Soule Puns

Sufferware

Thank god I was in the living room when he came

I've gotta find some porpoise in my life.

A bae-blade.

I was worried, as I'm a bit of a mutt.

She says she didn't care as long as I didn't have Roman hands or Russian fingers.

Put it in the microwave until it’s Bill Withers

He wrote telephone hold music.

They got no soul.

Fausting

“I live in Spain without the ‘s’”.

This inspired me to come up with some truly terrible country-related jokes.

It’s about to Bahrain jokes without the “Bah”.

1. I have a double China without the “a”.

2. Some people have told me that I look a lot like a German without the “an”.

3. Oman, I think that one conspiracy about Israel Israel.

4. You all probably want to hit me with Japan without the “J”.

5. You probably can’t Kuwait to stop reading these without the “Ku”.

6. Nowadays, car companies are focusing on making electric cars, but I Madagascar.

7. As you’ve probably guessed, I don’t even have one Nepal without the “Ne”.

All of these bad jokes made me Hungary so Iran to the nearest shop to get some food. Why am I always India-r need of food?

I sincerely apologise, fellow people. These jokes probably left a painful Denmark on your souls without the “Den”, of course.

A boo-mer (also tell me if this joke has been done before)

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

Any chance she gets she will say, “You are soul.”

Your skele-ton!

Put it in the microwave until its bill withers.

Her soul got repossessed

Gingerly.

Now I want my Nickelback.

He sold his soul to Santa.

At Univer-soul Studios.

I call it my hatchback.

My friend was so obsessed with a ghost girl that people started assuming he's falling for her. So I asked him about the situation to which he responded by saying: "It's nothing serious. She's just a soul, mate"

Right away when we got home he made a bolt for the door.

Turns out he has a lot of spin itch...

Seoul Food

I'd rate it tin out of tin. Big fan

Now he has a new whorecrux

A wreath a Franklin

Running

I was at a funeral a couple weeks ago. We went to church then the reception. Sitting next to my mom, brother and a couple aunts and uncles, I turned to my mom and told her, "I felt like I was losing my soul in church." I received a few astonished looks when my mom asked, "why would you say that?" I picked up my foot and showed her the sole of my shoe coming off.

It was a brisk Saturday morning when Gerald arrived at “The Café,” a hip coffee shop right down the street. Wearing his large, burly black coat, he stared hesitantly at his watch. Thick glasses adorned his bright blue eyes, his gaze like starlight in a clear night sky. He was waiting, intently twiddling his thumbs. After a buzz of his phone, the message from Dad popped up: “Parking now, be there in 5.”

“Dad,” he whispered under his breath, swiping the message away to once again reveal the image on his lock-screen: a hazy picture of an ultrasound.

Gerald had not spoken to his father for three years. They had had a falling out, over which he did not remember. To him it was a competition of who could wait the longest without calling or sending a text. Who could wait the longest: him without a father, or his father without a son? The idea of friction in the relationship hurt like a thorn; piercing his soul more and more everyday. Until recently, out of the blue, “Dad” popped up on his phone. The rest is history. The rest leads to that Saturday morning, at The Café.

Bang! A car door rang out not too far from where Gerald stood. Gerald saw him. His father wore his tweed jacket like a coat of armor. His strut was now weaker than before they stopped talking; a weakness evident in his cane which supported every right step. His shortly trimmed white beard juxtaposed against his uncut, curly grey hair gave him the image of a wise wizard from a fairytale. He used to be that figure to Gerald, yet instead of a nice ancient being acting like a stone to keep him grounded, Gerald had felt as though his father was a rock pulling him deeper and deeper into a sea of monotony. Holding him back from his true potential. Maybe that was why he left? He still did not know.

“Hello, son,” came the withered voice Gerald had sook for so long, yet now that it had arrived wanted to avoid. “I can’t believe it’s been so long!”

“Yeah,” said Gerald, allowing a smile to grace his face. “Too long!”

Then they hugged, signifying a change in their relationship. Gerald had hoped something could happen to bring them closer together. He did not want to go on wondering what could have been. The regret and sadness weighed him down. Before starting a new family, Gerald wanted to be reacquainted with his own.

After finding their table and sitting down, the two began to discuss life. It was like old friends catching up after a long break. Although it took some time, Gerald began to warm u

It was Cole's Law.

" souluble " materials.

I'm just saying... The dementors never went for Ron Weasley.

because he lives there.

It was a soul-crushing experience.

Put it in the oven until its Bill Withers.

(A tribute to Bill - RIP)

“I live in Spain without the ‘s’”.

This inspired me to come up with some truly terrible country-related jokes.

It’s about to Bahrain jokes without the “Bah”.

1. I have a double China without the “a”.

2. Some people have told me that I look a lot like a German without the “an”.

3. Oman, I think that one conspiracy about Israel Israel.

4. You all probably want to hit me with Japan without the “J”.

5. You probably can’t Kuwait to stop reading these without the “Ku”.

6. Nowadays, car companies are focusing on making electric cars, but I Madagascar.

7. As you’ve probably guessed, I don’t even have one Nepal without the “Ne”.

All of these bad jokes made me Hungary so Iran to the nearest shop to get some food. Why am I always India-r need of food?

I sincerely apologise, fellow people. These jokes probably left a painful Denmark on your souls without the “Den”, of course.

Put it in the microwave until it’s Bill Withers.

Put it in the microwave until its Bill Withers

Cook it till it's Bill Withers