The Golden Eyes Puns

Back in the 90s, I remember playing some N64 after school when my dad came home from work. He comes into the living room and asks me what's up and, as a teen, I say "nuthin" and keep playing while he just stands there. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see he's looking at me with a stupid grin on his face that's he's trying to suppress poorly. Finally, he asks me to pause the game. I turn to him and he asks "You want a Hertz donut?" I obviously know this joke, but to make it worse, he's already making a fist, ready at his side. I roll my eyes and say "No, I do not want a Hertz donut." He just relaxes his hand and says surprised "Oh, you don't? You sure?" I say I'm sure and he says okay and walks back out to his car, leaving me to return to my GoldenEye. A few seconds later, he comes strolling back in the room, with a box of a dozen donuts in his hand, while he's eating one, with the same stupid grin on his face. On the box of donuts, "Dunkin" has been crudely crossed out and Hertz written beneath it in Sharpie marker. He walks into the kitchen saying "Guess you won't be having these Hertz donuts!" I'm in awe. I follow him into the kitchen and he finally relents and lets me take a donut. I ask him "So, you bought these donuts, and just put this joke together on the way home?" He says he thought of the joke earlier in the day at work and had to buy the donuts for the bit. I start laughing hysterically thinking about him sitting at work itching to leave to pull this off. As we sit there, quietly eating these donuts, he breaks the silence with a mouth full of donut, with "Had to stop at CVS to pick up a Sharpie too." I almost choked on the donut jimmies.

TLDR: Dad offered a Hertz donut, should've taken him up on it.

I just came back from a holiday back to the UK to visit friends and family (am an expat).

While we were there we went to a nice community festival, with some great beers. An American friend of a friend proudly proclaimed that he’d bought a pint of red stout.

Looking up at the board, and seeing the name of the beer, my eyes lit up: a golden opportunity had just presented itself.

‘Nah mate, that’s not red stout, it’s called Red Stoat. You do know what a stoat is, right?

[confusion]

‘Well, it’s a little rodent, a bit like a weasel. You know how you can tell the difference between a stoat and a weasel?’

‘Er..’

‘Well’, I says, ‘a weasel is weasily identifiable, and a stoat is stoatally different.’

Cue a puzzled look on the guys face, and a moment’s silence, broken by me and my friend pissing ourselves laughing, not at the joke of course, but at his reaction.

So this was all very well and good, just another in the litany of bad jokes that floats in my wake, and I thought the story ended there.

Karma, however, had other plans…

A few days later, we’re up in the Lake District, walking back to the hotel after a pub dinner. As we’re walking down the road, we see a small carnivorous rodent dragging the recently deceased body of a rabbit back to its home. It was either a stoat, or a weasel, but you know what? I honestly had no way to tell which…