Best New Jokes: September 25, 2005



John thought his life would be more fun if he had a pet, so he went to the pet store and told the owner that he wanted an exotic pet to love.

After looking at all sorts of animals, fish, insects and reptiles, he settled on a lovely centipede that came with a little white box that would be her home. He named her Cecilia.

He decided he would start introducing Cecilia to society, so he asked her, “Would you like to go to church? It’s’ Sunday, and I think you’re going to like my friends.”

But the centipede didn’t answer.

So John waited for a few minutes and decided to ask her one more time. He put his face up against the centipede’s house and shouted, “Hey Cecilia! Would you like to go to church with me and meet my friends?”

A tiny voice came out of the box: “I heard you the first time! Yes. Give me a minute. I’m putting on my shoes.”

Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragonfly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti “Silent Noon”


Bill was sitting at home one evening, when the doorbell rang. When he answered the door, a 6-foot-tall cockroach was standing there. The cockroach immediately punched him between the eyes and scampered off.

The next evening, the doorbell rang again. When Bill answered the door, there was the cockroach. This time, it punched him, kicked him and karate chopped him before running away.

The third evening, the doorbell rang, and when Bill answered the door, the cockroach was there yet again. It leapt at him and stabbed him several times before running off.

Badly injured, Bill managed to crawl to the telephone and summon an ambulance. He was rushed to intensive care, where they managed to pull him through.

The next morning, as the doctor was doing his rounds, he asked Bill what happened.

Bill explained about the 6-foot cockroach’s attacks, culminating in the near fatal stabbing.

The doctor thought for a moment and said, “Yes, there’s a nasty bug going around.

Spin and die,
To live again as butterfly.
Christina Georgina Rossetti “The Caterpillar”


A salesman was traveling through the country side, selling insect repellent. He came to a farmhouse and tried his pitch on the farmer.

“Sir, my bug spray is so good you will never be bitten again. I guarantee it.”

The farmer was dubious. “Young man, I’ll make you a proposition. I’ll tie you out in my cornfield buck naked, covered with that bug spray. If there is not a single bite on you come morning, I’ll buy a whole case from you.”

The salesman was delighted. They went to the field and he stripped. The farmer sprayed him thoroughly with the bug spray and tied him to a stake.

The next morning, the farmer and his family trooped out to the cornfield. Sure enough, the salesman was there, hanging in his bonds, not a single bite on him. Yet he was a total wreck!

Pale, ghastly, haggard, and drawn, but not one bite on him. The farmer was perplexed. “Son,” he said, “Now, you don’t have a bite on you but you look like hell! What the devil happened?”

The salesman looked up through bloodshot eyes and croaked, “Jeezus Christ, Mister, Doesn’t that calf have a mother?”

I always felt that insects are the general rule,
and everything else is a special case.

The butterfly counts
not months but moments,
and has time enough.

Rabindranath Tagore “Stray Birds”


Two roaches were munching on garbage in an alley. “I was in that new restaurant across the street,” said one. “It’s so clean! The kitchen is spotless, the floors are gleaming white. It’s so sanitary the whole place shines.”

“Please,” said the other roach, frowning. “Not while I’m eating!”

To carry a grudge
is like being stung to death by one bee.
William H. Walton


Joan was having a passionate affair with an inspector from a pest-control company.

One afternoon they were carrying on in the bedroom together when her husband, Ted, arrived home unexpectedly.

“Quick,” said Joan to her lover,” into the closet!” and she pushed him in the closet, stark naked.

Ted, however, became suspicious and after a search of the bedroom discovered the man in the closet. “Who are you?” he asked?

“I’m an inspector from Bugs-B-Gone,” said the exterminator.

“What are you doing in there?” Ted asked.

“I’m investigating a complaint about an infestation of moths,” the man replied.

“And where are your clothes?” asked Ted.

The man looked down at himself and said, “Those little bastards.”

God in His wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.
Ogden Nash “The Fly”  

An Insect Poem

A cricket’s ear is in its leg.
A cricket’s chirp is in its wing.
A cricket’s wing can sing a song.
A cricket’s leg can hear it sing.

Imagine if your leg could hear.
Imagine if your ear could walk.
Imagine if your mouth could swing.
Imagine if your arm could talk.

Would everything feel upside down,
And inside out and wrongside through?
Imagine how the world would seem,
If you became a cricket, too. 

Love is like a butterfly,
hold it too tight it will crush,
hold it too loose, it will fly.


Boy Scouts from New York City were sitting around their campfire. One scout said, “We’d better get to bed before the mosquitoes eat us up.”

Later that night, the boy woke up and looked out of his tent. He saw dozens and dozens of fireflies.

Quickly, he woke up his friends and said, “We’d better hide! They’re coming after us with flashlights!”



How strange to learn… A Beetle’s no bug.
But then, a Boll-worm is not really a worm.
These facts are indisputable,
Concerning them science stands firm.

Now, mind. Bugs and Beetles are insects-
And walkingsticks belong to that lot.
But the delicious Snail and the insidious Tick
You can say with assurance, do not.

Ladybugs are Beetles. They defend our plants-
Are urged to fly away home, in story.
But oddly enough, they’re called Ladybirds,
In lands where a truck is a lorry!

Ladybugs keep Aphid destroyers in check.
And good guests – delight us, young and old,
By cozily wintering in our homes-
Flying away, when spring warms the cold.

Male Fireflies never are flies.
Firefly females are insects, not worms.
But glowworm is their familiar name
What a muddle of mistakes in terms!

But, naming most certainly is needed.
How else to tell lilies from lilacs in bloom
Or label, with distaste, the invading creature
That just suffered the SMACK! of your broom.

It’s hard enough to name the new baby,
Especially the dozenth-and-one.
So pity the problems of science
With trillions of fauna under our sun,
Add tiny animals still to discover,
And scholars, keen for a find.

What the caterpillar
calls the end of the world,
the Master calls a butterfly.
Richard Bacht


When the moon shall have faded out from the sky,
and the sun shall shine at noonday a dull cherry red,
and the seas shall be frozen over,
and the icecap shall have crept downward
to the equator from either pole . . .
when all the cities shall have long been dead
and crumbled into dust,
and all life shall be on the last verge of extinction on this globe;
then, on a bit of lichen, growing on the bald rocks beside
the eternal snows of Panama,
shall be seated a tiny insect, preening its antennae
in the glow of the worn-out sun,
the sole survivor of animal life on this our earth
a melancholy bug.

William Jacob Holland “The Moth Book” 1903



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