A newlywed couple had just moved into their first home.

The husband is slouched on the couch, glued to a football game.

During a commercial break, his wife says, “Honey, can you change the lightbulb in the hallway after the game?”

He smirks and replies, “Do I look like a damn electrician?”

A few days later, she says, “The fridge door’s busted. Can you fix it?”

He shrugs, “Do I look like a damn appliance repairman?”

She tries one more time: “At least fix the broken step by the front door? Someone’s going to break their neck!”

He scoffs, “I’m not a damn carpenter either! What do I look like, Home Depot? I’m going to the pub!”

A few hours (and beers) later, guilt kicks in. He stumbles home expecting the house to be in pieces—but surprise!

The hallway light is on.

The fridge door works.

The step is fixed.

Shocked, he asks,

“How did all this get done?”

His wife says, “Well, after you stormed out, I sat outside and cried. A nice young man walked by and asked what was wrong. When I told him, he said he’d fix everything if I either baked him a fancy cake… or s.l.ept with him.”

The husband stares at her. “So… you baked him a cake?”

She looks him dead in the eyes: “Do I look like a damn pastry chef?”

Boom. Roasted.

A happily married couple had only one major issue in their relationship

This story doesn’t make you cry laughing, let me know—I’ll say a prayer for you.

A happily married couple had only one major issue in their relationship: the husband’s morning routine of farting like a foghorn.

Every day, his wife would wake up to the thunderous blasts, gasping for air as the noxious fumes made her eyes water.

“Please, for the love of all things holy, STOP!” she begged him daily.

“I can’t help it,” he’d say. “It’s totally natural!”

She warned him, “One day, you’re going to blow your guts out.”

The years rolled by, and so did his morning explosions. Then came Christmas morning. As the wife was preparing the turkey, she stared at the pile of innards—gizzard, liver, neck, and all—and a brilliantly wicked idea struck her.

She crept upstairs, where her husband was still snoozing, gently pulled back the covers, and ever so carefully tipped the entire bowl of turkey guts into his underwear before tucking him back in.
A while later, the house shook with his usual morning eruption—only this time, it was followed by a bloodcurdling scream. The sound of frantic footsteps pounded toward the bathroom.

The wife collapsed on the floor, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

Twenty minutes later, the husband emerged, pale as a ghost, in his now blood-streaked underwear. His face was a mask of horror.

Trying to keep a straight face, his wife asked, “What happened?”

He gulped. “Honey… you were right. All these years, you warned me, but I never listened.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, barely holding it together.

“Well… it finally happened. I farted my guts out.”

He shuddered, then added, “But by the grace of God, some Vaseline, and two fingers… I think I got most of them back in.”

LOL!!

Hope this joke will make you smile! Have a nice day!!