Extremities (play) Puns

There was once a boy. He was the son of the richest man in the universe. Mark Zuckerberg, Bill Gates, he dwarfed them all. He was a multi-trillionaire. Now, it was this boy's birthday. His father asked him,

"My son. I am the richest man in the universe. I could buy you anything you want for your birthday. A store full of lego, all the video games in the world, anything. What would you like?"

His son replied.

"Oh father. It would make me the happiest boy in the world if you could get me one pink ping pong ball."

His father was rather confused by this request. Out of all the things he could've chosen, his son chose a ping pong ball. Nonetheless, he agreed and gave him a pink ping pong ball. His son was overjoyed and spoke to him.

"My father, you have made me the happiest boy in the world. May I go up to my room and play with my pink ping pong ball?"

"Okay son, go ahead."

The boy then went up to his room and played with his pink ping pong ball. When his father went in the next morning to check on him, the boy was sleeping in his bed and the pink ping pong ball was nowhere to be found.

On the boy's next birthday, his father asked him again.

"My son. I am the richest man in the universe. I could buy you anything you want for your birthday. What would you like?"

His son replied.

"Oh father. It would make me the happiest boy in the world if you could get me one box full of pink ping pong balls."

His father was again, confused by this. Still, he bought a cardboard box and filled it with ping pong balls. He gave it to his son, who said.

"My father, you have made me the happiest boy in the world. May I go up to my room and play with my pink ping pong balls?"

The father nodded, and the son went up to his room to play. The next morning when his father went to check, the boy was sleeping peacefully and there were no pink ping pong balls in sight. Just the empty cardboard box in the middle of the room.

On the boy's next birthday, his father asked him again.

"My son. I am the richest man in the universe. I could buy you anything you want for your birthday. What would you like?"

"Oh father. It would make me the happiest boy in the world if you could get me one truck full of ping pong balls."

Now, by this point, the father was extremely confused. Why did the boy want so many pink ping pong balls and where were they going? He asked.

"My son. You are the most precious thing in the world to me and I can certainly get you this, but may I ask, why do you want

Friend: "Wow, it must be really difficult for him to fly."

Me: "You'd think it'd be easier, he has longer arms."

I find it extremely difficult to deal with.

I have two favorite titles that are extremely clever puns.

“Shawn the Sheep” “Dexter”

“Shawn the Sheep” is a sly play on the dialect of the characters in the animation. “Shawn” and “shorn” have the same pronunciation in the dialect of the outskirts of Bristol, UK.

“Dexter” is a wonderful Latin pun. “Dexter” is the word for “right” and “Sinister” is the implied compliment, the word for “left” in Latin. Dexter is a series about a serial killer who only murders those guilty of crimes. His name in Latin implies he is the opposite of sinister, right or just.

Him: How did it happen?

Me: I really have no idea, she was fine yesterday.

Him: Have you ruled out the possibility of fowl play?

I was playing with his hair and I wondered out loud what he'd look like with extremely short or buzzed hair.

He said, "Well I shaved my head once and didn't like it."

"Yeah but you didn't have a beard back then. I wonder if you could pull it off now."

"Well, I'd probably just cut it off."

......

Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.

To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.

I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.

Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.

You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.

The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.

The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.

Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.

Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.

But so far, I've quit cold turkey.

So we are playing dnd and our Catfolk Barbarian gets sick from being bitten from a giant tick a few days ago. She's pretty salty about it because it's made her physically weaker and she can't hit thing as well. The GM (her dad) says "She is sick with a disease that's like an extreme form of lime disease." "My God". I said "It's Lemon Disease." Without skipping a beat the GM says, "Yes. And it's made a sour puss."

We all die.