Run This Town Puns

Hopefully someone catches it.

His best friend, Roy, was known around town for having an adventurous streak that a small town just couldn't satisfy. Roy yearned to travel the world, to rub shoulders with the well-to-do, and to squeeze every drop of excitement he could out of life. While most young folk in town, my grandpa included, were resigned to their lot, Roy was driven by his dream. He worked incredibly hard, taking every hired-hand and handy-man job he could find. He would walk five miles each way to clean a gutter if there was a nickel to be made. His hometown was always spotless, because Roy would pick up every glass bottle he saw to get the deposit back, and every can he found would get turned in for recycling.

The years stretched on. Grandpa settled down with his high school sweetheart in a one-room cottage and had my dad, and not much else. Roy kept hurrying from one job to the next, never spending a dime on a date. Everyone would just roll their eyes and quietly gossip about how poor Roy's obsession was robbing him of a real life.

One day, Roy showed up at Grandpa's house, all decked out in a brand new khaki safari kit, complete with helmet, binoculars, and elephant gun, and announced that he had finally saved up enough for passage to Africa to go big game hunting. He was especially proud of the fine leather boots he was sporting. "Indestructable" he called them, totally impenetrable to water, wind, and snow. No trench-foot for him while he tracked rhinos on the savannah!

Grandpa congratulated Roy on his achievement and wished him bon voyage. Over the next three months, the town felt Roy's absence. Litter lay where it fell, gutters overflowed in heavy rain, small-time farmers rose that bit earlier and bedded that bit later to cover the work Roy used to help with. Of course, the gossipers just turned their chat from how Roy needed a dose of reality to how thoughtless it was of him to just up and leave. Most folks were convinced Roy was gone for good. After all, how could he come back from such a high-falutin' adventure to his tiny, no-account hometown?

But return Roy did, and everyone crowded around at the bar to hear his account of his safari. To their surprise, Roy told them that, for all the time he had been away, he only bagged one trophy that was currently on a slow boat back. It turned out, once Roy got a close-up look at the elephants, rhinos, giraffes, gazelles, and all the fine animals of the African savannah, he lost all heart for hunting. He just couldn't imagi

(props to my grandpa for this one)

the man is terrified for his life because in his town, coffins were the #1 cause of death. So he starts running and he hears a clunk clunk clunk behind him, so he runs to his house to try to find shelter. The coffin breaks down the door and stars running after him. The man runs into the bathroom where he's cornered by the coffin, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He reached into the medicine cabinet and threw a bottle at it, and it stopped coffin.

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

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 remember years ago when in my remote town in Alaska there were 10 men stuck underground. I don't recall the circumstances that got them into this situation but it was clear that if they didn't get out soon they weren't going to make it.

All of our local rescue and public services were unable to get them out and they were running out of time. With only 18 hours remaining they sent for the only expert who could help, a rescue operations legend Mr. Puh. If he could get a plane into town it could make all the difference.

I remember gathering around the radio, biting our nails, as weather conditions worsened and threatened the planes journey.

I don't remember how long I stayed awake that night, but I will never forget the words I heard when I turned the radio on in the morning: "Puh not in, ten dead."

So, my town has a major highway that runs through it, and a bridge that people can walk over. Well, some guy decides to tie a ball to a string and dangle it over the side of the bridge. That way, any car that goes under the bridge will think they hit something and the guy could have a good laugh. Well, a semi comes through, and the ball gets caught on the mirror. The guy's arm gets ripped clean off, and he's sent to the hospital right away. The truck driver gets pulled over as he's passing through another town. The arm is still dangling from the mirror. The truck driver is then arrested, for armed robbery. (Badum-tsss) (Thank you, thank you. I can't wait to get 3 whole karma for this one.)

So this group of Irish monks needs to make payments on their belfry, and they've begun to run out of money, so after racking their brains for a few nights, and trying everything they could to get some cash together, they decide to sell flowers to make money. For weeks they sell flowers, and it's going well. Too well in fact, they've begun to run the local florist, Patty O'Flannigan out of town. Well, a bit cheesed at the monks jumping in on his territory, he decides to confront them. He asks them to step off, politely, but they simply respond that, "That's no way to talk to men of God!", and throw him out of their monastery. For weeks this goes on, the monks selling flowers, and the florist getting more and more desperate to make them stop. Finally, he goes to Hugh Mactaggart, the biggest, baddest man in town -- he could get anyone to leave town -- so Patty decides he's the best way to get rid of the monks, gives him the rest of the money, and retires to bed, wary of the results. In the morning, a knock on his door reveals Mactaggart, offering a firm handshake and saying, "They shant be botherin' ya again Patty." The moral of the story is, Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars.

A judge was interviewing a woman regarding her pending divorce, and asked, "What are the grounds for your divorce?" She replied, "About four acres and a nice little home in the middle of the property with a stream running by." "No," he said, "I mean what is the foundation of this case? "It is made of concrete, brick and mortar," she responded. "I mean," he continued, "What are your relations like?' "I have an aunt and uncle living here in town, and so do my husband's parents." The judge said, "Do you have a real grudge?" "No," she replied, "We have a two-car carport and have never really needed one." "Please," he tried again, "is there any infidelity in your marriage?' "Yes, both my son and daughter have stereo sets. We don't necessarily like the music, but the answer to your questions is yes." "Ma'am, does your husband ever beat you up?" "Yes," she responded, "about twice a week he gets up earlier than I do." Finally, in frustration, the judge asked, "Lady, why do you want a divorce?" "Oh, I don't want a divorce," she replied. "I've never wanted a divorce. My husband does. He said he can't communicate with me."

A wealthy man who occasionally dabbled in black-market affairs was strolling through town one day. One of his associates came running up to him with some bad news. "Sir, the shipment from Singapore is late" his associate said. "DO NOT talk to me about these affairs in public you fool!" the wealthy man blurted back. "My apologies, sir. Would you prefer to discuss this in your home?" his associate replied. The wealthy man responded "Yes, please speak to me in the manor to which I'm accustomed."

We planned on going to this really cool mexican restaurant in town but she was running late.

Me: How long are you gonna be?

Her: Almost done, just have to blow-dry my hair.

Me: Well blow-dry all of them, WE GOTTA GO!

she chuckled but it could just be from her plotting my "accidental" death in her head.

My wife's going out of town, and I mentioned that we should make a run to the grocery store before she leaves. In case either of us get stranded because of snow.

"I just want to make sure it snow problem."

groan

"Hey, you married me, and that snowbody's fault but yours.

Frantically grabs her overear headphones and puts them on. She hasn't yet plugged them in.

"Snow way you can't hear me!" I shout.

She scrambles for the cord plugging it in. A few minutes later she looks up.

"This is how I know you'll make a great dad."

I was asked to help chauffeur a carload of youth around town for a Christmas caroling activity last night. One of the names on the list was Jack, who lost his wife earlier this year. Jack is in his early 90's, stands about 5'2, and is quite possibly the king of all dad jokes.

So, the group of about 25 kids and 5 adults sneak up to his doorstep and begin singing a few short Christmas carols. Eventually, he opens the door and is thrilled to have visitors.

After we are finished singing and the kids are all running back to the vehicles to get out of the 15 degree weather, jack steps out of his doorway and on to his porch. He is wearing a light t-shirt and pajama pants... he was setting us up, and we took the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

Woman: Are you freezing?

Jack: No, I'm not freezing, I'm Jack (pause for laughter)

Jack: but if you hang on for just a minute, I can get freezing for you.

and then he just stood there smiling at us. It was precious. Come to find out, Jack is entering a retirement home in a few days because he is getting to the point that it is hard to take care of himself anymore.

Oh boy, those nurses are in for a treat once Jack gets settled in.

We'll be walking around town and we'll see somebody running or jogging, and he'll yell, "slow down! There's a speed limit on this road!"

My father runs a smoke shop in a small town. A young man comes in, and my father introduces him to me as the grandson of two of his other customers whom I have meet previously.

'Red, this it Ty, he's the grandson of Bob and Greg.'

Red: 'Bob and Greg are married?'

My son witnessed it, but I fear he may have been too young to remember this moment.