Evenes (village) Puns

Because Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.

(For reference, the show's most iconic line is "I burn for you".)

It all started last night when I proposed we make butter. She thought that would be time-consuming, but I said I'd do it because "I churn for you."

She later retaliated by saying she was going to Switzerland because "I Bern for you".

I fired back that evening by rotating my body in bed. "I turn for you."

Just now she said we should take a pottery class. Then she laid it on me with "I urn for you".

But I was ready. "That sounds expensive, but don't worry - I earn for you."

So yeah countless villages have been ravaged and cities destroyed in our conquest. I'll keep you updated.

He tried everything: rodents, small animals, and even cuts from larger animals, but it wouldn't eat.

As a last resort, he offered a virgin, but still the snake wouldn't eat. So, he called up the village's wise man.

Without hesitation, the wise man put two pieces of bread on the woman, and the snake ate her whole.

When Attila asked why, the wise man responded,

"Thine anaconda don't want nun unless you've got buns, hun!"

Way back when I was a kid, for my school's Renaissance Faire-esque fundraiser, I went around wearing a sign that read "Vilage Idiot". When guests asked why, I'd reply, "I wasn't always the village idiot...

• “I used to be a tailor... but it didn't quite suit me... It was only a so-so job.”
• “I once was a lumberjack... but I couldn't hack it... so they gave me the axe.”
• “I was a fisherman too... I just couldn't live off my net income.”
• “I thought about being a witch for a spell.”
• “I tried being a chef... but I just didn't have enough thyme for it.”
• “I was a musician once... but I didn't accomplish anything noteworthy.”
• “For awhile I was a doctor... but I didn't have the patience to keep it up.”
• “I once was a accountant... but I lost interest. The job was too taxing.”
• “I tried moonlighting as a nun... but I confess, they didn't like my altar ego... or my bad habits.”
• “More recently, I was a baker... but I couldn't make enough dough at it... Guess I wasn't bred for the job.”
• “Heck, I was even king for a day... but I didn't have any crowning achievements.”

...And so now, here I am: village idiot, just like my father was. Ah... my father, he was the best village idiot we ever had. It's hard living in his shadow sometimes. You see, my father was a complete idiot! ...I'm just a half-wit.”

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

People were greeting him on the street and were willing to help him when needed. He was respected. He was not waiting in line at the supermarket. He had discounts to all shops he visited. He even had priority in choosing which girl to spend the night with..

However, soon more people started coming to that place. The settlement became bigger, more like a village. The newcomers actually did not care that much about the leader. He was slowly becoming more irrelevant, more equal to everyone else.

He had lost his pre-village.

One evening Jake stole Joke’s bag and hid it just at the edge of a forest nearby. Next morning he told him what he had done and to be careful not to go far into the forest since it’s riddled with bears once you go into the deep forest part and you are sure to get eaten.

Since Joke didn’t return for a long period of time, Jake went looking for him. However, he couldn’t find his friend. Jake, feeling remorse, called the police and told them what had happened.

Unfortunately, the police were no help and the case started to gain traction with the media. Reporters from all the nearby villages wanted to be the one to crack the case and find Joke.

Jake slowly spiraled into despair, not knowing what happened, thinking he killed his friend and all he wanted was some answers, buying all the local newspapers every day hoping to read something new and gain some answers.

Day after day the event slowly slipped out of his mind as time went by with no new information whatsoever. Until one day, Jake decided to put this whole thing behind him and found a therapist to help him move on.

The therapy was a huge success, he completed all but one meetings and he had just one more to go. He arrived on time as always, but the therapist’s office was locked this time. Jake checked his mobile phone and he saw a message from his therapist that he’s gonna be a few minutes late and that he should sit down in the waiting room, relax, and wait for him.

Jake, as any reasonable person, sat down in the waiting room and started waiting. It was at this moment that his phone battery ran out and he became bored, very bored, so he picked up a random newspaper from the table in front of him and then he saw it, the headline he was waiting for for so long:

Joke gone too far.

In a village just outside Sherwood Forest lived Old Robinhood, he had lived a very exciting life with his band of merry men, and his cause of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor and had a fantastic time doing it. He even had a sign outside his door that said, Robinhood, Bandit - but somehow the law never seemed to have noticed and he had lived in plain sight, doing good deeds, giving away money anonymously and living for the cause.

But now age had started to catch up and not being as nimble as he once was close escapes had started to get uncomfortably close. So he decided to retire and hand over the leadership of his band to his son.

So, Robin called his son over to him and said, ‘Son, I want you to take over from me as leader of the merry men. Steal and pillage all you want, but never forget the cause - we only take from the rich to give to the poor’.

‘Father, I will do as you say’ said Robin’s son whose name was Robinson, ‘but tell me one thing, why do you stay anonymous when giving money away?

Why not let people know of your good deeds - you have a sign outside that says bandit and you’ve never been caught, why not add the cause to the sign and say ‘Robinhood, Bandit, steals from the rich to give to the poor’?

‘Fool, screamed Robin, if you put the cause over the sign then you will get caught’

So, last weekend I was on a two days village fair in our neighbourhood with the guys. On saturday, one of them complained about his feet still aching from wearing his new engineer boots the whole friday night AND how he even broke his boot jack at home while taking them off. Took the advantage and said: "Well, you seem to have some trouble with those shoes. Maybe we should send you to a boot camp." Groan