Three newly convicted men sat side by side on a rattling prison bus, shackled, silent, and staring out at the world they were about to leave behind. The mood was heavy—until one of them decided to lighten it.
The prison had granted each inmate a small mercy: they were allowed to bring one personal item to help pass the endless hours of incarceration.
After a while, the first man broke the silence and turned to the second.
“So,” he asked casually, “what did you bring along?”
The second convict proudly lifted a box onto his lap and opened it just enough to reveal neatly arranged tubes of paint and a handful of brushes.
“Art supplies,” he said with a hopeful smile. “I plan to paint anything and everything I can. Who knows—maybe I’ll become the Grandma Moses of jail.”
He chuckled at his own optimism, then nodded toward the first man.
“What about you? What’s your plan for survival?”
The first convict grinned and pulled out a well-worn deck of cards, flipping it expertly between his fingers.
“Cards,” he said. “Poker, solitaire, gin rummy—heck, I can teach myself a new game every week. I’ll never get bored.”
They both laughed and then noticed the third man.
He hadn’t said a word the entire time. He just sat there, leaning back, smiling quietly to himself like he knew something the others didn’t.
The two men exchanged looks before finally asking,
“Alright, what’s with the grin? What did you bring?”
Without a word, the third man reached into his bag and slowly pulled out a box of tampons, holding it up like a trophy.
The other two stared. Blinked. Stared again.
“Tampons?” one finally asked. “What on earth can you do with those in prison?”
The third man’s grin widened. He pointed to the writing on the side of the box and said confidently,
“Well, according to this, I can go horseback riding, swimming, roller-skating, hiking… looks like I’m gonna stay very busy.”
Later, in a completely different prison, a man was spending his very first night behind bars.
The lights went out, plunging the cell block into darkness. Just as he was drifting toward uneasy sleep, his cellmate walked up to the bars and shouted loudly:
“Number twelve!”
The entire cell block erupted in laughter—hoots, howls, prisoners slapping the walls and shaking their beds.
A few minutes passed. Then another voice echoed through the darkness:
“Number four!”
Once again, the place exploded with laughter.
The new prisoner sat up, confused and a little alarmed.
“What’s going on?” he whispered to his cellmate.
The older prisoner smiled knowingly.
“We’ve all been here a long time,” he explained. “We know all the jokes by heart. So instead of telling the whole joke, we just call out the number.”
The new guy nodded slowly, impressed. Feeling brave, he decided to give it a try.
He walked to the bars, took a deep breath, and shouted:
“Number twenty-nine!”
For a moment, there was silence.
Then the entire cell block lost its mind.
Laughter thundered through the hall—men doubled over, banging on walls, gasping for air, some practically rolling on the floor.
When the laughter finally faded, the stunned newcomer turned to his cellmate.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “Why did that number make everyone laugh so hard?”
The older prisoner wiped tears from his eyes and said,
“Oh… that’s easy.”
He chuckled and added,
“We’d never heard that one before.” 😄
