The Beginning or the End Puns

I Thoth I'd get more of a Ha, Heh, and a maybe even a Kek out of her, but instead she thinks I'm a Nut! I even got all dressed up in my best Khepri shorts to practice on my material with her. I had hoped she'd be more agreeable to them, but she even started bullying me, grabbed my arm and Hatmehit myself a few times, so I told her to stop with that and Imentet! I don't like being treated like some street Mut!

I tried to tell her, "Babi, please stop!" She, however, was having Nun of it! It was starting to Geb me a bruise! Besides, I hadn't even gotten to my Bastet ones yet! So I told myself Heqet all! I'm gonna tell my jokes, because at least they make me Hapi! She didn't care, just told me to Shu! Said I was a Nemty-headed fool. How rude!

Being a Tefnut to crack, I called for the Aten-tion of my friends so they could at least listen to my whole Set, and busted out with this great Amun-gus joke! I certainly thought it was a Neith little joke, but right off the Bat, they were telling me to Wadjet with the dumb puns, and I need to Wadj-wer I'm taking these jokes. One of them even did a literal face-palm and stood up to leave! I told him to stop that, because I don't like to see Menhit themselves, or anyone for that matter, so thankfully, Hesat down again.

I tried Anhur-ther time, but another friend accused me of Nepit-ism! I told him he clearly never Nu what that word meant to begin with, Aani just spits in my face! Ptah! I really Maat him angry, it seems. Nothing but Ra Ra rabble rabble with him....I wanted to wash his mouth out and see how the Sopdu in fixing that bad attitude of his...

After that treatment, I had no choice but to Pakhet in. Bennu really rough day dealing with all this pushback. Neper again will I tell another pun. Isis the error of my ways now and learned a valuable lesson today: Even the closest people in your life will either like the jokes you Hathor they won't. If they don't, you just have to Reshep your comedy routine to the crowd you're playing to, otherwise, you'll upset your girlfriend so badly, you'll end up sleeping in the Shed!

Some stories have hooks.

This story has a bloody good one.

It's about love—

Or at least marriage.

My marriage.

At heart, it's your typical fish out of water story, but like I said there's a hook.

The hook's in the beginning.

Although it's really the tail end that's most moving—at least now, when our love's drying up.

Understand:

I'm a fisherman, and I caught my wife with another man.

Well, I caught the man first.

I used Craigslist.

But I suppose the details don't really matter. It's enough to know that by the time he was naked in the shed it was too late for him to change his mind.

He broke down easily. He wasn't particularly thick skinned.

That's where the hook came in—

pushed through a fold of flesh on his back.

He wasn't much in the size department, but I didn't intend for him to get hung up on it. Unfortunately, he kept trying to escape, so what choice did I have? Then he seemed quite insecure, so I pierced him with another steel hook just in case.

Like I said:

Bloody good hook.

After he stopped struggling, I took him down and dragged him to my boat. Then we went fishing.

Hold on, though.

I may need to backtrack a little, because you may be wondering how I even knew she was out there.

The answer is: I'd already seen her swimming a few times.

It was love at first sight.

Like many couples nowadays we met on the net.

So back to when I was fishing:

I was in my boat with the Craigslist man with the steel hooks in his back. I had tied a thick rope to one of the hooks, placed the man onto a net, and pushed them both overboard. He splashed and choked, attracting a lot of attention.

I waited for her call.

It came.

She sounded so near to me.

When she swam just close enough to the Craigslist man in the water, I pulled in the net—and there she was: shining, mine to the gills and writhing so enticingly!

I took her ashore.

I placed her in a water tank and told her she would be my wife.

I screwed her—

shut.

For days I watched her bang—

on the glass.

Until one day it happened: the glass cracked, the tank broke open, and with the water she spilled onto the floor.

Now here I am, watching my marriage fall apart.

Her gills are barely stirring.

Her face: dry and still.

It's only her scaly tail that's still gently moving.

I caught my wife with another man. I met her on the net. I thought our love would last forever, but now, listening to her shriek, I realize I was catfished! I wanted to marry a siren—but this thing is nothing

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

So we were coming back from a mountain biking trip and we passed a sign that said "Coda." Both of us being musicians I said, "Hm, looks like we're gonna have to go back there when we get home."

If you don't get it in some musical pieces the composer will put in a coda. They could put in a DS al coda or DC al coda which means either go back to the beginning or a weird s marking, play to the word coda then skip to the coda symbol and play to the end.