Passing Stranger Puns

It's not well known that among the species of plants taken aboard Noah's Ark was a very odd berry. This berry had a special property where if you ate too few at once they would be sour, but if you ate too many at once they would be bitter. Even stranger was that the right number of berries to eat at once for perfect sweetness was different for each person.

Shem would never take enough berries and would complain every time "Ugh! These berries are so sour! Why did we bring these plants?" Noah would reply "I've told you over and over, you need to eat a couple more in a mouthful to make them sweet."

Ham would always take too many berries and would complain every time "Ick! These berries are so bitter! I'd like to toss the plants overboard." Noah would reply "I've told you over and over, you need to eat fewer in a mouthful to make them sweet."

Japeth would grab a random amount and whenever they were bitter or sour he'd complain "Why do these berries never taste the same? We should let the animals eat the plants so we don't have to eat the silly berries." Noah would reply "I've told you over and over, you should remember how many berries taste the best."

After a couple of weeks of this, Noah announced "I'm taking charge of portioning the berries. I've made notes of how many of them taste the best for me, my wife, all of you my sons, and your wives. At meals I'll give each of you the correct amount, and NO MORE COMPLAINTS!"

Another week passed and Japeth wanted some berries to take the edge off his hunger, but rather than wander all over the whole ark looking for his father he asked Emzara "Where's dad? I'd like some berries before lunch."

Emzara pointed to the storeroom and said "I thought you were tired of the berries? But there's Noah, counting for taste."

This has been my favourite joke for at least a couple years now.

A man drives train in Bulgaria. One day, he falls asleep driving, and runs over someone walking on the tracks. Well, his case goes to court, and he gets the death sentence for murder. So, he's on death row and the executioner approaches him.

"What would you like for your last meal?"

"I would like a banana please."

The executioner thinks it's weird, but shrugs and gives him a banana. The guy eats his banana, waits awhile, and gets strapped into the electric chair. When the flip the switch, nothing happens! In Bulgaria, an act of divine intervention means you get released.

A few months go by, and the train driver has been working for a new company. Well, old habits die hard, and he falls asleep again, killing 2 people this time. The court has no patience for recklessness, so he ends up on death row again. After awhile, the same executioner from last time approaches him.

"You again? Shit. What do you want this time?"

"Two bananas please."

The executioner shrugs and hands him two bananas. A bit weird, but whatever. There's no way he can cheat death twice! But, when they flip the switch, nothing happens again. The train driver walks a second time.

Some time passes, and the executioner is very busy. After another few months, the same dude shows up, apparently having run over 3 people with a train. Exacberated, the executioner approaches him for the third time.

"Let me guess. Three bananas?"

"Actually yes! How did you know?"

"Top bad! This has gone on long enough. No more bananas! Today you fry."

So, the train driver gets strapped into the chair with no last meal. But, when they flip the switch, nothing happens again.

"I dont get it," says the executioner. "I didnt let you eat any bananas!"

"Its not the bananas. I'm a bad conductor."

Edit: Thanks for the Gold stranger! Edit: And Silver!

I met a stranger o‌‌n t‌‌he t‌‌ube t‌‌he o‌‌ther d‌‌ay. He didn't say 'hello', as a normal person might. Instead, he s‌‌aid, "‌‌Remember Matt Damon".

That seems a little bit weird... but it gets weirder. The next day, I passed the same fellow on the street, while I was out walking my dog. He called out to me once again, "Remember Matt Damon".

But I finally cracked it and called the cops after the SAME guy t‌‌apped o‌‌n m‌‌y bedroom w‌‌indow, a‌‌t 1‌‌1.30 pm last n‌‌ight. He called to me, loud enough for me to clearly hear him through the glass, "‌‌Remember Matt Damon."

My conversation with the police then went like this:

Me: Officer, I think I have a stalker.

Policeman: can you tell me anything about this person?

Me: Well... uhhh... he reminds me of Matt Damon...

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 once had a goat. One that nobody understood why he did the things he did, and he resented us all for it. So much so that he would head butt and attack anyone that tried to get close. He was just such a misunderstood soul. One day, I was looking out the window with my morning coffee when I saw that a passing stranger was sitting atop that old and rusted '55 Chevy pickup that sat in the pasture petting the goat. The goat had finally found someone that really understood him. I watched amazed as this stranger reached a closeness with the goat that I myself would never know . "Wow" I whispered to myself, "that man really gets my goat..."

In the not too distant future, web censorship is pervasive; speech and freedom are strangers to one another; while pirates sail the seas with impunity, digital pirates are incarcerated by the busload.

Anyone who speaks out against this ban on open-dialogue or the free-sharing-of-ideas is ground down and hidden away, and the resistance is loosing its will.

A small group of contributors to reddit, huddled together in a bunker beneath barely-waving flags of Snoo, worked tirelessly to repost new ideas from around the internet, to release ideas from their chains, and make speech free ... again!

But it was not to be - a gang of the governments anti-piracy enforcers descended on this, the last bastion of humankind's will to share-freely. Arriving in an armored bus, ten shock-troopers breached the bunker and it looked like the day was lost.

Fortunately for us all, one brave redditor led the collective out a back entrance and they circled to the driveway. This leader told the other redditors to wait in the bushes while he overpowered the one soldier left guarding the transport. There was a flash of movement, a crack from a fallen branch as it struck the guard, and then, stolen keys in hand, the hero revved the engine and told the redditors to pile in.

He had to will himself ignore the gas gauge as he floored the accelerator on the 25,000 pound ticket to freedom - there was only survival or defeat, and nothing in between. Sirens came alive behind him as he rushed for the border to the promised land, to the Free-North.

As the engine begins to cough, the titanic weight of the transport cleaves the barricades asunder and the pursuing vehichles have to hard-brake to avoid skidding beyond their corrupt jurisdiction. Both exhausted and elated, the redditors follow their hero to the freedom promised by their new surroundings ... but their peril is not yet passed.

Though most of the pirate-hunters glower from the south-side of the border, one special agent has crossed over and is speaking with the border guards. The tension is thick. A long-faced guard turns to the newcomers, clearly troubled by what he must do.

"Folks," he says, a pained look on his kindly face, "I'm sorry, to do this, don't cha' know, but I got no choice, eh!"

Confused, the redditors look to one another, and tremble as they notice the agent's smug expression, greedy eyes fixed on the leader of the exodus.

"Look here, now, you are all welcome here, of course, and since speech is free here, we are

Some man approached my dad and asked him what year he graduated looking at his class ring. My dad tells him class of '92 and he asked how that was possible because my father looks pretty old. He informs him it was for his PhD and that his kids like to call him a doctor that doesn't help anybody. The stranger responds, well my kids call me a doctor that just sits on a stool and passes gas. We were both obviously confused until he let us know he was an anesthesiologist.