Table (information) Puns

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.

Context: My mother's maiden name is Shearing and she had been at her parents, helping them out for a few days (they live far away) and had been talking about getting the wifi password, which was difficult.

So she said that she phoned her sister, but that a co-worker of her sister picked up. After being asked if he could help, my mother replied "Well unless you can tell me my dad's wifi password..." He laughingly replied "Sorry, that's not the type of information we share in this office."

Now my dad looks across the table, smiles and says "It's not the type of information they Shearing that office?"

When my brother and I were little, we put out milk and cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeers on Christmas eve, and woke up on Christmas morning to find them mostly eaten. We were delighted at proof of our nighttime visitors.

The next year our dad told us he had gotten an inside tip from the north pole: that Santa actually liked ramen and beer, not milk and cookies (as other, less well informed, dads and kids had always thought).

For years, we dutifully cooked ramen, put it on a table by the fireplace with a cold beer on the side, and woke up to the ramen and beer having been consumed in the night.

I knew my dad wasn't fond of milk or cookies, but it wasn't until later that we connected the dots and found out the deal about Santa. My dad was the one who ate the Santa food once we went to bed, and he had secretly convinced us to prepare his ideal midnight snack for as long as we believed in Santa.