Tag Archives: burger

Joke #18395

I’m a young guy who hates to cook. She’s a beautiful waitress who serves food. Of course, I was in love. But even though I frequently ordered out from her restaurant, I figured she didn’t even know I existed. Then one day, after placing an order, I asked if she needed my name.

“No,” she said. “I remember you.”

Now I was on cloud nine. But I quickly fell back to Earth when I got my food. Inside the bag was the sales slip. On it she had written, “Cheeseburger, Med.–Fries–Large Coke, for nerdy guy with bad haircut.”

Foodland’s Top Ten Movie Stars

Cheryl Lard

Rabbit Redford

Goldie Hen

Lauren Bagel

Barbra Streisandwich

Vincent Slice

Jane Fondue

Ingrid Burgerman

Pea Marvin

Beet Midler

And their favorite comics of all time:

Peter Fork

Bread Buttons

Joan Livers

David Steinburger

Lico-Rich Little

Phyllis Dill-Pickle

Bean Martin and Cherry Lewis

Time Warp

One day a person named Ed was serving someone at Good Burger. The customer said, “I’d like to have a Good Shake please.” Ed said, “OK” then Ed shook him. The customer said, ” What are you doing? I’m going to Mondo Burger.” Then 2 aliens with 3 hands each came in. Ed said, “Welcome to Good Burger, home of the Good Burger. Can I take your order?” One alien said, “We want your planet……how much is it?” Ed says, “One Good Earth. That’ll be 8 bucks.” The alien said, “Thank you for selling your world for 8 bucks. We’ll send you to anytime in the past.” Ed said, “Cool” then he started shaking their hands in the middle of their stomachs and accidentally ripped them out. The alien said, “You have pulled out our hands from our stomachs!” Ed said, “Uh no.” “We will transport you to the midevil times now.” Then there was a circle over Ed. The circle sucked him up.

Meanwhile in the midevil times the evil God was about to kill the king. Then out of nowhere Ed fell on top of the evil God who died because the sword went through his head. Then Ed said, “Uh no.” The king said, “Thank you. You have saved me. I will grant you anything you want.” Ed said, “I want 8 bucks.” The king gave him 8 bucks and they lived happily ever after after Ed killed the king accidentally.


Moral: Violence don’t play that game.

The Janitor’s Great Adventure

The first time I saw the lady, I knew my life was over. But why start the story at the end? Let’s start from the beginning…

It was Saint Patrick’s Day, and everyone was drunk. That’s when I was made. Ain’t it grand? Anyway, I got born. Momma said I’d be a good janitor. Dadda said that I’d make a good towel rack. So I did what I thought I should do for a career. Be a janitor. Momma always liked it when I helped her work at home. She was a homework maker. The type of person that makes homework worksheets for schools and lazy teachers to use when they didn’t want to make their own.

Annnnnyyywayyy….my parents named me when I was old enough to go to college, even though I would never go to college. They named me after their favorite restaurant. Burger King. Burger King was a strong, forceful name, Dadda said. Dadda never married Momma. That meant Dadda could go out and hump the grass whenever he wanted. Dadda and Momma wanted to get married, but unfortunately, they were waiting for me to make income before they could use my money to get married, and give 5 dollars to all the dancers that would come. They were planning a grand marriage. One that would never come, because a freak accident happened to them. An invisible man came over and chopped their heads off, while they were getting stoned.

Poor unfortunate parents…

ANYWAY. I got hired at a school, and was treated with respect, people were so nice to me, saying hi to me then walking away laughing. I’m glad I made them happy. I think it was my smell that did it.

One day, I heard a rumor from one of the loser kids I became friends with, and sometimes buy alcohol for so he can give to other people, that a teacher was all high on heroin, and was raped 56 times up the ass. Of course it was a rumor, it wasn’t true…

Or was it?

I will never forget that day…February 31, 2009. You may say “hey wait a minute, February doesn’t have 31 days!” Well, I say to you “WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG!!!!!!” In the year 2009, the inhabitants of Bahrain got pissed off that February only had 28 days, and 29 days for some years, that they made a proposition at the United Nations to change that. Europe was in an outrage, and so was the Americas. But, China and India got behind Bahrain. The world made war on itself over the issue. Eventually a smart man said, “lets jus thave 31 days in February.” And everyone said, “ok” and stopped fighting. Treaties were signed, movies were made, history book writers were bored, and everyone went back to their boring old jobs.

Besides the fact that only a puppy lost his life from natural causes during the war, it was about time that…um…whatever…

Anyway, that teacher I told you about? 9 months after I heard that rumor, I saw her wobbling down the hallway, all fat and shit, and she shoulda been teaching her damn fangled Social Studies class. That bitch. She was screaming something about her water breaking to me, but I looked at the drinking fountain and it looked fine to me. Then she shook me by the collar screaming, “take me to the hospital, you assholeeeeee!!!”

I never been to a hospital, so I grabbed her, and got into my janitor car thingy, and shoved her in it too, driving down the main road in town, hoping to find the thing she was talking about.

I saw a big blue sign. Momma said that hospitals have big blue signs so I assumed it was the hospital, so I drove through the windows but when I crashed through it, everyone was sitting down at tables…eating pancakes…since when did hospitals have pancakes? But…I was wrong. Dead wrong.

The teacher was pissing all over the place, tossing baby poop, baby pee and babies all around the place,and people got pissed off and threw up, and tossed their pancakes at the waiters. Of course the waiters were getting mad, so the waiters charged the customers more money. We were smack dab in the middle of an IHOP. Don’t blame me, I’m just a janitor…

The End.

The Autobiography of Arby, the Crappy Fast Food Restaurant Owner

Hello, my name is Arby. Yes, I know everyone in the whole world hates my restaurant and its food, and wish that I go away forever, but I won’t. Not yet anyway…I have to tell you my story first!

It all started one day. One day…yes…one day…one day. One day I was visiting my Aunt Arby. Arby is my family’s last name, y’know. Anyway, I was visiting my Aunt Arby, and she made a burger one day. Or so I thought it was a burger…it was actually a piece of crap that consisted of slices of beef that were sliced the same as packaged ham slices. A stack of the beef slices in between 2 pieces of bread. That was the start of the Arby burger. So, I enslaved my aunt to make the Arby Burger 24/7 for the rest of her worthless life. The burgers were cheap to make, and my aunt worked for free.

Soon, I enslaved the rest of my living family. They all worked in the same room. In my bedroom closet. The closet was 45 inches by 2 inches, of course it wasn’t very good, and there was disease, germs, sweat, and such floating around. Well, it wasn’t very good for them, but it was great for me! It cost me 45 cents to make 346 Arby Burgers. And I sold them to unsuspecting neighbors and children for 8 dollars. Soon, I got some advice from a friendly man passing by. He told me that I should make a chain of Arby Burger fast food restaurants and beat the crap outta McDonalds, and Burger King and such. So I did and I personally went over to the CEO’s of McDonalds, Burger King, and such, and beat the crap outta them. It was my first advertising campaign. My first TV coverage for my restaurant was on America’s Most Wanted, where I was nicknamed the Fast Food CEO Crap Beater Outter.

I was sent into prison, when they finally caught me hiding behind a trash can. In prison, I made many friends, and hired some managers. The people I made as managers were Reverse the Molestor, Dust Cloud the Rabid Tick, Mo the Tigress, and Flasher n’ Dasher. They were the “muscle” of Arby. We planned how to make Arby Burgers into an empire, and made business decisions that would be vital to our main cash flow. Once I got out, I put the plans into action, and got enough money to get all of my committee out of jail on bail. We bought ourselves 56 more stores across the city of Mlah, Canada, dressing ourselves in snazzy suits, and over inflated priced watches, earrings, nose rings, and tit rings. We started plans on inventing new types of Arby Burgers, then we came to a surprising conclusion. We needed employees, and since most people would have to be paid, our expansion plans and our advertising for all around the North American continent, were slowed down. My family worked until they died, not being paid a cent. I will never forget my family. Wait…who was I talking about?

Slowly and steadily, our crappy burgers became served in low-rate schools once a week, earning us billions and billions of dollars. Soon enough, we had enough money to buy chairs in the restaurants…!

As time goes on, the legacy of Arby Burger will live on forever.

Or so we thought.

That’s when the last relative of my family came in with a machine gun, gunning down everyone eating at Arby Burger’s main restaurant. He escaped my enslaving of my family, I suppose, so he came to get revenge on me by killing my committee, and putting me in the hospital, where I later died, not from a gunshot wound, but from the diseases passed on through my Arby Burgers. The remaining Arby, is the one that made our logo be a Cowboy hat that said Arby on it, and all was forgotten of Arby’s past…including me…