A list of puns related to "Room No. 9"
He goes online, trying to find some local up-and-coming bands. He finds a couple of okay options: some country, some rap, some metal… Nothing really sticks out as the next big thing to him though. He keeps at it for an entire weekend, struggling to find something he really likes.
He then stumbles upon this video of an old man, playing the acoustic guitar on his front porch: a beautiful rendition of ‘’Stairway to Heaven’’. Gentle, touching, absolutely gorgeous. The bar owner can’t help but cry. He immediately knows this is the man he wants for his bar, and gets in contact with him.
The musician, over the phone, thank him over and over again for the amazing opportunity. He explains that he’s a retired judge who was pressured to go into law by his parents, over 50 years ago. In his heart, he’s always dreamed of being a musician and to perform in front of a real audience. This is the first time he’ll ever get to do it.
The bar owner is even more touched by his story, and decides to immediately sign him on for 10 night shows. The old judge is over the moon, this is everything he’s ever dreamed of! The two men leave the call, happy and content.
That night, the bar owner hypes all of the regulars, telling them about this amazing new act that they’ll get to see tomorrow. He tells them to bring some friends, bring some family, no one has ever heard music like that before. The patrons are excited and promise to bring everyone they know.
The night arrives, and the old judge gets on stage. The bar is absolutely packed, people give him a standing ovation before he’s even started. Beaming with joy and trying his best not to cry, he calms the audience down. ‘’Thank you, thank you so much, everyone. Thank you to Jim, the owner, for believing in me. I know he loved my cover of ‘Stairway to Heaven’, but tonight, I figured I’d do some original compositions. I hope you like them.’’ He sits down and starts playing.
He slams down on his guitar and lets out a piercing screech. Everyone in the room freezes
For the next half hour, without ever stopping, he plays dozens of discordant chords while yelling incoherent words like ‘’pineapple sauce!’’ and ‘’love and hate are second cousins!’’. He screams then whispers, playing notes that don’t make any sort of reasonable sense.
The audience is stunned. No one dares to say a word. The sweet old man seems so sincere in his rendition, yet it’s just… horrendous.
The owner has a million thoughts racing all at once. How could this h
... keep reading on reddit ➡Last night during a pretty aggressive thunderstorm, a huge lightening strike, along with an incredibly deafening thunder clap happened right next to our house. It was about 11pm and Susan was snuggled up to her Mother next to me in our bed. After a few seconds of Lori saying something soothing to our 9 year old she was holding, saying something like 'its ok, its just a little storm, we are safe...', I call out to our older 12 year old in her room just next door.
"Sarah!?" I called to her, in my normal tone to get her attention.
"Yeah? What?" She responded.
"Was that you?" I called back.
After a long pause Sarah replied "No Dad. That was thunder!"
I could not stop laughing.
Why was the fraction apprehensive about marrying the decimal? Because he would have to convert.
Why do plants hate math? It gives them square roots.
Why did the student get upset when his teacher called him average? It was a mean thing to say!
Why was the math book depressed? It had a lot of problems.
Why is the obtuse triangle always so frustrated? Because it is never right.
Why can you never trust a math teacher holding graphing paper? He must be plotting something.
Why was the equal sign so humble? Because she knew she wasn’t greater than or less than anyone else.
What do you call the number 7 and the number 3 when they go out on a date? The odd couple
What do you call a number that can’t stay in one place? A Roamin’ numeral.
Did you hear the one about the statistician? Probably.
What do you call dudes who love math? Algebros.
I’ll do algebra, I’ll do trig. I’ll even do statistics. But graphing is where I draw the line!
Why should you never talk to Pi? Because she’ll go on and on and on forever.
Why are parallel lines so tragic if they have so much in common? It’s a shame they’ll never meet.
Are monsters good at math? Not unless you Count Dracula.
What’s the best way to flirt with a math teacher? Use acute angle.
Did you hear about the mathematician who is afraid of negative numbers? They’d stop at nothing to avoid them.
How do you stay warm in any room? Just huddle in the corner, where it’s always 90 degrees.
Why is six afraid of seven? Because seven eight ("ate") nine!
Why DID seven eat nine? Because you’re supposed to eat 3 squared meals a day!
Why does nobody talk to circles? Because there is no point.
RETIRED HUSBAND
After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to WalMart. Unfortunately, like most men; I found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like most women - she loves to browse. Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter, from the local WalMart:
Dear Mrs. Harris:
Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion, in our store.
We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to, ban both of you from the store.
Our complaints against your husband, Mr. Harris, are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras:
June 15: He took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other people's carts when they weren't looking.
July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.
July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.
July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, 'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away'. This caused the employee to leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her Supervisor that in turn resulted with a union grievance, causing management to lose time and costing the company money. We don't have a Code 3.
August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&Ms on layaway.
August 14: Moved a, 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.
August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the children shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department to which twenty children obliged.
August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?' EMTs were called.
September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.
September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.
October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while, loudly humming the, 'Mission Impossible' theme.
October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his, 'Madonna Look' using different sizes of funnels.
October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'
October 22: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed;
'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'
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."
So, my dad could be considered a regular jokester. He had his dad jokes, his dirty jokes, clean but provocative joke, setup jokes, everything. He never missed a chance to turn something into a joke for hinself, even, and perpahs especially, if it only amused himself. I found out at an young age that no situation is too serious for him.
I was around 9 years old and I was in the cub scouts, and it was box car derby season. I was in the dining room, carving away at my block of wood when the blade in my right hand skipped the wood and carved my left thumb. It fucking hurt and bled like a sonofabitch. I immediately starting screaming and my dad raced into the room and found me covered in blood, my left hand now with two thumbs. We get it wrapped and he drives me to the emergency room. By the time we got there the bleeding had stopped and I have stopped crying. As we pull up, my dad looks st me, shakes his head and says "We can't go in there like this, we'll end up waiting forever to see a doctor. You need to cry once we're in there and that'll help" I said ok, and he said as we were walking up, "I'll give you a signal to start crying." How will i know, i asked him snd he just said i'll know. We go inside and walk up to the admittance desk. I'm short, so at the time my head just cleared the desk. My dad tells the nurse that we have a cut, and need to see a doctor right away. The nurse pushes paperwork at him and he tells her again, this time that its a real bad cut. The nurse finally looks at me for the first time and she frowns, because im relatively normal looking, even though im hurting and nervous, waiting for my dads signal. My dad pulls me back a bit and her eyes widen really big when she sees all the dried blood caked on the lower left side of my body. She starts getting excited and says "Ohmygoshohmygosh" over and over and this point im starting to get scared when my Dad, in a serious voice says "Its even worse than it looks! You're going to have to take the whole hand!"
Then I start crying.
My dad told me this the first time on Halloween night back when I was 9. He tells it to this day to any of my cousins, nephews, or any kids that happen to linger too long at the house when he's giving out candy. It's a long one but I have always enjoyed it.
Back when I was about your age, I went on a Halloween adventure. There was an old abandoned house on our street where a series of grisly axe murders had taken place years before. The house had never sold and was left vacant and was left to fall apart. There was a local legend that if you went into the house on Halloween night, you'd be confronted by the ghost of the murderer himself, still looking for more victims to add to his terrifying story.
My friend Tom and I decided to go through with it one year. Knowing everyone would be too terrified to go into the house, we snuck in easily on Halloween night. The place was falling apart inside, the carpet was wet and moldy and the wallpaper was peeling off everywhere. We headed down carefully to the basement down a set of creaky stairs.
At first we found nothing. Just an empty creepy old house. Suddenly we felt as if we were being watched. I was looking through one of the rooms in the large basement when I suddenly heard Tom shriek. I spun around and turned my flashlight and Tom was being chased by something, no someone. It looked like it was the murderer! A crazed man with an axe!
We turned and tried to run anywhere. We were in the basement but couldn't get up the stairs because we were blocked. We ran into the side room which looked like it might have been the laundry years ago. We locked the door and looked for a way out. The only thing we could find was a small window that opened onto ground level. As I climbed out I heard a pounding on the door. I managed to wriggle my way through the window and turned around to help my friend Tom. Panicking, he managed to get his top half through the window when I noticed the pounding stop.
Tom was stuck! I kept trying to pull him up but I couldn't. I pulled as hard as I could as Tom panicked and thrashed even more. I thought something had him caught, but it was even worse. The murderer had gotten behind him and was holding him back! He was too strong for me to overcome and he was pulling Tom's leg!
Just like I've been pulling yours this whole time.
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