Hallway Jokes

There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary littleboy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing,destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down tothe bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friendshuddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them,”What’s the Purple Wombat?””You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the children exclaimeddisgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy,always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy,confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.”Hey, Mister Bus Driver!” one of the chldren shouted. “Billy doesn’t knowwhat the Purple Wombat is!”The bus driver turned around abruptly. “You don’t know what the PurpleWombat is?” he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in thevery back of the bus, all by himself.Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went toclass. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegianceand worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then theteacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really payingattention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the PurpleWombat.Billy’s hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked,”Teacher, what’s the Purple Wombat?””You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the teacher cried in alarm,”Get yourself to the principal’s office right now, young man. No, no buts –march!”So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to theprincipal’s office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, andtimidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, satthe principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thinmustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough tofrighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost totears.”Well, Billy,” he began slowly. “What seems to be the problem?””Mr. Principal, I just don’t know what’s going on today. Everyone’s beenacting weird, and they’re all treating me really badly. Like teacher justsent me to you and stuff.””Now, Billy, I’m here to help you. I’m the princi-Pal, after all.Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone’s acting so strangely?””It’s because I don’t know what some stupid Purple Wombat is.””What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is? That’s it. I am callingyour mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended.”The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home.Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother wasstanding in the doorway waiting for him.”Billy!” she called, sobbing, “I was so worried about you! What happened?””Mom,” Billy cried, “Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in theback of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal’soffice and the principal suspended me, all because I don’t know what thePurple Wombat is!””What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” Billy’s mother shrieked.”Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!”So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed,crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doorsshutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talkingdownstairs but didn’t know what they were saying. Then he heard footstepscoming up the stairs, and his door opened.”Billy,” his father began in that lecturing-father tone, “Your mother saysyou’ve been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you’ve done?””Dad, I haven’t done anything! I just don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!””You…don’t know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you canjust stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!”Billy’s father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on hisbed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way — lyingthere, crying, wishing he would wake up.Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said:”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy.”Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find thesource of the voice, but he could not.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy.”It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on,opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat.”Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He gotto the edge of a wood.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy.”The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and veryfrightening, but Billy didn’t care. He had to find out what the PurpleWombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy.”Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he keptfalling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going,driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy.”Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the townlake.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I’m out here, Billy.”It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboatsfrom the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, itwas very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.”Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy.”The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, andthe boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way acrossthe lake, he heard: “Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I’m up here, Billy.”It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood upto look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn’tknow how to swim, so he drowned.Moral: Don’t stand up in a boat.

A young executive is working late one evening. As he comes out of his office about 8 PM he sees the Big Boss standing by the shredder in the hallway, a piece of paper in his hand. “Do you know how to work this thing?” the older man asks. “My secretary’s gone home and I don’t know how to run it.” “Yes, sir,” says the young executive, who turns on the machine, takes the paper from the other man, and feeds it in. “Now,” says his boss, “I just need the one copy.”

Two rednecks decided that they weren’t going anywhere in life and thought they should go to college to get ahead. The first went in to see the counselor, who told him to take math, history, and logic. “What’s logic?” the first redneck asked. The professor answered, “Let me give you an example. Do you own a weed eater?” “I sure do.” “Then I can assume, using logic, that you have a yard,” replied the professor. “That’s real good!” said the redneck. The professor continued, “Logic will also tell me that since you have a yard, you also own a house.” Impressed, the redneck said, “Amazing!” “And since you own a house, logic dictates that you have a wife.” “That’s Betty Mae! This is incredible!” The redneck was catching on. “Finally, since you have a wife, logically I can assume that you are heterosexual,” said the professor. “You’re absolutely right! Why that’s the most fascinatin’ thing I ever heard! I cain’t wait to take that logic class!” The redneck, proud of the new world opening up to him, walked back into the hallway where his friend was still waiting. “So what classes are ya takin’?” asked the friend. “Math, history, and logic!” replied the first redneck. “What in tarnation is logic?” asked his friend. “Let me give you an example. Do ya own a weed eater?” asked the first redneck. “No,” his friend replied. “You’re queer, ain’t ya?”

Customer: Hi. How much is your paint? Clerk: Well, sir, that all depends on quite a lot of things. Customer: Can you give me a guess? Is there an average price? Clerk: Our lowest price is $12 a gallon, and we have 60 different prices up to $200 a gallon. Customer: What’s the difference in the paint? Clerk: Oh, there isn’t any difference; it’s all the same paint. Customer: Well, then I’d like some of that $12 paint. Clerk: When do you intend to use the paint? Customer: I want to paint tomorrow. It’s my day off. Clerk: Sir, the paint for tomorrow is the $200 paint. Customer: When would I have to paint to get the $12 paint? Clerk: You would have to start very late at night in about 3 weeks. But you will have to agree to start painting before Friday of that week and continue painting until at least Sunday. Customer: You’ve got to be *&%^#@* kidding! Clerk: I’ll check and see if we have any paint available. Customer: You have shelves FULL of paint! I can see it! Clerk: But it doesn’t mean that we have paint available. We sell only a certain number of gallons on any given weekend. Oh, and by the way, the price per gallon just went to $16. We don’t have any more $12 paint. Customer: The price went up as we were talking? Clerk: Yes, sir. We change the prices and rules hundreds of times a day, and since you haven’t actually walked out of the store with your paint yet, we just decided to change. I suggest you purchase your paint as soon as possible. How many gallons do you want? Customer: Well, maybe five gallons. Make that six, so I’ll have enough. Clerk: Oh no, sir, you can’t do that. If you buy paint and don’t use it, there are penalties and possible confiscation of the paint you already have. Customer: WHAT? Clerk: We can sell enough paint to do your kitchen, bathroom, hall and north bedroom, but if you stop painting before you do the bedroom, you will lose your remaining gallons of paint. Customer: What does it matter whether I use all the paint? I already paid you for it! Clerk: We make plans based upon the idea that all our paint is used, every drop. If you don’t, it causes us all sorts of problems. Customer: This is crazy!! I suppose something terrible happens if I don’t keep painting until after Saturday night! Clerk: Oh yes! Every gallon you bought automatically becomes the $200 paint. Customer: But what are all these, “Paint on sale from $10 a liter” signs? Clerk: Well that’s for our budget paint. It only comes in half-gallons. One $5 half-gallon will do half a room. The second half-gallon to complete the room is $20. None of the cans have labels, some are empty and there are no refunds, even on the empty cans. Customer: To hell with this! I’ll buy what I need somewhere else! Clerk: I don’t think so, sir. You may be able to buy paint for your bathroom and bedrooms, and your kitchen and dining room from someone else, but you won’t be able to paint your connecting hall and stairway from anyone but us. And I should point out, sir, that if you paint in only one direction, it will be $300 a gallon. Customer: I thought your most expensive paint was $200! Clerk: That’s if you paint around the room to the point at which you started. A hallway is different. Customer: And if I buy $200 paint for the hall, but only paint in one direction, you’ll confiscate the remaining paint. Clerk: No, we’ll charge you an extra use fee plus the difference on your next gallon of paint. But I believe you’re getting it now, sir. Customer: You’re insane! Clerk: Thanks for painting with United.

A woman went to the doctor’s office and was seen by one of the new young doctors. After about four minutes in the examination room, she started screaming and ran down the hall. An older doctor stopped her and asked what the problem was, and she told him her story. After listening, he told her to sit down and relax in another room. The older doctor marched down the hallway to the back where the first doctor was and demanded, “What’s the matter with you? Mrs. Terry is 63 years old, she has four grown children and seven grandchildren, and you told her she was pregnant?” The new doctor continued to write on his clipboard and, without looking up, said, “Does she still have the hiccups?”

A carpet layer had just finished installing carpet for a lady. He stepped out for a smoke, only to realize he’d lost his cigarettes. In the middle of the room, under the carpet, was a bump. “No sense pulling up the entire floor for one pack of smokes,” he said to himself. He proceeded to get out his hammer and flattened the hump. As he was cleaning up, the lady came in. “Here,” she said, handing him his pack of cigarettes. “I found them in the hallway.” “Now,” she said, “if only I could find my gerbil.”

An old guy confined to a nursing home was walking down the hallway when he noticed Mrs. Barnstone sitting on a chair in the lounge. He walked up to her and asked her if she could guess how old he was. She replied, “Drop your pants and let me see.” Then after looking at him, she said, “Why you’re 88 years old!” “Why yes I am,” the old man said, “how did you know?” “Well you told me this morning at breakfast.”

An engineer, a physicist and a mathematician are staying in a hotel. The engineer wakes up and smells smoke. He goes out into the hallway and sees a fire, so he fills a trash can from his room with water and douses the fire. He goes back to bed. Later, the physicist wakes up and smells smoke. He opens his door and sees a fire in the hallway. He walks down the hall to a fire hose and after calculating the flame velocity, distance, water pressure, trajectory, etc. extinguishes the fire with the minimum amount of water and energy needed. Later, the mathematician wakes up and smells smoke. He goes to the hall, sees the fire and then the fire hose. He thinks for a moment andthen exclaims, “Ah, a solution exists!” and then goes back to bed.

Two rednecks met in a bar and decided that they weren’t going anywhere in life so thought they should go to college to get ahead. They hop in a pickup and drive to the nearest college. While the second one waits out in the hall, the first goes in to one of the rooms and finds a professor who advises him to take Math, History, and Logic. ‘What’s Logic?’ asked the first redneck. The professor replied, ‘Let me give you an example: Do you own a weedeater?’ ‘I sure do,’ grinned the redneck. ‘Then I can assume, using logic, that you have a yard,’ replied the professor. ‘That’s real good,’ the redneck responded in awe. The professor continued: ‘Logic will also tell me that since you have a yard, you also have a house.’ Impressed, the redneck shouts ‘AMAZIN’!’ ‘And since you own a house, logic dictates that you have a wife.’ ‘Betty Mae… this is incredible!’ (The redneck is catching on.) Finally, since you have a wife, logically I can assume that you are heterosexual,’ says the professor. ‘You’re absolutely right! Why that’s the most fascinatin’ thing I ever heard of. I cain’t wait to take this here logic class.’ The first redneck, grinning ear to ear with pride at the new world opening up to him, walked back into the hallway where his friend is waiting. ‘So what classes are ya takin’?’ The friend asked. ‘Math, History, and Logic,’ replies the first redneck. ‘What in tarnation is Logic?’ asked his new friend. ‘Let me give you an example. Do ya own a weedeater?’ ‘No,’ his friend replied. You’re queer, ain’t ya?

Walking through the hallways at the middle school where I work, I saw a new substitute teacher standing outside his classroom with his forehead against a locker. I heard him mutter, “How did you get yourself into this?” Knowing that he was assigned to a difficult class, I tried to offer moral support. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Can I help?” He lifted his head and replied, “I’ll be fine as soon as I get this kid out of his locker.”

There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat. Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them, “What’s the Purple Wombat?” “You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children. “Hey, Mister Bus Driver!” one of the chldren shouted. “Billy doesn’t know what the Purple Wombat is!” The bus driver turned around abruptly. “You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself. Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat. Billy’s hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked, “Teacher, what’s the Purple Wombat?” “You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the teacher cried in alarm, “Get yourself to the principal’s office right now, young man. No, no buts — march!” So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal’s office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears. “Well, Billy,” he began slowly. “What seems to be the problem?” “Mr. Principal, I just don’t know what’s going on today. Everyone’s been acting weird, and they’re all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff.” “Now, Billy, I’m here to help you. I’m the princi-Pal, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone’s acting so strangely?” “It’s because I don’t know what some stupid Purple Wombat is.” “What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is? That’s it. I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended.” The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him. “Billy!” she called, sobbing, “I was so worried about you! What happened?” “Mom,” Billy cried, “Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal’s office and the principal suspended me, all because I don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!” “What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” Billy’s mother shrieked. “Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!” So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn’t know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened. “Billy,” his father began in that lecturing-father tone, “Your mother says you’ve been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you’ve done?” “Dad, I haven’t done anything! I just don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!” “You…don’t know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!” Billy’s father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way — lying there, crying, wishing he would wake up. Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said: “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy.” Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy.” It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat.” Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a wood. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy.” The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn’t care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy.” Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy.” Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I’m out here, Billy.” It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy.” The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: “Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I’m up here, Billy.” It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn’t know how to swim, so he drowned.

Dave and his new wife had just returned from his honeymoon and was settling down in their new apartment. Coming home from work one night the landlady met Dave in the hallway and said, “I have a couple of extra tickets to a play in town tonight, and I wonder if you and your new bride would like to have them?” “I’ll ask her,” Dave responded. He opened the door to his apartment and called out, “Honey, would you like to see ‘Oliver Twist’ tonight?” “No way!!,” his bride retorted, “If you show me one more trick with that thing, I’m going home to my Mother!”

A little old lady answered a knock on the door one day, only to be confronted by a well-dressed young man carrying a vacuum cleaner. ‘Good morning,’ said the young man. ‘If I could take a couple of minutes of your time, I would like to demonstrate the very latest in high-powered vacuum cleaners.’ ‘Go away!’ said the old lady. ”I’m broke and haven’t got any money!” and she proceeded to close the door. Quick as a flash, the young man wedged his foot in the door and pushed it wide open. ”Don’t be too hasty!” he said. ”Not until you have at least seen my demonstration.” And with that, he emptied a bucket of horse manure onto her hallway carpet. ”Now, if this vacuum cleaner does not remove all traces of this horse manure from your carpet, Madam, I will personally eat the remainder.” The old lady stepped back and said, ”Well let me get you a fork, ’cause they cut off my electricity this morning!

The basketball coach stormed into the university president’s office and demanded a raise right then and there. “Please,” protested the college President, “you already make more than the entire History department.” “Yeah, maybe so, but you don’t know what I have to put up with,” the coach blustered. “Look.” He went out into the hall and grabbed a jock who was jogging down the hallway. “Run over to my office and see if I’m there,” he ordered. Twenty minutes later the jock returned, sweaty and out of breath. “You’re not there, sir,” he reported. “Oh, I see what you mean,” conceded the President, scratching his head. “I would have phoned.”

Wife: Let’s go out and have some fun tonight. Husband: Okay, but if you get home before I do, leave the hallway light on.

A co-worker has stopped acknowledging me in the hallway. Please tell me what I did to make you want to ignore me, so I can do it to others.

Try this: In a crowded hallway, say out loud, “Oh my god look at the blood on her pants.” Whatever girl turns around is on her period..