatsappEmail

  • The Donkey Clock

    An American man visiting Mexico finds his wristwatch has stopped working. He’s got a flight to catch in a few hours, so he tries to ask a local the time but doesn’t know the language. Finally he meets an old Mexican man sitting next to a donkey who speaks English. “Excuse me, Señor, but do you know the time?” the American asks.

    The old man reaches up and grabs the donkey’s balls. He twists them to the left, then he moves them to the right, then he lifts them up. “Sí, Señor, it’s 2:20,” he replies.

    The American stands there for a moment, flabbergasted. Then he replies, “Gracias, Señor,” and walks away pondering what he just witnessed.

    A short time passes and the American wants to see the old man’s trick again, so he asks him the time. The old man again grabs the donkey’s balls — he twists them left, then moves them right, then lifts them up. “It’s 2:45,” the old man replies.

    “How in the hell are you doing that? How do you tell the time with donkey balls?” says the American.

    The old man replies, “You see, Señor, I twist them left, I turn them right, then I lift them so I can see that clock over there.”

    Share:TwitterFacebookLinkedinRedditWhatsappEmail

  • Show Him Your Badge

    A DEA officer stopped at our farm yesterday.

    Clean Mode hides the spicy parts.
    Unleash Chaos

    “I need to inspect your farm for illegally grown drugs,” he said.

    I replied, “Okay, but don’t go in that field over there.”

    The DEA officer exploded. “Mister, I have the authority of the federal government with me!”

    Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his badge and shoved it in my face.

    “See this fucking badge? This badge means I am allowed to go wherever I wish, on any land. No questions asked, no answers given! Do I make myself clear? Do you understand?”

    I nodded politely, apologized, and went back to my chores.

    A short time later, I heard loud screams. I looked up and saw the DEA officer running for his life, being chased by my big old mean bull.

    With every step, the bull was gaining ground, and it looked like the officer would get gored before he made it to safety.

    So I threw down my tools, ran to the fence, and shouted at the top of my lungs:

    “Your badge! Show him your fucking badge!”

    Share:TwitterFacebookLinkedinRedditWhatsappEmail