A Dark Room Puns

…your wife will get up, switch on the light and ask you why the fuck are you screaming at that time in the night ?

Apparently they enjoy dim sums in the morning

The answer is almost always in the negative. (Yes, it's a bad pun--enough to make you shutter.)

• "Can't talk, busy camping," replied Tom, intent.
• "The French don't deserve our thanks," said Tom mercilessly.
• "Haven't you heard me singing in church?" Tom inquired.
• "I'll win this tennis game if I get one more point, " Tom deduced.
• "I didn't eat my T-bone tonight," said Tom mistakenly.
• "So you're asking about my mink coat," Tom inferred.
• "I'm wearing a watch around my wrist," said Tom with abandon.
• "I'm the most important salmon vendor," said Tom selfishly.
• "I was correct the first three times, and I am correct now," said Tom forthrightly.
• "Castration is reversible," Tom remembered.
• "I brought the dessert," said Tom piously.
• "I command my own private army," said Tom maliciously.
• "I'll order the same meat as last time," Tom revealed.
• "I've never swum in Egypt's longest river," said Tom in denial.
• "Et tu?" asked Tom brutally.
• "That's women for you," said Tom dismissively.
• "I'll have a bowl of Chinese soup," said Tom wantonly.
• "I eat everything," said Tom in jest.
• "I gave you your freedom, and I can take it away," said Tom deliberately.
• "Maybe if I rub this lamp something good will happen," said Tom ingeniously.
• "I'm never taking an Uber again," Tom derided.
• "That dog is a mongrel," Tom muttered.
• "It's too bad Babe isn't on our team," said Tom ruthlessly.
• "Maybe I should stop using worms to catch fish... or maybe not," Tom debated.
• "Hemingway is my favorite author," said Tom earnestly.
• "This drumming is too easy," said Tom without missing a beat.
• "This is a frozen dessert,” I screamed.
• "Now I have TWO duck feathers", Tom doubled down.
• "She would never answer her phone the first time, you always had to hang up once," Tom recalled.
• "Two plus five is seven,” Tom added.
• "I only have Diamonds, Clubs and Spades," said Tom heartlessly.
• "It's okay, the PlayStation still works," Tom consoled.
• "Capital punishment is mostly used on the lower classes," said Tom with poor execution.
• "Where are all of my old board games?" asked Tom cluelessly.
• "I might be acquitted," said Tom without conviction.
• "I've never dyed my hair red, but I'll try it," said Tom gingerly.
• "Ugh! I need to shave again," Tom bristled.
• "Whale hunting makes me so sad," Tom blubbered.
• "I'll quit smoking marijuana right now!" said Tom bluntly.
• "I like hot dogs more than hamburgers," said Tom frankly.
• "I signed it twice," Tom remarked.
• "I received a letter to take my car in for repair," Tom recalled.
• "I hate pale ale," sai

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

I am a software engineer, and our project manager asked why she was always the only one with her camera on in meetings. I said well I am in a dark and messy room so I would rather not share that state. She queried why my room was dark, and I said "because bugs are attracted to light"

One cold winter's morning he was walking along a country road, when he heard a cry for help from a nearby lake.

He turned to see a little girl struggling in the broken ice in the middle of the lake. She'd been skating and had fallen into the icy water. Without a moment's hesitation the tramp ran onto the ice and slipped and slided over to the little girl. He managed to pull her out without breaking the ice further and he carried her back to the road.

He took off his coat and wrapped the little girl in it and began looking for a car to flag down. A few moments later a huge chauffeur-driven limo pulled up, and who stepped out but the little girl's father - the mayor of the nearby town and a multi-millionaire.

"How can I ever thank you sir?" says the father after putting his daughterinto the warmth of the limo.

"Just name your price - I'm a wealthy man."

"Ahem, well ..." stammered the tramp "...eh I'm a little short of cash, perhaps you could help me out"

"Certainly" says the girl's father and he pulls out his wallet.

"Oh dear" says the father, "I don't carry much cash with me, I only have ten dollars - but come home with me and I'll get more from the safe"

"No! No!" says the tramp, "Why ten dollars is more money than I've seen in my whole life - that will be plenty".

"Well, if you insist" says the father - "now what will you do with your money?"

"Oh that's easy" says the tramp "I've not had a rest in 20 years. I think I'll buy myself a holiday"

"Well good luck" says the father, and he gets into the car and signals his chauffeur to drive home.

"Ten Dollars" thinks the tramp, "I'm rich! I'm rich!", and off he goes to the town, to buy himself a holiday.

He finds a travel agent, walks in - much to the disgust of the staff - and goes up to the desk.

"I'll have one holiday please!"

"Ahem, which holiday would sir like" asked the girl at the desk, forcing a smile.

"Oh, any holiday I don't mind" replied the tramp.

"Well how much money does sir have to spend on sir's holiday?"

"Oh lots - anything up to ten dollars"

"TEN DOLLARS!! You'll never get a holiday for ten dollars" says the girl incredulously.

"Oh dear" said the tramp, "and I was so looking forward to a holiday - I'll probably never get another chance - isn't there anything you can do?"

"Well I don't think so sir, but hold on and I'll check"

The girl goes into the back of the shop, and searches in the deepest, dustiest filing drawers she can find. There - to her amazement -

His best friend, Roy, was known around town for having an adventurous streak that a small town just couldn't satisfy. Roy yearned to travel the world, to rub shoulders with the well-to-do, and to squeeze every drop of excitement he could out of life. While most young folk in town, my grandpa included, were resigned to their lot, Roy was driven by his dream. He worked incredibly hard, taking every hired-hand and handy-man job he could find. He would walk five miles each way to clean a gutter if there was a nickel to be made. His hometown was always spotless, because Roy would pick up every glass bottle he saw to get the deposit back, and every can he found would get turned in for recycling.

The years stretched on. Grandpa settled down with his high school sweetheart in a one-room cottage and had my dad, and not much else. Roy kept hurrying from one job to the next, never spending a dime on a date. Everyone would just roll their eyes and quietly gossip about how poor Roy's obsession was robbing him of a real life.

One day, Roy showed up at Grandpa's house, all decked out in a brand new khaki safari kit, complete with helmet, binoculars, and elephant gun, and announced that he had finally saved up enough for passage to Africa to go big game hunting. He was especially proud of the fine leather boots he was sporting. "Indestructable" he called them, totally impenetrable to water, wind, and snow. No trench-foot for him while he tracked rhinos on the savannah!

Grandpa congratulated Roy on his achievement and wished him bon voyage. Over the next three months, the town felt Roy's absence. Litter lay where it fell, gutters overflowed in heavy rain, small-time farmers rose that bit earlier and bedded that bit later to cover the work Roy used to help with. Of course, the gossipers just turned their chat from how Roy needed a dose of reality to how thoughtless it was of him to just up and leave. Most folks were convinced Roy was gone for good. After all, how could he come back from such a high-falutin' adventure to his tiny, no-account hometown?

But return Roy did, and everyone crowded around at the bar to hear his account of his safari. To their surprise, Roy told them that, for all the time he had been away, he only bagged one trophy that was currently on a slow boat back. It turned out, once Roy got a close-up look at the elephants, rhinos, giraffes, gazelles, and all the fine animals of the African savannah, he lost all heart for hunting. He just couldn't imagi

So we’ve got this FisherPrice Projector Mobile thing that projects a rotating imaging onto the ceiling. (Very nice little thing, highly suggest for babies)

Anyways... We’ve got it set up in the living room and Wife, Son, and I are laying on the ground in the dark watching it go round and round. It’s Jungle Themed, so a lion, elephant giraffe, tiger, a few monkeys, and so on...

We’re pointing out the different animals to Son and he’s repeating a few words here and there... When he starts waving and saying “Hi” as a new animal rotates in.

So Wife goes, “Here comes the Lion. Can you say Hi to the Lion?”

And Son waves and says “Hi!” and giggles.

Wife: “And there’s an Elephant! Can you Hi to the Elephant?”

Son: “Hi... toots”

Wife: “Yes! Toots! And here’s the next animal. Can you wave to the tiger?”

Son: “Hi!”

Wife: “That’s the ‘Hi of the Tiger’”

Me: “... 💀 💀 💀”

Wife: “You love me... Look Son! A Zebra!”

Here's a joke my dad told me. Sorry if you've heard it, but I found it hilarious, and I think you might enjoy it.

In a small town in the suburbs, there was a small family of balloons. There was a mummy balloon, a daddy balloon, and a small child balloon. Every night the boy would sleep between his parents, but his father had had enough.

"son, I know you love sleeping between us, but you're getting a bit too old for it., " the father said. "You're nearly 8, you're a big boy, and your mother and I think you should sleep in your own bed from now on. You can stay tonight but starting tomorrow we want you in your own bed. Do you understand?"

"Yeah dad, I understand..." the boy said with a maudlin tinge to his voice.

"okay son, I love you."

"love you too dad"

The next night the boy tried sleeping in his own bed, but there was a storm outside. It was a dark, ominous storm - the kind of storm that sounds like a cataclysm for the end of the world.

The boy was scared, so he went to sleep in his parents room. However when he tried to squeeze between them, he found he didn't fit. He felt defeated. He felt scared. He felt alone.

But then an idea struck him. He decided he'd just let a little bit of air out of his father. He tried to squeeze in again, but had no such luck. So he let a little bit of air out of his mother. He tried again. Still no luck. Finally, he decided to let some air out of himself. Success! He squeezed in tightly and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning his parents were furious. His father was feeling particularly angry, and screamed at his son.

"son, I told you not to sleep in our room. I told you to sleep in your own bed! Didn't I say that Hun?"

"yes dear," the mother said, feeling slightly deflated.

"so son, what do you have to say for yourself?" the father asked in anger.

"it was dark and stormy and..." the boy tried to spit out.

"I don't care son!" the father interrupted. "you can't keep doing this! I'm very disappointed. You've let me down, you've let me down, but worst of all..."

There are three classes of cheerios, the lower class (plain ol' cheerios), the middle class cheerios (frosted), and the elite class (honey nut). One soggy morning in Seattle, a plain cheerio awoke in his single room apartment. He looked out at the still sleepy city, blanketed in a mist of rain. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes on, this would be the day. He stood propped against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. "God I have got to stop this habit." He thought to himself. Glancing back and forth at the bustle of cheerios, he saw her. She looked about 25, devastatingly gorgeous, and he could smell the honey from where he stood. "Excuse me ma'am," his voice quivered, "I - I think you might be the most beautiful cheerio I have ever seen." She smiled and her otherwise golden brown face grew red. " This is a long shot, but will you marry me?' She was obviously caught off guard by this, but her red lips formed the word, "Yes." They raced through the morning mist of the city, and arrived at her fathers house. The cheerio bent down in front of her father. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing in marrying your daughter" "No! You are a regular cheerio and my daughter needs a high quality honey nut" he snapped. "But sir." "No means no damnit!" "Sir this is very unrea-" "You come back a honey nut and you'll have my blessing, my daughter is not about to marry a low life like you." The cheerio sprinted home, tears streaming down his face. He fumbled against the lock and sprawled out on his bed. When he awoke it was early, his sheets had a dark silhouette from his wet jacket. He sat up and lit a cigarette. "Damn." he sighed to himself. Walking in front of his mirror, he noticed something different. His body was frosted! He had become a frosted cheerio! He darted out the door without shoes, reaching the honey nut household in no time at all. He banged on the door, and the beauty's father answered. "Sir I am a changed cheerio! I'm frosted!" he exclaimed. Her father had a stern look on his face. "You think you are any better? The dirt on my boots are worth more than you." he hissed. The old honey nut slammed the door on the young frosted. He heard the deadbolt click. The newly frosted cheerio didn't take the same way home. He stood on the edge of a bridge, feeling the cool autumn wind on his sugar coated skin. Was he really going to go through with this? Was it worth it? No he was a frosted cheerio now. He couldn't get the girl, but he was a changed cheerio. He

You awake in a room, it is dark, you are sitting in a fold up chair. You look down and feel your belly, it is rumbling. You look to the wall behind you and turn on the light. You turn back around only to see 3 dozen Dads telling jokes to each other and howling in laughter. You push through the crowd until you find your own father. Once you find him you tell him you're hungry. Immediately every dad in the crowd looks at you and simultaneously chants four words, "Hi Hungry, I'm Dad".

Number one:

Kid: "The sun sure is warm today."

Dad: "I'm pretty sure the sun is warm every day."

Number two:

Upon walking into a dark room I say, "Hey, dad, do you want me to hit the lights?"

He responds, "Nah, i'd prefer you just turn them on. It might hurt to hit them."

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

They snuck from their beds in the middle of the night and met in the gloomy darkness in front of the house, shivering in the cold.

The first boy said in a loud whisper, "You guys bring anything?" He slid a gun out of his pocket. The second boy nodded and revealed a knife. The third boy pulled out a flashlight.

"You didn't bring a weapon?" the first boy asked. He shrugged and replied, "Sorry". And as if to prove it, he turned his pockets out to show nothing but stray lint and a pack of cough drops.

They crept in. The door shut behind them. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. The flash light clicked on. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door on the other side, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a dead body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They found a fully set, ornate dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal goblets, pitchers and silverware adorned the table. Spiders crept over ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hel