Funny and Stupid Bathroom Humor

 

 

A few funny bathroom jokes:

 

 

The Lost Scroll of BartholomewThis is an excerpt from a scroll which was uncovered in a recent find near the Dead Sea, which actually has life in it, particularly during the weekends. The date on the scroll is 100 B.C., but some scholars believe the writer, “Bartholomew” left out a zero and it was actually written 1000 B.C. The scroll is attributed to a small desert community which lived in a cave near modern day Damascus, and which followed a charismatic, messianic figure named Jebodiah, whom they referred to as “the Master”, or occasionally as “Jebbie”.

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And it came to pass on that day that Bartholomew was preparing to urinate in the garden. And the Master said unto him, “Halt your flow, Bartholomew!”

And Bartholomew said “Master, it is already so. For my urine sack is shy with you near”.

And the Master looked with compassion upon his disciple and said, “Your great faith can heal you of this affliction. Let me put my hand under your thigh.”

“No Master. Very, very, very truly I say that is really, really not of need. But why must my flow be withheld? Would my urine disgrace this garden?”

“Truly I say unto you, do not urinate upon the young sprouts, for they have not yet the roots to weather its strength. And do not urinate upon the mighty oak, for then your urine’s might will be for naught. And do not urinate upon the wheat, for that is really disgusting. And do not urinate upon any fruit nor vegetable, (except for lima beans which are already an abomination), nor upon any grain, nor upon any soil which may give them rise. And do not urinate upon any animal that is to be slaughtered for eating or for use of its hide, or that might snuggle upon you in your bed.

And do not spill your urine into yonder river, lest your waste become your neighbor’s drink. Nor shall you spill it upon your bed, nor upon your neighbor’s wife. If a final droplet or two doth spilleth upon thy garment, do not be forlorn. For a few droplets upon your loincloth here and there is acceptable, but more than that can create unsightly staining and unpleasant musks which may require pre-soaking.”

And Bartholomew said “Then Master and Commander Jebbie Jebbie, where shall I urinate?”

And the Master said unto him “Must you always look to someone else for answers that lie within your very soul? My beloved disciple, look well inside your depths, and find the answer you seek deep within your own heart. Then tell me what answer you find. Quickly. For I would very much like to hear the answer of where to urinate very, very, very soon.”

And Bartholomew stilled his heart, as the Master had taught him, but found no answer. And so, again he asked, “I am sorry Master, but no answer does arise within. Pray, tell me, where shall I let my urine fly?”

And the Master said, “My faithful disciple. A few moments ago a great vision unveiled itself upon my eyes.”

“Thank you for noticing. But where shall I let my urine fly?”

“This is my vision. Come heed, and listen with both ears. We are to build a special little room, in the center of the house. And we are to put a chair in the middle of the room. But not a dining table chair. Nay. Yet again I say nay. Nor a lounging chair. Nor the kind of chair one might find if one were to find a chair different than the chair of which I speak and shall presently describe. Nay. The chair of which I speak shall be a chair with a large hole in the middle. With very, very few splinters.

The hole shall be large enough to allow the eliminating of bodily waste, yet not so large as to allow portions of ones’ body to fall through or become stuck. It shall be 47 milicubits by 56.5 milicubits, with a slightly oval shape, with the circumference equal to double the length of the horizontal axis divided by the diameter. And we shall put a warm furry mat in front of it, made of sheep skin, to keep our little toes all warm and snugglified. And we shall call this room ‘the room in the center of the house with the chair with the hole in it. Or perhaps ‘the room in which there is a throne within it’”

“How about ‘the throne room’, Master?”

“Ahhh, well said, Bart! You are a word smith, by Grace. You shall take note of all I do and say, so that future generations may love the Spirit that lives thru me so deeply they will argue and sometimes even hurt each other in my name.”

“I will take such note, Master. And I will build you your throne.”

“But wait, there is more. And next to this throne we shall place scrolls with the latest harkings from throughout the province, along with a long, thin, blank scroll, which shall always be replaced the moment it is empty, and shall always be positioned so that the paper cascades forth in front of the scroll, never behind it, which shall be declared blasphemous as well as annoying. And on the back of the chair shall be a frankincense candle, to help prevent embarrassing odors from wafting forward into the house. And let’s also have underneath the incense candle a cute little doily.

Thus is my vision oh Barth. And I shall sit upon this throne every morning, and when it is vacant of my loins, you shall kneel before this throne. Particularly if you partake of too much wine or have some bad potato salad. And when I am finished sitting upon this throne, it shall be yours!
To clean.”

“But Master, what shall we put beneath the chair, to catch that refuse which is released? I do have a large copper goblet, but it is worn and cracked and full of holes. Shall I go look for it?”

“Nay, Bartholomew. yet again, I say nay. Do not search for your holy grail. Go up yonder hill, and fetch a pale of water from the well. Bring it hither, taking care not to drink from the pale once it has been baptized under the throne. And when it becomes nearly full, but not so full there is an issue of unpleasant splash back, you shall dump it.”

“And where shall I dump it Master?”

“Do not dump it upon the young sprouts, for they have not yet the roots to weather its strength. And do not dump it upon the mighty oak, for then your urine’s might will be for naught. And do not dump it upon the wheat, for that is really disgusting. And do not dump it upon any fruit or vegetable (except for lima beans which are already an abomination), or upon any grain, nor upon any soil which may give them rise. Do not dump it upon any animal that is to be slaughtered for eating or for use of its hide, or that might snuggle upon you in bed, or all three.”

“Yes, yes Master, but where shall I dump it?”

“Consider the birds in the air, the squirrels in the trees, and the dogs of your neighbors. Where do they leave their meals’ remains?”

“Most usually upon my chariot and by my front porch.”

“Then take heed of their way, Bartholomew, and do likewise.”

“But master, are you of certainty?”

“Dispell thy doubt in me Barth! Did I not walk on water? Did I not turn water into wine?”

“But master, the lake was frozen. And you added old grapes.”

“Do not let your mind be cluttered with such memories. Nay Nay. Do I not help the blind to speak, the deaf to see, and the dumb to walk again? Trouble yourself with doubt no more. For it is through a non-discerning heart that one returns to the Kingdom. Now, leave me be. For I wish to sit alone in the garden and meditate. Have you a recent news scroll and a nice, soft blank scroll on you?”

“No, I have only the ancient writings of the revered priest Joshua, which has been handed down in my family for generations, and for which I am the sole protector.”

“Then leave it with me and I shall sit and read it, then give it a special blessing and then bury it in a safe place in the garden to free you of this heavy burden. Now, put your hand under my thigh and promise me you will build my throne.”

“Master, I am really, really, really not yet worthy to approach you so near. I may not be that worthy for a very, very, very long time. But I do pledge, from this distance, to go forth and build your throne with great haste.”

“Then go forth, humble Bartholomew, and prepare my throne!”

And Bartholomew tossed him the scroll, then backed away, to leave the Master alone in the garden to meditate.

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Some scholars believe the word “ throne“ should be translated as “reverse pigmentation”. However, this is generally agreed to be ridiculous, and these scholars are largely ignored, and no one even bothers to come to their boring little talks or invite them to scholar parties, which really serves the arrogant little show offs right for beating certain other scholars out of those grants last year.

 

 

Page Topic: Stupid Bathroom Humor