I dunno, it made me chuckle. Long jokes have this way of pulling you in without you realizing it. They start plain, maybe a conversation, maybe some forgettable errand, but then the teller keeps adding layers—too many layers. Suddenly you’re hearing about a cousin’s neighbor’s side job, or why the bank closes ten minutes early on Thursdays, or how a guy once swore he saw something unbelievable but no one else did. None of it feels like the point, but you keep listening because surely there is a point, right?
That’s the trap. You get invested, you start connecting dots, thinking it’s all building to a twist you’ll never see coming. But it doesn’t tie together. The punchline isn’t crafted, it’s blunt. After all the wandering and detours and wasted patience, the whole thing just crashes into the dumbest, most sudden ending possible.
And in that moment, after all that setup, the only thing left to say is that it came out to about tree fiddy.
Well, then it’s a half bad joke.
I dunno, it made me chuckle. Long jokes have this way of pulling you in without you realizing it. They start plain, maybe a conversation, maybe some forgettable errand, but then the teller keeps adding layers—too many layers. Suddenly you’re hearing about a cousin’s neighbor’s side job, or why the bank closes ten minutes early on Thursdays, or how a guy once swore he saw something unbelievable but no one else did. None of it feels like the point, but you keep listening because surely there is a point, right?
That’s the trap. You get invested, you start connecting dots, thinking it’s all building to a twist you’ll never see coming. But it doesn’t tie together. The punchline isn’t crafted, it’s blunt. After all the wandering and detours and wasted patience, the whole thing just crashes into the dumbest, most sudden ending possible.
And in that moment, after all that setup, the only thing left to say is that it came out to about tree fiddy.