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FLAT FROG
There was a 10 year old boy walking down the sidewalk dragging a flattened frog on a string behind him.

He walked up to a house of ill repute and knocked on the door.
When the Madam answered it, she saw the little boy and asked what he wanted.
He said, 'I want to have sex with one of the women inside. I have the money and I'm not leaving until I do.'
The Madam figured, why not, so she told him to come in. Once in, she told him to pick any of the girls he liked.
He asked, 'Do any of the girls have any diseases?'

Of course, the Madam said no, but the boy replied, 'I heard all the men talking about having to get shots after making it with Amber.

‘So THAT'S the girl I want!'

Since the little boy was so adamant and had the money to pay for it, the Madam told him to go to the first room on the right.
He headed down the hall dragging the squashed frog behind him.

Ten minutes later he came back, still dragging the frog, paid the Madam, and headed out the door.

The Madam stopped him and asked, 'Why did you pick the only girl in the place with a disease, instead of one of the others?'
He said, 'Well, if you must know, tonight when I get home, my parents are going out to a restaurant to eat, leaving me at home with my babysitter.
After they leave, my babysitter will have sex with me because she just happens to be very fond of little boys. She will get the disease that I just caught.

When Mom and Dad get back, Dad will take the babysitter home. On the way, he'll jump her bones, and he'll catch the disease.
Then when Dad gets home from the babysitters, he and Mom will go to bed and have sex, and Mom will catch it.
In the morning when Dad goes to work, the Milkman will deliver the milk, have a quickie with Mom and catch the disease...and HE'S the son-of-a-bitch who ran over my FROG!

Just for you $pare!
For all the jokes I've copied and forwarded on to others I thought I would share this one with you.

Two Middle East mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a plate of tabouli and a pint of goat's milk.



The older of the two pulls a small album out of her purse and starts flipping through photos. They start reminiscing.



"This is my oldest son, Mujibar. He would have been 24 years old now."



"Yes, I remember him as a baby" says the other mother cheerfully.



"He's a martyr now though" the mother confides.



"Oh, so glad dear, you must be so proud," says the other.



"And this is my second son, Khalid. He would have been 21."



"Oh, I remember him," says the other happily. "He had such curly hair when he was born."



"He's a martyr too," says the mother quietly.



"Oh, gracious me . . . " says the other.



"And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed."



"He would have been 18," she whispers.



"Yes," says the friend enthusiastically, "I remember when he first started school."



"He's a martyr also," says the mother, with tears in her eyes.



After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully at the photographs and, searching for the right words, says . . ..



"They blow up so fast, don't they?"

good ones guys

OMG! LMAO!!!