So Far Gone Puns

[removed]

There once was this fella was born with a silver screw in his belly button. His parents, and later himself, searched far and wide trying to find someone that knew how this happened and how to remove it. As he grew older he cared less and less about the "how" and more about the removal. One day in his never-ending search he encountered a wizened woman who said that she knew of a place where you could go and a mysterious force would be able to remove the screw. But, before she provided the location she asked him if this was REALLY something he wanted done and if he knew all the consequences of his desire. The man hastily said that he was 10000% sure and more than well informed of the consequences. So, she gave him the location of the cave and the instructions on how to gain the help of the mysterious force. He was to go to the cave and sleep nude in the cave over night and by the morning his request would be fulfilled. He made his way to the spot with all due haste and followed the instructions to the letter. He did this and fell into a sound sleep. During the night a heavy fog rolled into the cave and a shining silver screwdriver floated into the cave with it. It floated down to the man and gently removed the screw. When the man woke up in the morning and saw the screw on the ground beside him he quickly reached down and felt his belly button. The screw was gone! He sprung up with great joy but the minute he landed after his leap of joy his butt fell off. He froze in horror and started to scream "Why did my butt fall off?" over and over.

The moral of the story is "Don't mess with things you don't understand or you will lose your butt."

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

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.

A Christmas Poem
by Dad (1952–2009)

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the shack,
Not a creature was stirring, we was all in the sack;

Our mugs were placed on the mantle with cheer,
In hope that Saint Nick would bring us a beer;

And me I was tucked up all snug in my bed,
But strains of sweet music still danced through my head;

So I sprang from my bed with a crash and a clatter,
And off down the hall with bare feet did I patter;

There on the chair sat my musical pipe,
So I sat down to play without fanfare or hype;

Come Mozart, come Hayden, Stravinski and Strauss,
And write me some music to bring down the house;

When down from the chimney appeared with a crash,
A strange little man in the smoke and the ash;

He wiggled and jumped and got up like a shot,
Came over and said, "Man those cinders are hot!";

His stomach it shook like a bowl full of jelly,
For a moment I thought it was dear old aunt Nelly;

His nose like a cherry, his ears like two jugs,
I was worried that this guy just might be on drugs;

His language was foul, his jokes they were crass,
So I opened the door and threw him out on his ass;

But then as I turned, boy was I ever surprised;
I saw what he'd bought me, or so I surmised;

For there in the corner right under the tree,
Was some brand new sheet music and a case of O.V.;

I turned to say thank-you but found he had gone,
He was not in the garden and not on the lawn;

And just when I thought that he couldn't get far,
I realized the old goat had stolen the car;

Off in the distance he said with a wheeze,
"I hated to do it but you left me the keys!";

I smiled and laughed for this much I could savour,
For I'd just sold the car to my idiot neighbour;

And once more he called as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and don't drive when you're tight!"

Thank you for everything, Dad. We love and miss you.

So having just seen this subreddit, I realize that my dad makes dad jokes too!

Here's some examples!

Whenever I / my sister would fall, or crash into something. Like, say, I fell on the floor

Me: Owww! Dad! I fell on the floor!

Dad: Oh no! Is the floor alright?!

(ba dum chhh!)

My sister's name is Helga, which can also translate to weekend in Norwegian

Dad: Question.

Helga: Yeah?

Dad: What are you doing in the weekend, weekend?

(ba dum bow-bow kachika-wow chhh!!)

Dad and me are avid fishers, so we've gone on fishing-trips in the nearby fjord, my dad is the type who buys the most expensive gear and fancies himself a bit of an expert

Dad: Say, let's make this interesting, let's have a fishing competition!

Me: Okay!

later that day I had gotten by far the most and biggest catches

Me: Hah, I won dad!

Dad: No, no. We weren't fishing about the most fish caught, the winner was the one with the least fish! I won!

(ba chinka dinga ka pow, bow dow kow!!!)

... Okay, so maybe the last one wasn't much of a joke, though. Hope you enjoyed the dadly jokes.