Funeral for a Friend Puns

The man stands up and speaks "Plethora." and steps back down.

"Thank you..." says the Widow, "that really means a lot."

EDIT The responses here are incredible! 👌

She says "Go ahead".
He says "Plethora".
She thinks for a second, looks down and replies "Thank you. That means a lot".

The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.

Doughboy was buried in a lightly-greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Cap'n Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours as long- time friend, Aunt Jemima, delivered the eulogy, describing Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a very "smart" cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he -- even still, as a crusty old man -- was considered a roll model for millions. Toward the end, it was thought he would rise again, but alas, he was no tart.

Doughboy is survived by his wife, Play Dough; two children, John Dough and Jane Dough; plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart.

The funeral was held at 3:50 for about twenty minutes.

Seriously my friend's grandmother passed away yesterday,. She is not doing very well and needs a good laugh. I need your best funeral, death, passing away, meeting god stories. Keep it fun plz! I want to link her to this post to keep her smiling for a long time. I'm dying to hear how long you all kept her smiling and laughing!! #DadHumorUnite

A number of years ago I was in a rock band. We were hugely successful, playing some of the biggest venues and entertaining swarms of fans.

The last shoes we ever played were on our world tour. We played the Americas and then flew over to Europe. We played our way through Russia and even a couple of gigs in China, before selling out our final show in Japan.

It was a hell of a Journey, but it was time for me to hang up my guitar. I retired from the rock star life and got an office job in Tokyo.

I made a few friends at work, and grew close with one in particular, Narada-san. One day Narada had the day off for a funeral, but that wasn't enough; he needed more time. He was torn between his obligation to return to work and his desire to have more time at home. He asked me what he should do.

The answer was simple. I picked up my guitar and played a Japanese version of our biggest hit from 1981:

Don't Stop Bereaving

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

Some monks set up a cart and began selling flowers for funerals in front of an Irish Catholic church. The bishop was displeased as selling funeral arrangements was a source of revenue for the church so he hired his very large friend Hugh McWIlliams to chase them away. For weeks Hugh stood guard and the monks didn't return until the bishop decided that the matter was resolved and relieved Hugh of his duty. The very next day the monks returned with their cart of flowers and it was at this point the bishop realized: only Hugh can prevent florist friars.

A family friend had passed away and my Dad and I were at the wake.

Dad: Let me know if you need to borrow a shirt, a tie, or a suit for the funeral on Friday.

Me: Eh, no that's OK, thank you though, I have a few of my own.

Dad: Alright, well then...suit yourself.

Everyone standing around laughed and the mood was immediately lightened.
Way to go Pops.

At a funeral reception recently a friend of mine grabbed a cucumber, honeydew appetizer. I remarked: "are those for the melancholy????". (Un)fortunately I was not forcibly removed from the reception; I showed myself out.

My mom and dad are funeral directors, and we live in an apartment on top of the shop.

I was at a friends house yesterday, and my dad came around to pick me up. The friends house is like far out into the woods, so it's kinda hard to find, but he got in on the first try. So I got in the car and this conversation happened:

 

Thanks for picking me up, glad you could find the place.

>No problem, it's what I do for a living

??

>I get called up in the middle of the night, get in my car and drive to some house I've never been to before

...

>Then I pick someone up who needs my help, drive them all the way back to the shop and feel that I've done something good this night.

 

He's the only person I know that is able to joke around this much about his profession. It's pretty darn cool!

Veteran Pillsbury spokesman Pop N. Fresh died Wednesday of a severe yeast infection. He was 71. He was buried Friday in one of the biggest funerals in years. Dozens of celebrities turned out including Mrs. Butterworth, the California Raisins, Hungry Jack, Betty Crocker, and the Hostess Twinkies. The graveside was piled high with flours, as longtime friend Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy, describing Fresh as a man who "never knew he was kneaded". Fresh rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a smart cookie, and wasted much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Still, even as a crusty old man, he was a roll model to millions. Fresh is survived by his second wife. They had two children, and one in the oven. The funeral was at 3:50 for 20 minutes.