A list of puns related to "Lock & Lock"
A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night? The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a very strange sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, We can't tell you. You're not a monk.
The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way. Some years later, The same man breaks down in front of the same monastery. The monks again accept him, feed him, and again fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier. The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, We can't tell you. You're not a monk.
The man says, All right, all right. I'm dying to know.
If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?
The monks reply, You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles, when you find these numbers, you will become a monk. The man sets about his task. Some 54 years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery.
He says, I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.
The monks reply, Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.
The monks lead the man to a wooden door where the head monk says, The sound is right behind that door. The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked.
He says, Real funny. May I have the key? The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone.
The man demands the key to the stone door. The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. He demands another key from the monks, who provide it.
Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire, And so it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst.
Finally, the monks say, This is the last key to the last door.
The man is relieved to know that he has finally reached to the end.
He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.
But he can't tell you what it is because you're not a monk.
Bump…
Bump…
Bump…
Walking faster, he looks back and through the fog he makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him.
Bump…
Bump…
BUMP…
Terrified, the man begins to run toward his home. The casket still bouncing quickly behind him.
Faster…
Faster…
FASTER…
Bump…
Bump…
BUMP…
He runs up to his door, fumbles with the keys, opens the door, rushes in and slams and locks the door behind him.
Rushing up the stairs to his bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding. His head is reeling. His breath is coming in sobbing gasps.
With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping towards him.
The man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is cough syrup!
Desperate, he throws the cough syrup as the casket!
And…
The coffin stops….
The shop owner directs him to a 1,500$ parrot who can sing Christmas carols. The man doesnt believe the store owner and asks him for proof before dropping the 1,500. The store owner locks the doors and escorts the man to the back of the store and tells him “This is a very special parrot, before he sings you must warm him up by holding a lit match 12 inches beneath.” He then takes out a match, lights it and holds it a rulers length beneath the parrot. After a few moments the parrot starts sining “jingle bells” in the tone of Frank Sinatra. Thinking this might be some cheap parlor trick he asks for several more demonstrations.. “Rudolph” “Frosty the Snowman” “Drummer Boy” even “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” in the best impersonations he’s ever heard! The man gladly hands over the cash and rushes home to amaze his wife. He holds the match a rulers length and nothing. The wife laughingly says he got ripped off. “ No no honey this works watch” he does it again only holding it half a rulers length this time and still nothing! The wife, laughing hysterically, starts going back upstairs. “NO honey it really works watch!” “Im going to bed, Merry Christmas” says the wife as she turns to head up the stairs. “WAIT Honey, one more time, please!” He pulls out another match, this time holding it three inches under the parrot who then squawks out “CHESTNUTS ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE”
I hear they've got the keynote speaker locked up.
Bagels and locks.
I really want to have a daughter and name her Zelda.
I imagine, as she gets older she will spend all her time writing sick poetry and rhymes in her journal, growing her hair down to her back, not to spite me, but so she can donate it later, and expand her wit by studying improv comedy through highschool.
As she becomes famous, I hope she will invite me to one of her rap battles and put me in the front row. My heart will grow as she takes the stage, but fatherly intuition tells me something is wrong...Zelda is frozen at the microphone.
I see her up on the stage, eyes alight with fright, hair pulled tight into a bun. She and I lock eyes, a moment of silence passes and serenity slowly enters...THIS is the moment we have been waiting for all our lives.
Looking up calmly, I couldn't be more proud as I exclaim, "Rap puns, Zel. Rap puns, Zel! Let down your hair!"
Talk to the lock, because communication is key
It was a brisk Saturday morning when Gerald arrived at “The Café,” a hip coffee shop right down the street. Wearing his large, burly black coat, he stared hesitantly at his watch. Thick glasses adorned his bright blue eyes, his gaze like starlight in a clear night sky. He was waiting, intently twiddling his thumbs. After a buzz of his phone, the message from Dad popped up: “Parking now, be there in 5.”
“Dad,” he whispered under his breath, swiping the message away to once again reveal the image on his lock-screen: a hazy picture of an ultrasound.
Gerald had not spoken to his father for three years. They had had a falling out, over which he did not remember. To him it was a competition of who could wait the longest without calling or sending a text. Who could wait the longest: him without a father, or his father without a son? The idea of friction in the relationship hurt like a thorn; piercing his soul more and more everyday. Until recently, out of the blue, “Dad” popped up on his phone. The rest is history. The rest leads to that Saturday morning, at The Café.
Bang! A car door rang out not too far from where Gerald stood. Gerald saw him. His father wore his tweed jacket like a coat of armor. His strut was now weaker than before they stopped talking; a weakness evident in his cane which supported every right step. His shortly trimmed white beard juxtaposed against his uncut, curly grey hair gave him the image of a wise wizard from a fairytale. He used to be that figure to Gerald, yet instead of a nice ancient being acting like a stone to keep him grounded, Gerald had felt as though his father was a rock pulling him deeper and deeper into a sea of monotony. Holding him back from his true potential. Maybe that was why he left? He still did not know.
“Hello, son,” came the withered voice Gerald had sook for so long, yet now that it had arrived wanted to avoid. “I can’t believe it’s been so long!”
“Yeah,” said Gerald, allowing a smile to grace his face. “Too long!”
Then they hugged, signifying a change in their relationship. Gerald had hoped something could happen to bring them closer together. He did not want to go on wondering what could have been. The regret and sadness weighed him down. Before starting a new family, Gerald wanted to be reacquainted with his own.
After finding their table and sitting down, the two began to discuss life. It was like old friends catching up after a long break. Although it took some time, Gerald began to warm u
... keep reading on reddit ➡There's bound to be a lock down there
I guess you could say it was in caps lock.
Because it had its CAPS LOCK on.
Edit- North of 4k upvotes, Thank You Kind Strangers.
-Who's there? -Dory. -Dory who? -Dory's locked, that's why I'm knocking.
World lock down and social distancing champions 2020.
I learned that humans and wifi connections are the same in prison. Sometimes they're free and sometimes they're locked up .
Lock doors, stockpile and two runny nostrils
In the gym today, guy is having to get his lock cut off because he lost his key. Joke around with guy for a bit because i have done the same.
As he is walking away....
Him: "you have a good day man"
Me: "you too, better lock next time"
I hear him groan, look to the guy next to me with a dumbass smile on my face and he rolled his eyes. Hahaha
Doris locked that’s why I’m knocking
I would get a guy in a head lock and write my name on their forehead.
It was my signature move.
Did you hear about the magician who grabbed Eminem so hard his SnapBack fell off?
He pulled a rabbit out of his hat
What do you call a magician who is an administrator at a college, but nobody knows what students he is in charge of?
Whose dean’s he?
A magician went out to the store and bought a big metal structure so he could hang upside down and do situps. He also loved painting, but because of his style he often knocked the canvas around while dabbing on the paint. So he bought another, wooden structure, like an easel, but with clamps to hold the painting in place while he prodded it with the paintbrush. His wife asked, as he brought them in, what the hell he had just bought. He replied:
“Ab rack and dab rack”
What do you call a magician with very skinny fingers?
Slight of hand
The magician’s wife brought him to the store to buy gifts for a birthday party. She picked out a lovely candle, but wanted to include a nice note. The magician knew just what to do. He brought her down an aisle, found a section marked “birthday,” and said:
“Pick a card, any card”
The Russian magician, in 1932, found an amazing new piece for his act: a giant, wooden sarcophagus in the shape of a beautiful woman. The piece had giant, metal blades inside at waist level. They were locked in place while it was open, but retracted as it closed, making it seem as though the magician had escaped death. But one day, while he was practicing, the great sarcophagus fell over - door still open - right on the magician. When he was found, he was cut right in two. Moral of the story:
In Soviet Russia, box woman saws you.
Okay that’s it. I’m so sorry, I have nothing better to do.
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.
There was an evil wizard who hated mathematics. One day he decided that he would end math once and for all, by capturing the 10 digits, and locking the away forever in his secret prison. So he cast his spell, and all the digits, from 0 to 9 were under his influence. He put them in his magic sack and rode off to the prison. When he reached the prison, he opened the sack. To his horror, there were not 10, but 9 digits there. After searching thoroughly he realized that...it was the 1 that got away.
My family was having a burger night and I improvised some groaners:
Q - How does it sound when your cousin drives an ambulance?
A - Neeeenaaaaa-neeeeenaaaaa! (There is a cousin called Nina)
Q - How do you know when your cousin is coming to visit?
A - they ring the Issa-belle! (Yip, you guessed it there is a cousin called Issabelle)
Q - What does a dinosaur say to offer you a hot drink?
A - Would you like some tea, Rex? (Hate to over explain and ruin the joke but just in case - Rex )
Then during bathtime:
Q - When a crab goes to jail where do they lock him up?
A - A jail shell. (there was a decorative jar of shells there which I used as a muse for this piece)
Q - How does a daddy cow clean himself at night?
A - In a bub-bull bath. (Just came to me)
Q - What does an astronaut use in the bath?
A - A space cloth. (this one didn't really land but I stand by it)
Q - What do you use to wash your hair in the toilet?
A - Sham-poo (low hanging fruit but this one absolutely killed)
by changing the locks.
But it was all locked up.
...I'll be locked in a cell
I finally put a lock on the door to keep him from barging in.
I have to give a workshop on anxiety and depression today and I would like to have some jokes locked in to defuse the tension if needed. I usually don't have much trouble to come up with dad jokes on the go, but it would be nice to have some in the back burner. Thanks!
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
I asked her: How else am I supposed to get in if you lock the door?
Why can you take a bike to a tavern, but not a unicycle?
A unicycle can't handlebars.
Why couldn't the bicycle sneak up on the unicycle?
The unicycle knew him two wheel.
Why was the bicycle locked up?
He was a pedalphile.
...You must first find the lock.
If you find yourself locked out of your house, talk to the door because communication is key
Call it "Sure-Lock Homes".
A Rogue will pick the lock. A Monk will just use their Ki.
Scroll lock
Urine lock
My girlfriend locked me outside the house🏠 because she got sick of my terrible wordplay jokes. So I texted her, "Oh pun the door."
Be calm and talk to the lock.
Because communication is key!
"Doris"
"Doris who?"
"Doris locked, that's why im knocking."
Talk to your lock calmly, because communication is key.
When behind him he hears:
BUMP...
BUMP...
BUMP...
Walking faster, he looks back and makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street towards him.
BUMP...
BUMP...
BUMP...
Terrified, the man begins running home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him.
FASTER
FASTER
BUMP...
BUMP...
BUMP...
He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, and slams it shut and locks it behind him.
However, the casket crashes through the door, with the lid of the casket clacking
Clapity-BUMP...
Clapity-BUMP...
Clapity-BUMP...
on his heels, the terrified man runs.
Rushing upstairs in the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps.
With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping towards him
A man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! Desperate, he throws the bottle of cough syrup at the casket and...
The coffin stops.
A man is walking home alone one foggy evening, when behind him he faintly hears:
thump...
thump...
thump...
Senses tingling, he begins walking faster only to look back and make out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street towards him.
THUMP...
THUMP...
THUMP...
Terrified, the man begins running home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him.
FASTER
FASTER
THUMP...
THUMP...
THUMP...
He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, slams it shut and locks it behind him.
However, the casket crashes through the door, and with the lid of the casket clacking on his heels, the terrified man runs.
Clappity-THUMP...
Clappity-THUMP...
Clappity-THUMP...
Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps.
With a loud CRASH! the casket breaks down the door. Thumping and clapping towards him, the man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! Desperate, he throws it at the casket and...
The coffin stops.
Because it had its CAPS LOCK on.
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