A Few Quick Ones Puns

He had multiple tractors on his farm, tractor posters on his walls, watched documentaries about tractors, in short, his house was full of tractor paraphernalia.

One day, the Bob's wife, Mary was taking a stroll out in the fields, just where he happened to be riding one of his tractors. Bob was gunning it up and down the fields, having a blast. But then he started driving in the direction of his wife. Despite her screams, Bob couldnt hear Mary over the loud engine of his tractor, and ended up unfortunately running her over.

After this, Bob felt guilty about killing his wife. He sold all of his tractors, he took down all of his posters, and threw away all of his tractor merch. He sold his farm and bought a new house in the suburbs to further distance himself from tractors.

After a few years, Bob felt it was time to start dating again, so he started going to his local coffee shop, hoping to find a new girlfriend. Bob was pleased to find the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, so he introduced himself, and they really hit it off. They started going on dates and got to know each other better.

After a few years of dating, Bob felt it was time to propose, so he prepared a beautiful date in the fanciest restaurant in the city. They had a lovely dinner and before they ordered dessert, he decided it was time to propose. But as Bob got the ring box out of his pocket he dropped it, and bending over to pick it up, he knocked his head on the table, knocking a candle over. The candle set fire to the tablecloth and quickly spread to the carpet.

A waiter quickly came up and poured a big jug of water onto the fire in order to put it out, but this caused a plume of smoke to come up, filling the restaurant. Everyone was choking and coughing, so Bob takes a deep breath, sucking in all of the smoke, and runs out of the restaurant. He pokes his head out the door and breathes out, all of the smoke flying away outside. His date is amazed and asked "Wow! how did you do that?"

Bob laughed and said "It's quite simple, I'm an Ex-Tractor Fan"

The first guy answers, "That's easy, we'll catch him fast because he only has one eye!"

The policeman says, "Well...uh...that's because the picture I showed is his side profile."

Slightly flustered by this ridiculous response, he flashes the picture for 5 seconds at the second guy and asks him, "This is your suspect, how would you recognize him?"

The second guy smiles, flips his hair and says, "Ha! He'd be too easy to catch because he only has one ear!"

The policeman angrily responds, "What's the matter with you two?!!? Of course only one eye and one ear are showing because it's a picture of his side profile! Is that the best answer you can come up with?"

Extremely frustrated at this point, he shows the picture to the third guy and in a very testy voice asks, "This is your suspect, how would you recognize him?

He quickly adds, "Think hard before giving me a stupid answer."

The third guy looks at the picture intently for a moment and says, "The suspect wears contact lenses."

The policeman is surprised and speechless because he really doesn't know himself if the suspect wears contacts or not.

"Well, that's an interesting answer. Wait here for a few minutes while I check his file and I'll get back to you on that."

He leaves the room and goes to his office, checks the suspect's file on his computer and comes back with a beaming smile on his face.

"Wow! I can't believe it. It's TRUE! The suspect does, in fact, wear contact lenses. Good work! How were you able to make such an astute observation?"

"That's easy..." the third guy replied. "He can't wear regular glasses because he only has one eye and one ear."

I'll preface this by saying I'm normally not very quick witted and not any good with puns, so I've been severely lacking in getting up to Dad Joke speed while expecting our first child. But I'm pretty happy with this one.

While at the 20 week ultrasound the nurse is going through all the motions and showing us images of the baby.

Nurse: "There's the humerus bone, the little arm"

Me: "It doesn't look very funny."

I got a half chuckle from the nurse, but I don't think my wife heard it.

Oh well, I got a few more months to get it together. 🤪

Edit: Don't know how to spell either apparently.

I watched one of my colleagues one day as he lifted a few rather large and obviously heavy laser printers. He started with a couple of HP printers of some variety and then went for the one I had been waiting for him to lift. He picked up the Brother printer and struggled to lift it onto the printers he already had on his trolley.

Quick as a flash I said to him that he "shouldn't strain so much. The printer's quite light."

He finally got the printer down and looked at me as though I was dumb before making the fateful error in his reply; "It's 35kg. If you think it's so light you move it."

I could only dead-pan him with my reply of "He's not heavy. He's my brother."

I laughed as he tried to punch me. It was well worth it though.

A few years ago a group of researchers was working to find out if the shape of a snail's shell is at all dependent on aerodynamics. One of the ways to test this is to give the snails different shells in different shapes to see how this impacts them.

Obviously, they needed a baseline measure. The researchers decided the baseline--instead of being the shell that came with the snail--should be the snail with no shell.

Many thought that the removal of the shell would allow the snails to move more quickly but the researchers found that when they removed the shells from the snails they became more sluggish.

My wife and I were doing a bit of roleplay in the bedroom. I had just handcuffed her to the bedhead when we heard one of the kids turning the door handle. I quickly threw the covers over the both of us and in walked my 7 year old son. He noticed the handcuffs, went really quiet and had this confused look on his face. After 15 seconds or so he asked my wife why she was handcuffed to the bed. She blushed and had to come up with a lie on the spot. She stammered out that daddy was just practicing with the handcuffs for his new job as a policeman and that my son should just go back into the lounge room and watch some TV.

A few weeks later I was asked to careers day at my son's school. My son stood up with me in front of the class and proudly announced his daddy was a policeman and that I lock up baddies. I didn't want to embarass him so I just played along. It turns out I was the one who was about to be embarassed. One of the kids asked if my son had ever seen me at work. My son said no but that he had seen me practicing using handcuffs on his mom. It went right over the kids heads but the teacher was very amused and couldn't stop giggling. I guess my wife and I would have been the hot topic in the staff room that day.

After a few days of doing this, he realizes he is simply not fit for this type of job. On his final day of trying to chop down trees, he notices an old scrawny man chopping down trees as if he was a woodpecker, the amount of hits he made grew more and more each swing. The first swing was one hit, the next, ten hits, the next one, a hundred hits, and the next one after that, a thousand. He kept swinging until the tree he was swinging at was chopped down. Amazed, the young man walks over to the old man and asks, "Sir, what is your secret, how do you chop them down so quickly?"

The old man turns and says, "It's all about the rhythm." Puzzled by the old man's answer, the young man returned home pondering what he said.

The next morning, he was motivated to keep trying to be a lumberjack. "If an old scrawny man can do it, so can I!" he thought.

So he went back to the forest, and tried to use his advice. Trying to time each swing, he realizes this simply doesn't work. Later in the day, he sees the old man again, comes up to him, and asks, "I tried to time my swings, but it does no more than just chopping normally. How do you do it?"

"You can't just make up any old rhythm and follow it, you have to find a very specific one," he says, "you have to find the Logger-rhythm."

Back a few decades, I was working in a program with a local college in the Middle East.

The name of the program for ExPats has the clever acronym of "IDEA" (hey, I said it was clever); which stands for "Inter-Departmental Educational Adjunct". It's interdepartmental because my particular specialty not only covers field geology but also paleontology and a bit of archeology thrown in for good measure. Everyone hopes to have a good IDEA...

ahem...

Well, we saddle up and head for the Dune Sea out in the west of the country, where the Precambrian, Cambrian, Silurian, Cretaceous, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and Holocene crop out and access is relatively easy and non-injurious.

Well, we caravan out, some 30 Land Cruisers, Nissan patrol, and the odd Mitsubishi Galloper strong. We all get our maps, compasses and split up into 5 or 6 special interest groups ("SIG's"); where each IDEA has his own GPS and LIDAR laser ranging apparatus. Reason being, that there are very few benchmarks out in the desert, and even those are constantly at the mercy of the shifting and ever-blowing sands.

Since we're split into groups and at any one time, ranging up to and including some 50 km2, when a real find is located, a device called the "DIME" (Digital-Interface Monitor Encoder) is attached and programmed into the GPS for location later; it is a digital sort of low-frequency transponder, developed from technology used by offshore drillers and jacket setters where benchmarks are even more transitory.

The way it works is rather simple. When something is to be marked for later retrieval, a series of wooden posts are pounded in a triangular manner around the find and the DIME is set, programmed with the GPS and attached to one or more of the posts.

That's the theory, at least.

Everything works well, especially all the hardened electronics and computer gizmos, but attaching the DIME to the stakes is the real problem. It can't be nailed, screwed or fastened with any sort of metal contrivance as that farkles the magnetic field and causes all sorts of goofy spurious signals. Zip ties don't last long in the heat and duct tape is right out. Many sites have been lost to the shifting sands this way.

Velcro doesn't work too well, as the sand fills the hooks of the receiving piece of velcro and soon renders it useless. String or fishing line work, but that's temporary (they melt). Glue or mastic are out as these are supposed to be temporary. Even plastic sleeves don't work due to the heat out

Being tired and weary, the lawyer-onion isn't sure whether to go, but decides he needs cheering up.

So he dresses smartly, puts on his favorite aftershave and heads over to his friend's.

He gets to the party to find it quite a packed affair and heads over to the bar - fighting through crowds of reveller-onions - to get a drink.

As he gets to the bar, he notices in one corner a slightly out-of-place female onion.

She looks a bit sad and being the compassionate onion that he is, he heads over to talk to her.

This is quickly affirmed as a good move, as they hit it off immediately; she was abandoned by her friends shortly after arriving and had been minding her own business ever since, but over a night of drinks and talking, they quickly fall into an infatuation and soon end up spending an oniony night of passion together.

When they awake in the morning, they don't find it awkward and a steady relationship between the two is struck.

This lasts a good while, having its ups and downs like any college relationship, but eventually the day comes when they both graduate.

The two couldn't be happier!

They both get jobs close to one another and move into an apartment together.

One day, the partner-onion is anxiously awaiting the lawyer-onion at home.

She's been ill all day and checking has confirmed her suspicions.

She tearfully - and joyfully - breaks the news to the lawyer-onion; they're going to have a tiny baby-onion together.

A shallot, if you will.

A few days later, this prompts the lawyer-onion to propose to his heretofore girlfriend-onion.

They are soon wed, having a fantastic wedding-day and husband and wife-onions are on top of the world.

The day comes of the birth and no complications - a tiny, healthy baby onion is born to two proud parents.

Seeing this little bundle of oniony love in their arms causes them to fall deeper in love than ever.

Over the next few years, husband-and-wife-onions' lives are fantastic.

He's prospering at work, she's really enjoying taking some time to raise the baby-onion and over time the baby-onion grows into a hale and hearty toddler-onion, who then becomes a child-onion.

One day, the idyll of the onions' lives is shattered when tragedy strikes.

The lawyer-onion (now a partner-onion in a prestigious law firm due to chance and hard work) is at work, and mother-onion is washing dishes and watching her child play in the yard.

She glances away to take another plate and turns her vision back to

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

Once upon a time there were three little pigs, Pork Chop, Hambone, and Bacon.

The boys lived at home with their mother. One day their mother said, “I no longer have enough food to feed you boys, you need to go out on your own and find your fortunes.”

Not wanting to upset their mother they left the house together to seek their fortunes.

Several miles into their journey Bacon, the little pig everyone liked best, said, “Let’s build our houses here! This seems like a great place to start making our fortunes.”

Pork Chop and Hambone agreed. So they all began building their houses.

Pork Chop, the laziest of the bunch, decided to build his house out of straw, which he apparently stole from a nearby field. It was not a very sturdy building material, but Pork Chop didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play all day, and he didn’t want to spend too much time building.

Hambone was willing to work a bit harder and he decided to build his house out of sticks which he procured by de-limbing every tree within a 300 meter radius of their homestead.

Hambone and Pork Chop were happy. Now all they had to do was to play and sleep the rest of the day.

Now Bacon was a hard worker. He knew that his brothers had used bad materials and shoddy construction methods and he wanted to build the best house he could. He found several tons of bricks stacked in neatly ordered pallets in the forest which he decided to use for his building material. It took him several days, but when he was done Bacon had the best house on the homestead.

The next day a wolf, Scott Howard, happened upon the pig brothers and their new homestead. He spied the straw house and smelled Pork Chop inside and began to think to himself that Pork Chop would make a mighty fine meal, so Scott went and knocked on the door.

Scott said, “Little Pig! Little Pig! Let me in!”

Pork Chop replied, “No way José! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”

Scott, undeterred by the reply says, “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crappy straw house to the ground!”

Scott began to huff and puff. He was evidently having some sort of asthma attack, but after a few tugs from his handy dandy rescue inhaler, he was able to muster enough wind to blow Pork Chops straw house to the ground.

Pork Chop narrowly escaped Scott’s massive jaws. Scared, and now homeless, Pork Chop ran for the nearest shelter he could see. Hambone’s house.

Scott, undeterred, chased Pork Chop to his new hiding place. Scott was very pleas

Once upon a time there was a pirate captain who was the most amazing best captain a crew could ever ask for. His crew loved him more than anything and would do absolutely anything for him.

One day as they were sailing, a crew member In the crows nest shouts, “one ship off the port side!” Immediately the captain yells at his crew, “Men! Bring me my red shirt!”

Slightly confused, the men hesitate for a second and then hurry off to bring the captain his red shirt. Amazingly they win the battle!

The men are so happy and thankful their captain brought them safely through the battle they don’t even care why the captain wanted his red shirt.

A few months of sailing some more, again the man in the crows nest yells, “Two ships off the port side!” Quickly the captain screams, “Men! Bring me my red shirt!” The crew doesn’t hesitate this time to get him his red shirt and what do you know? They win this battle too!!

The crew is astounded at their captains awesomeness!!! They honestly could not find anyone better. This time though the crew stops a moment and asks the captain, “Why do you always have us bring you your red shirt?”

The captain replies, “Well men, if I get stabbed the blood will blend into my red shirt and it will look like I’m not hurt so that you will all fight as hard as if I were still alive.”

The men can’t believe what they hear! How could they be so lucky as to have a captain so incredibly smart and courageous??!!

Two seconds later, “TWENTY SEVEN SHIPS OFF THE PORT SIDE!!!!!!!”

Calmly, with an even tone, the captain says, “Men, bring me my brown pants.”

After a couple hours, the guard on duty steps away to use the bathroom.

The one prisoner says: "Quick, this is our chance to escape. We only have a few minutes so have to work together. You rip bedsheets into strips and I'll tie them into a rope, then we can climb down through the window.

The other agrees, "Got it. I sheet, you knot."

A few years ago, my dad decided to take my younger sister, my girlfriend and me to the Philadelphia Zoo. We were just walking in among a crowd of people and my dad noticed there were some construction workers on a roof of one of the buildings in the zoo. Almost immediately, he pointed up to them and said, very loudly, "Hey look! There's a flock of Homo sapiens!" All of the kids and some of the adults in the surrounding area quickly looked up. I even heard one kid ask his mom what a Homo sapien was. My pops was pretty proud of himself for that one.

As a Boy Scout, we would camp a lot and go on hikes.

One night, we had to do a night hike, alone, for a merit badge. I had left the campsite about an hour earlier and a terrible storm rolled in. The sky opened up and the ground was quickly saturated. I tried to continue my hike for another few minutes, but it got cold and I was chilled and soaked to the bone, so I decided to try to head back to camp.

Lightning was starting to crackle above me, so I thought I should try to take a shortcut to make my hike back quicker. I pulled out my compass and found my direction, but the rain made it impossible to see more than five feet in front of me.

I was looking down at my compass, not paying any attention to where I was going, and suddenly felt weightless. The feeling didn't last long as I thumped down on slippery earth a second later.

I had fallen onto a ledge on the side of a rather steep cliff, the bottom of which was at least fifty feet down.

I sat there, contemplating on how to get back up this cliff as water rolled over the edge ten feet above me. There was nothing to grab onto to pull myself up. I was stuck there.

After a few minutes, I noticed the little ledge I was standing on was slowly getting smaller. The water was coming down so hard it was eroding the tiny bit of safety I had.

I dug through my pockets, thinking maybe I had something, anything, to help me out of my precarious situation. All I had was my compass, a cough drop, and a match. I was screwed.

So, I sat there, watching the edge of the ledge I was on get closer and closer to my feet, when suddenly I felt something pushing on my back.

I turned slightly and saw a wooden box sticking out of the cliff behind me. It was working its way out of the side, the rain surely helping it along. I tried to move away from it, but the ledge wasn't very wide and the box kept coming out, pushing me farther to the weak and failing edge.

As more of the box came out, to my horror, I realized it was a coffin! I had no idea how old it was, but it looked rather rotten. All I could think of was being pushed off this ledge, and the rotten coffin breaking and dropping a skeleton onto my broken and battered body at the bottom.

The coffin crept closer, my foot began to slip. I grabbed onto a root that was sticking out of the cliffside and dug in my pocket once more.

I hurriedly tore the wrapper off the cough drop and stuck it in my mouth. It stopped the coffin.

This joke has been told to me

when there was a terrible accident. The fire in his forge had gone out of control and set fire to the shop. The blacksmith nearly lost his life. He was bedridden for many months and relied on the help of his children and grandchildren to feed him, bathe him, and take care of all of his needs. Eventually he was able to get back on his feet, though his outlook on life had turned quite grim. He was now able to take care of himself, but he had lost much of his strength and dexterity from the injuries he sustained and he was unable to practice his trade. He fell into a deep depression and he spent most of his days sitting at home in front of the fireplace gazing into the flames, longing for the days when his strong hands could grasp a hammer and strike a hot piece of iron, slowly forging it into a beautiful piece of work.

One evening when the old man was sitting in front of the fire, he heard a knock at the door. It was his granddaughter, whom he hadn't seen in many months. She had overheard her father talking to her mother about how her grandfather was slowly slipping away into depression and hopelessness and she wanted to help. To the old man's surprise, she had brought him a puppy. "I thought that since you're always here all by yourself that you might want someone you keep you company," the granddaughter said. The old man's eyes welled up with tears and the little puppy instantly jumped into his arms and began licking the tears from his face. The old man and his granddaughter spent the next several hours sitting on the floor of his house watching the puppy chase around a rubber ball, bouncing, jumping, panting, and licking. In that short time, the old man had made complete turnaround from being sad, lonely, and hopeless, to smiling from ear to ear, full of joy with his new-found companion. As the hours grew late and the puppy grew tired, the granddaughter said "Well Opa, I'm glad you like your puppy, but it's late and I should be heading home. By the way, what are you going to call him?" "Life," said the old man, "because he has given me a new meaning and joy to mine." The granddaughter kissed her grandfather on the cheek, wished him goodnight, and she left.

Many years passed and all the while, the old man and his little dog were inseparable. Everywhere the old man went, Life was always with him whether it was the post office, the grocery store, and even when the old man went to the barber shop, the little dog would sit patiently until the last hair on

and today, we were playing a game of "Yes, Let's!" If you're unfamiliar, that's a group improv exercise where one person says "Let's do a thing!" and everybody else replies "Yes, let's!" and then proceeds to act out the scene. After acting out said scene, somebody freezes, then everybody freezes, and then someone else starts one.

In this case, it was "Let's go to a Michael Jackson tribute concert!" Now, we'd just been coached to assume distinct roles in an attempt to construct a coherent narrative, and so I, as an awkward, scrawny, blond white man, slipped effortlessly into the role of a shitty Michael Jackson impersonator. And I must have been doing something right, because the rest of the group quickly formed a scene as the audience, security, and crew, and stupidity ensued as I sucked at being Michael Jackson for all I was worth.

A few people started heckling, and then one of the audience members barged past security and mimed punching me in the head, whereupon I dramatically spun and dropped to the floor with a resounding THUD (knowing how to fall is a useful skill). The reaction was about a third laughs, a third stage-gasps, and a third just confusion. But I did get a few compliments after the exercise on my impression and my theatrics.

So I'd say that was a pretty big hit.

A classic  Abbott and Costello routine, from their first movie,  One Night in the Tropics, where  Bud Abbott shows that he’s not above running a quick scam on his friend,  Lou Costello, in order to make a few dollars.

Allow me to regale you with a couple tales illustrating my late dad's sense of humor. Last names faked because I'm not that stupid.

.

(1). At a routine PTA meeting about me in my Georgia school, everyone found themselves packed into a hot and stuffy room waiting for the boredom to end. Shoulder to shoulder fun, can you picture it?

My dad lets one rip. It's loud, smelly, and echoes. The room falls silent as the fart invites itself unfavorably to the nostrils of those in attendance.

He turns to my mom and with his best shocked face says, "... Patty!"

I like to think he slept on the couch that night.

.

(2). During my old man's wait for us to arrive at the new home he had bought, he had to deal with ongoing construction and roughed it at a hotel for a few nights. He was a retired Master Chief Machinist's Mate, so cramped quarters reminded him of the sub's nuclear engine room. No biggie.

An interview comes up for a civilian nuclear power plant nearby, and before you know it my dad's sitting before these stuffy, serious, wrinkly old board members and managers, having his (mostly military) resume picked through.

"Well Mister Smith, we're impressed. Twenty two years is no small amount of time to dedicate to the service. But do you feel you're qualified to operate and audit a civilian fission power plant?"

My dad thinks on it for a second.

"Well no, sir, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night."

He got the job immediately.

(For those needing the reference)

.

Thanks for caring to read. I miss him a lot and this subreddit always reminds me of his sense of dry, quick humor. Take care!

When they arrived, a cab driver greeted them at the airport. "What should we do on our first day here," the father asked his son, excitedly. The driver interjected, "Well, if you're not natives, I'd suggest the roller coaster that teaches your or language." Confused, the father and son look at one another then back at their guide. "Trust me," he told them, "It's guaranteed or your money back." Having no plans and now both understandably intrigued, the pair agreed. When they arrived at the roller coaster, they were amazed to behold the giant steel skeleton of the most intricate ride they'd ever seen. It had loops, helixes, corkscrews and drops more terrifying than anything they'd ridden back home. The son quickly rescinded his consent and turned you guys father. "There's no way I'm getting on that thing. You go first," he said, "Then you can tell me if it's worth it." Not wanting to seem a coward, the father accepted. Stepping into the first car, he seated himself. As the attendant approached to check his shoulder restraint, her couldn't help but ask, "So how exactly am I supposed to learn an entire language from a roller coaster?" The attendant smiled and replied simply, "You'll see." Anticipation turned to unease as the cars lurched upward towards the first drop. The seconds felt like hours as the car climbed higher and higher, clicking steadily while the chain pulled it skyward. As the nose of the car tipped downward and he could see the enormous drop below, his inner fear turned verbal. Without thinking he screamed, "minä kuolen!" As he rounded the first turn and into an inverted twist, he debut another exclamation well inside and burst forth. "naida!" He screamed as the ride continued. A few minutes and many foreign-tongued exclamations later, he found himself back at the station trying to catch his breath with the smiling attendant removing his restraints. His ran up to his son and declared, "It really works! I'm not sure how, but it really works!" "How was it?" the son asked unimpressed. "It was a wild ride from start to Finnish." "The son smiled weakly. "Yeah , the cabbie stole our luggage."

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

There was a little boy who absolutely loved tractors, so for his 3rd birthday, his father bought him a little toy one. The boy thought this was the best toy he had ever gotten, and ignored all his other gifts to focus on the tractor, pushing it around the lounge whenever he got the chance, making tractor noises etc.

As the boy grows a little bit older, he comes to his 10th birthday, when his dad says "Alright son, you're a little older now, so here you go" before giving him a push-along ride-on tractor for their backyard. The boy thinks this is even better than his now quite old toy tractor, and is taking days off school and everything just to ride around the house and neighbourhood on his push-along tractor.

He gets a little older again, and lo and behold, it's now his 18th birthday. His dad comes up to him during the party and says "Ok son, you're a man now, so here you go" before unveiling a fully functional tractor for his son. "Wow, thanks Dad, this is amazing!" says the son, before taking it for a quick test drive. The tractor becomes his main transport, as he goes to the grocery store and just generally cruises in his brand new tractor.

He decides to take the tractor on it's first proper outing, and goes into the middle of nowhere, with no cell service or house to be seen for miles, and the tractor of course breaks down. It takes him a while to get in touch with AAA and his Dad to come and help him out, so he decides after that experience that maybe it would be a better idea to invest in a car than a tractor after all.

Lo and behold, a few years later, the now adult son is driving down the same road in his new car, although there's now a house there that is engulfed in flames! A lady comes out, screaming "Help! Help! Call 911, my baby is trapped inside!" The man simply stops and says "It's ok, mam, I've got this." He takes in a massive gulp of air, and the entire fire just disappears! The lady says "Wow, that's amazing! How did you do that?!" before the man responds with "Well, you see mam, I'm an ex tractor fan."

Today in class someone asked my English teacher why he never turned the lights on in class. He jokingly responded "I never turn the lights on, note at home either, I always sit at home in the dark"

A few people chuckled, but then he responded seriously: "I never turn on the lights at school. At home I do though, however not on my bedroom. You see, when I stand like this (and then he faced towards the girl who asked him the question) I have a big window in my back." To which I quickly responded "What? A window in your back? I have mine in a wall."

Not a lot of people heard it, but one guy laughed out really loud, and a classmate just rolled his eyes and was like "dude.."

So the bartender was stacking a few shot glasses and knocked one over and it broke. A shard landed on the arm of a guy sitting by me. We told him about it as she was was cleaning up so he wouldn't cut himself. The bartender asks "what have I done?". I quickly replied "you just sharded" (sharted). Groans and shots ensued.

The first guy answers, "That's easy, we'll catch him fast because he only has one eye!"

The policeman says, "Well...uh...that's because the picture I showed is his side profile."

Slightly flustered by this ridiculous response, he flashes the picture for 5 seconds at the second guy and asks him, "This is your suspect, how would you recognize him?"

The second guy smiles, flips his hair and says, "Ha! He'd be too easy to catch because he only has one ear!"

The policeman angrily responds, "What's the matter with you two?!!? Of course only one eye and one ear are showing because it's a picture of his side profile! Is that the best answer you can come up with?"

Extremely frustrated at this point, he shows the picture to the third guy and in a very testy voice asks, "This is your suspect, how would you recognize him?

He quickly adds, "Think hard before giving me a stupid answer."

The third guy looks at the picture intently for a moment and says, "The suspect wears contact lenses."

The policeman is surprised and speechless because he really doesn't know himself if the suspect wears contacts or not.

"Well, that's an interesting answer. Wait here for a few minutes while I check his file and I'll get back to you on that."

He leaves the room and goes to his office, checks the suspect's file on his computer and comes back with a beaming smile on his face.

"Wow! I can't believe it. It's TRUE! The suspect does, in fact, wear contact lenses. Good work! How were you able to make such an astute observation?"

"That's easy..." the third guy replied. "He can't wear regular glasses because he only has one eye and one ear."

After a few days of doing this, he realizes he is simply not fit for this type of job. On his final day of trying to chop down trees, he notices an old scrawny man chopping down trees as if he was a woodpecker, the amount of hits he made grew more and more each swing. The first swing was one hit, the next, ten hits, the next one, a hundred hits, and the next one after that, a thousand. He kept swinging until the tree he was swinging at was chopped down. Amazed, the young man walks over to the old man and asks, "Sir, what is your secret, how do you chop them down so quickly?"

The old man turns and says, "It's all about the rhythm." Puzzled by the old man's answer, the young man returned home pondering what he said.

The next morning, he was motivated to keep trying to be a lumberjack. "If an old scrawny man can do it, so can I!" he thought.

So he went back to the forest, and tried to use his advice. Trying to time each swing, he realizes this simply doesn't work. Later in the day, he sees the old man again, comes up to him, and asks, "I tried to time my swings, but it does no more than just chopping normally. How do you do it?"

"You can't just make up any old rhythm and follow it, you have to find a very specific one," he says, "you have to find the Logger-rhythm."