Paste (story) Puns

Dad: "Did you know that the people who live in this town aren't allowed to be buried in that cemetery?"

Me: "Oh, why?"

Dad: "Cuz they're still alive."

She stops and ask "What?"

- "Your speed!"

She glares at me and says: "Dad, you lost something!"

- "What?"

- "Your hair!"

Oof.

True story.

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

I guess his story didn't check out

Some of her/our friends came along too. One friend had an exchange student from Mexico with them.

The girl I'm interested in's dad, and the exchange student meet and introduce themselves, then it goes...

Her dad: "So what part of Mexico are you from?"

Student: "My family and I live in Monterrey."

Dad: "Oh wonderful! And what kind of drugs does your family sell?"

-Awkward pause, his daughter appalled, face in palms, completely embarrassed-

Dad: "Hahahah, I'm just kidding, welcome aboard!"

This is pretty much how the whole day went on the river, joke after joke, story after story, and his daughter was completely embarrassed. So great.

A couple we're friendly with have a really cute 3-year-old girl who loves to play with the small animals in the backyard (mostly toads). Recently the girl found a bird a little later than their pet cat did, and didn't realize the bird was dead. Her mom, being a bit strange and not wanting to explain death to her daughter quite yet, puts on a pair of yard gloves and -- when the daughter wasn't looking -- sticks the dead bird up in a tree. Tells her daughter, "look, he's napping in the tree."

At this point in the story I chime in, "Weekend at Birdie's!"

HI I’m Tim the turtle, yes a real turtle. And I would like to tell you the story of my best friend. I once had a friend by the name of Sam. Sam of course was a clam. A real live honest to goodness clam. He was my best buddy, but unfortunately he smoked and drank and ran around with loose women (and a few men). I was more of the goodie two shoes type. I never drank, never smoked, I didn’t even swear. But for some reason Sam and I were the best of friends. I guess you can say we were the epitome of opposites attracting. One day as we were hanging out walking along the beach Sam, after his fifth cigarette in a row, had a heart attack and died. I was heart broken. My best friend died right there in front of me and he never repented his evil ways. I was sure he would spend eternity in damnation. Sigh. Being the goodie two shoes type I was still extremely healthy well into my old age. I missed my friend terribly for many years. On his birthday I would host a party and invite his old stripper girlfriends and poker buddies around to relive stories. It was always a fun evening, but in the end left me more lonely than before. Eventually, my broken heart couldn’t stand it anymore and I too died. I was pleased to find that there was a heaven. Being an almost saint I was whisked directly past the line to the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter. A big grin erupted on his face and he came right around his desk to give me a great big hug. “Tim”, he said, “You have been such a good person back on earth that God has asked me to grant you any wish you would like before even entering heaven”. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I thought for a minute, I guess God expected me to ask for more time on earth, but I knew what I really wanted to do was to visit with my old friend Sam. So I asked. Poor St. Peter didn’t know what to say. You know Sam is in Hell right? Well I knew that was a strong possibility so I wasn’t surprised. Peter excused himself for a while and went to check with the big guy himself. He was gone quite some time, but eventually he returned. Peter said my request was approved, but under a few conditions. First, I would have to carry a golden harp as a passport back into heaven. This harp could only be carried by a good soul so I couldn’t be replaced by a look alike demon. Second, I would have to return by midnight. God didn’t want me to face too much temptation. I agreed to these conditions and took the highway down to hell. (Nope n

A: Broke

Q: What do people do with cigars and cigarettes?

A: Smoke

Q: What do you call a funny story that's supposed to make someone laugh?

A: Joke

Q: What's the most popular brand of cola in the world?

A: Coke

Q: What do you call the white of an egg?

A: Yolk.

No, it's the albumen.

"Dad, what does pasteurised mean?"
Dad picks up milk carton.
"Well this is milk,"
He slowly moves the carton past my sisters face.
"...and now it's past-your-eyes-'d milk"

It said I needed to install a new copy of Word-- but when I did, the file type was no longer compatible. I actually had to copy and paste it from a window of the old Word to a window of the new Word.

You were probably expecting a pun in this story, but there isn't one-- just a little play on Words.

While walking down the street a man found a hundred dollars on the ground. Ecstatic, he took the money and walked into a nearby store, thinking he would treat himself. Inside, he purchased a large chocolate cake and started walking home. Suddenly, a crazy old man popped out of an alley next to him and ran straight past him! As he went by, he dropped a mechanical eyeball straight into the middle of the cake. Dazed, the man stopped and stared at the eyeball when it suddenly started to belt out a tune!

Well, obviously the best part of this story was the finding of the 100 dollars - everything else is just eye sing on the cake.

This past weekend I got a new car, a Saab. My therapist and I were chatting about it, and then he hit me with this one:

Me: Nobody could give me a ride to the dealership, so I had to get my Saab a full week after I had originally planned to.

Him: Oh no, not another one of your Saab stories...

I'm here today to tell you all a horrible story, so that none of you have to go through the same experience as my friend.

My friend, Hugh, is a very religious man, who is also involved in our community. 2 weeks ago, our local church burned down and Hugh believed it was his Christian duty to help them get back on their feet. Hugh allowed the friars of the church to set up a cart in his mall to sell their flowers. Every day, the friars came in at 7:00 in the morning with a bushel of beautiful flowers and began to work diligently to arrange them into bouquets. All was going well, the mall was generating more revenue and the church was making more money than they were by selling the flowers in front of the church on Sunday. Everyone was happy; until that first weekend.

Our town is kinda tourist-y, so we get some out-of-towners on the weekends. A gay couple came to the mall the first weekend that the friars had taken up shop (Typically, our town is pretty progressive, but the friars tended to be uber-conservative). The couple came over to the cart and admired the flowers; they tried to purchase a bouquet, but the friars refused to sell to them. The couple was outraged and went to see Hugh directly. They complained to him that the friars were being discriminatory, so Hugh promised to have a talk with the friars. When Hugh confronted the friars, they refused to sell to the couple on the grounds that “they were committing an atrocity in the eyes of the lord.” The couple stormed off and promised to boycott the cart.

This past weekend, the couple came back with a large group and a letter from the mayor, saying that the friars had to sell to them, regardless of sexual preference. The friars stood firm and refused to sell to them, so the group started a protest. They brought in signs and started chanting around the cart. The friars continued to sell their flowers and Hugh allowed them to remain, so eventually the protest began to boycott the mall, rather than just the cart.

By today, the mall had lost 50% of its normal weekend revenue. The group sent a letter to Hugh saying that they could forgive him if he shut down the flower cart within the week. Hugh was pretty broken up, but he had no choice. To maintain his livelihood, he would have to kick the friars out of his store. He talked with the friars this morning and revoked their previous agreement. The friars had their cart packed and left by 7:30, to huge cheers from the community. The mall has been pretty norm

Once there was this farmer and he had this dream of having a duck. Then one day he saw this duck and started to chase it. He chased it all throughout the farmland. He chased it through a forest. He chased it past a river. All his life, he spent chasing this duck but he never caught it. He died all alone, old and hungry and without the duck. See, the duck represents your dreams, and the other opportunities, they represent other opportunities. So the moral of the story? Don't go chasing water fowls.

So i was ask to post it here from a post in /r/screenshots/ , so i thought i'd add a story to it:

So, my father had asked me to make him a little sign up website, basic HTML format, that he could then copy and paste into a wordpress site that his Go-kart association uses. I made it, put it into a zip file, and e-mail him. I sent him a text to check his e-mail and how to use it. His response was this:

http://imgur.com/gallery/IG7mqVs

Sadly I never really got to know my dad past age 8. He died before I could really understand the art of the dadjoke. Reading a lot of these stories and jokes make me feel like this is how my dad would have been and it makes me giddy, almost to the point of tears some days! I can't help but smile every time I look at this subreddit!

So thanks y'all, and keep on keepin' on!

Two horses are talking in a field. One starts telling a story about the races at sandown, where he was coming last with no chance, when all of a sudden he got this tingling feeling up his back. Went real fast, passed the others and won the race.

Other horse says 'that's amazing' same thing happened to me, I'm trailing the field, and I got a wierd tingle up my back, burst of energy and I won the race.

In the next field a greyhound is walking past, he says to the horses 'excuse me' I couldnt help but overhear your conversation, and I have to tell you that even I, at haydock got that tingle in my back, and won the race.

The one horse turns and says to the other...

'Fucking hell, a talking dog!'

My dad passed away in 2001. He was passionate about technology and into all things tech, my mom was telling me a story about the first computer he built and how he was so excited to have it back in the mid 90's.

"Your dad used to walk in the door and yell "Hi honey! I'm Home! Did you miss me?" while dropping his bags and taking off his shoes, I'd say hi back and ask him how his day was when he would smile and walk right past me to hug his computer and give it a little kiss, then turn to me and say "Oh hey honey" "

I busted up laughing, now knowing where I get my sense of humor.

So I am divorced. My kids live in a different state than me at this time. This morning I called to talk to my daughter (5) about her getting into cheerleading. About halfway through the conversation, I dropped an old gem from my Dad. It ruined the phone call.

Me : "Hey baby girl, you wanna hear a story"

Her : "What now?"

Me : (giggling inside because the tone in her voice already said " FUCK, walked right into this.")

"I was driving to work the other day and an ambulance drove past me fast and a side door opened up. A box fell out, so I stopped to get it. Guess what was in it baby girl?"

Her : "What?"

Me : "A human toe."

Her : falling for it. Dad's know this sound in the voice.

"Eeeewwww. Then what?"

Me : "I called the tow truck!" FUCKING BOOM

Her : "Ok I'm hanging up now, byeeeeeeeeeieeee."

And she really hung up. I love to think she is cursing me in her little head right now...but she'll use it later. They always do.

The CIA had changed its recruiting practices, what with all the recent leaks and other problems. So Mr. Johnson was more than a little surprised to see a pine tree, which was dressed in a rather nice suit, waiting outside his office when he arrived at 9 am. He asked his secretary, "Gladys, who is this?"

"Mr. Johnson, this is Mr. Cone, our newest hire. He wanted to talk with you about the Honduras assignment."

Mr. Johnson spoke to Mr. Cone in his office. His new pine tree colleague was very knowledgeable and well-spoken, but there was something about him that threw Mr. Johnson off. He tried to dismiss his concerns as imaginary, but it gnawed at him all through the morning. He barely touched his lunch, as some of the things Mr. Cone had said were still swirling around and around in his mind. He was sure something was wrong, so he went in to see the head of their office branch, Mr. Smith.

"Johnson! Come right in, come right in," said Mr. Smith, puffing on a cigar. Mr. Johnson poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped at it nervously.

"You're being rather quiet today, Johnson. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

"It's just this new guy, Mr. Cone," Mr. Johnson said carefully, staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "Are we sure we know him as well as we think we do?"

Mr. Smith took only a small puff from his cigar before letting his hand rest back on his desk. "Now really, Johnson," he sighed, "you're a good agent. Your caution has served you well in the past, but paranoia doesn't look so good on you. Mr. Cone has the most impressive resumé I've seen come across my desk in the last fifteen years. I've personally had him vetted by the best men in the business. He's going to be an asset to this office."

That was the response Mr. Johnson had been afraid of getting, but he continued to press his cause. "I understand that, sir. It's just that I'm getting the strangest feeling from this Cone fellow. Don't you think he's a little too perfect? A little too well-qualified?"

Mr. Smith stopped smoking his cigar altogether. A distant look came into his eyes as he mulled over the possibilities. "You don't suppose--"

"Yes," said Mr. Johnson, "I think he's a plant."

Note: I'm a mom, not a dad, but I'm pretty sure I only thought of this because my father-in-law tortures me with these kinds of stories almost constantly.

My 6th grade teacher had a reputation of being the meanest, strictest teacher on campus, but once I made it through his class, I realized he could be a jokester, too.

-In math class, he liked to tell a long, complicated story about a boy encountering a genie, eventually wishing for some odd things, just to end it with the punchline, "Gee, I'm a tree." (geometry)

-Another one of his long jokes consisted of a man being chased by a hearse. In a fit of desperation, he throws some Halls throat lozenges at it...."and the coffin went away."

-During study time, he would sometimes grab a balloon from his desk, blow it up, and proceed to slowly let air out of it, just to produce the squeaky noise.

-His favorite short joke: "Doctor, doctor, I broke my arm in three places!" "I advise you to stay out of those places."

-He was also probably the all-time leader of correcting, "Can I go to the bathroom?"

-He would also occasionally play opera music at the end of the day, not dismissing the class until we made it through an entire song without laughing.

-There were also a couple words that incited a specific reaction from him. Many of these words showed up often in history class, which is his favorite subject (probably because of all the jokes):

• CARGO - "cargo beep beep".

• RAY - Whenever the word or name "ray" was mentioned, he would always respond with "You can call me Ray, or you can call me Jay, but ya doesn't have to call me Johnson." Needless to say, we hated the math lesson about rays.

• HUDSON - During mentions of the Hudson River in history, he would always sing back "HUDSON 3-2-700."

• OKLAHOMA - Whenever Oklahoma came across, he would sing the famous line from Oklahoma! the musical. (with an especially long "ohhhhhhh!")

• SURELY - "...and don't call me Shirley." (but of course, who doesn't respond with that?)

• GERONIMOOOO!!!! - pretty self explanatory.

• Sticking with these obscure quotes and references, his two favorite days of the year are November 5th and March 15th.

Anyway, it was a fun year with that teacher. I'll add more of his quirks if I think of any.

-Also,