I Start Counting Puns

Me: “One”

(He was interested in thumb, or index finger. Apparently he had a write-in for pinky. Weird)

To continue after 9, I had to put in a lot of effort. It was in tens.

Yeah, I had an itchy knee.

To which the reply would be "oh yeah, how does your face feel.. CUZ ITS KILLING ME!" har har har.

- "How many sheep do you have?"

- "I don't know. Every time I start counting them, I fall asleep."

I used to be addicted to soap but ... I am clean now.

I am addicted to brake fluid but ... I can stop anytime.

If you are attacked by a group of clowns ... go for the juggler.

I just moved and IMMEDIATELY after we move in he starts banging on my door every night yelling at me ... coincidentally I just happen to be playing my drums those nights so I could easily tune him out.

I was just diagnosed with colorblindness ... It came right out of the purple.

I failed math so many times at school ... I can’t even count.

Once i threw a boomerang, it never came back, ... Now I live in CONSTANT fear

When life gives you melons ... you might be dyslexic.

Most people are shocked when they find out how bad I am as an electrician.

My wife just found out I replaced our bed with a trampoline ... She hit the ceiling!

There are 3 types of people in this world, those who can count ... and those who can't

They say three out of five people suffer from diarrhea ... so ... does that mean two out of five enjoy it?

I want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my grandfather ... Not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car.

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

My son was just opening his computer this morning to start his school work. I walked my fingers up his arm, counting 1,2,3,4,5. He asked me what I was doing. I told him "Counting on you......to do a good job at school today.

He started counting but fell asleep.

I was at this spanish magic show last week

the magician got very serious all of a sudden and started counting:

uno...

dos...

and then he disappeared without a tres.

which was my 40th birthday. The BIG Four Oh! As in "Oh, you're 40 and not married? What's wrong with you?"

And my friends, as awesome as they are, kept setting me up on blind dates, but I never seemed to click with any of the women. Pretty women, short women, tall women, rough women, successful women, lazy women - I dated them all and more often than not, they just weren't interested in me.

I think I probably went on twenty or so dates that never resulted in a a single follow up date.

But two months before my birthday, I started dating two women and both fledgling relationships seemed like they were going somewhere as they were getting really, really serious. I couldn't choose one, but I didn't care. I just couldn't believe they were into me. Okay, maybe they weren't the best looking, but I was so desperate for a wife, and I'm definitely no prize myself.

With a few weeks to go before my birthday, I knew I had to act if I had any hope of being married. I bought two rings and proposed to them both (on separate nights, of course) and they both said no. In fact, though they never knew of each other, I went from two good things to both of them not returning my calls. I guess proposing in a mall food court (for Jenny) or down on my knees in front of the bathroom at a minor league baseball game (Susan) were not my best laid plans, doomed to fail. Or maybe I just reeked of desperation.

So the morning of my birthday, I was practically in tears, deep in depression as I knew I missed my deadline. But my friends came though, kind of. They took me out bar hopping and then we all went back to my place where they had a stripper waiting in my favorite chair. She got up, sat me down, and gave me a grinding lap dance. She said nothing, but after a minute, stopped, turned around, looked me in the eye and said "one." Then she started up again, stopped after a minute, turned around and said "two..."

This went on all night until she got to "forty."

It's been a few months now, and I'm not too sad. My friends really tried to get me married, and after two near mrs, I guess it was the thot that counts.

and my teacher starts counting wavelengths to help us learn a concept. "One lambda, two lambda, three lambda" suddenly I chime in "man, I thought I was the only one trying to fall asleep here". My teacher looked at me obviously ready to scold me but before he does I proudly explain myself "Get it? Like counting sheep!". Believe me, the groan my classmates gave me was one for the ages.

In the version they're doing, the bass section plays a bit at the start, then just sits there til the final part of the last movement. So, they decide to leave the concert and go out for drinks.

While at the bar down the street, they meet a European nobleman, and they become good friends. Unfortunately, the guy had been gorging himself on crappy bar food, and he quickly falls into a food coma.

One of the basses drunkenly checks his watch and says, "crap! We're not going to get back on stage in time!" As they're sprinting back, one of them says, "actually, I thought this would happen, so I tied some of the pages of the conductor's score together - that way, he'll have to slow the tempo way down with his right hand while undoes the knots with his left!"

And so they get back just in time to finish the Symphony, and the audience is none the wiser. The conductor, however, was furious.

After all, they'd left him at the bottom of the 9th, with the score tied, while the basses were loaded, and the Count was full.

So a bus conductor in America was doing his job one day, happily printing and checking tickets all day long, enjoying the country views and feeling good about life.

A young lad gets on, chewing gum and being as loud and rude as all teenage lads are. There’s no-one else on the bus, so the conductor takes his ticket machine and bops the lad over the head, killing him. As expected, the Police arrest him. He goes through the legal process, a trial and admits his guilt, however the judge decides that they’re making an example of him and give him the sentence of death by the electric chair.

On Death row, he requests 5lbs of bananas for his last meal, which is duly brought and consumed. As he finishes, the guards arrive to escort him to the chair. As the executioner flicks the switch, nothing happens. All of the equipment is checked and works, but has no effect on the bus conductor. Under the law, this counts as a reprieve and he is released.

He gets his job back and puts the whole incident behind him. Until one day, a little old lady gets on the bus and starts to pay for a ticket in one cent coins. After about 10 minutes of fiddling with change, the conductor runs out of patience and bops the old lady on the head, killing her. As expected, the Police arrest him. He goes through the legal process, a trial and admits his guilt, however the judge decides that they’re making an example of him and give him the sentence of death by the electric chair.

On Death row, he requests 5lbs of bananas for his last meal, which is duly brought and consumed. As he finishes, the guards arrive to escort him to the chair. As the executioner flicks the switch, nothing happens. All of the equipment is checked and works, but has no effect on the bus conductor. Under the law, this counts as a reprieve and he is released.

After getting his job back again, life seems to go well for the conductor, until one day a young lady gets on the bus, casually putting her feet on the seat opposite. By now, the conductor is a little less lenient than in years gone by, so he takes his ticket machine and bops her over the head with it, killing her. As expected, the Police arrest him. He goes through the legal process, a trial and admits his guilt, however the judge decides that they’re making an example of him and give him the sentence of death by the electric chair.

On Death row, he requests 5lbs of bananas for his last meal, which is duly brought and consumed. As he finishes, the guards ar

Once a magician from Mexico was performing. He said he will disappear at the count of three.. He started ,"un, dos,..."

He disappeared without a très

A man came home from work late again, tired and irritated, to find his 5 year old son waiting for him at the door.

“Daddy, may I ask you a question ?”

“Yeah, sure, what is it ?” replied the man.

“Daddy, how much money do you make an hour?”

“That’s none of your business! What makes you ask such a thing?” the man said angrily.

“I just want to know.  Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?” pleaded the little boy.

“If you must know, I make $20.00 an hour.”

“Oh,” the little boy replied, head bowed.

Looking up, he said, “Daddy, may I borrow $9.00 please?”

The father was furious. “If the only reason you wanted to know how much money I make is just so you can borrow some to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed.   Think about why you’re being so selfish.  I work long, hard hours every day and don’t have time for such childish games.”

The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door.

The man sat down and started to get even madder about the little boy’s questioning.  How dare he ask such questions only to get some money.

After an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think he may have been a little hard on his son.  May be there was something he really needed to buy with that $9.00 and he really didn’t ask for money very often.

The man went to the door of the little boy’s room and opened the door.  “Are you asleep son?” he asked.

“No daddy, I’m awake,” replied the boy.

“I’ve been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier,” said the man.  “It’s been long day and I took my aggravation out on you. Here’s that $9.00 you asked for.”

The little boy sat straight up, beaming.

“Oh, thank you daddy!” he yelled.

Then, reaching under his pillow, he pulled out some more crumpled up bills.  The man, seeing that the boy already had money, started to get angry again.

The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at the man.

“Why did you want more money if you already had some?” the father grumbled.

“Because I didn’t have enough, but now I do,” the little boy replied.

“Daddy, I have $20.00 now.  Can I buy an hour of your time?”

The father looked upon his son with a smile as he walked towards the door and said "Overtime is double pay."

My dad loves trivia and brain teasers. He asks me "How many d's in Rudolph, the red nosed reindeer."

I figure people don't count the d at the end of red-nosed. So I say "4" with confidence....

He says, "nope....237." I looked at him, everyone in this sub-reddit know the look.

Then he starts singing " dee dee dee dee dee ..." to the tune of Rudolph.

I laughed and added it to my repertoire.

He started to count, but soon fell asleep.