The IT Crowd Puns

Folks are lined up for blocks!

There was no body, arms or legs to him but he was functioning normal and his parents loved him. On his 21st birthday his dad took him to a bar, bought him a beer and gave it to him to drink. Suddenly his torso grew out of his head. Around him amazed the bar started chanting “Drink, Drink!” His dad got a second beer and gave it to him, this time he grew arms and hands. The stunned crowd all chanted again “Drink, Drink” He got his third beer and drank it himself with his new hands, suddenly legs and feet grew. The crowd applauded and cheered. The son couldn’t believe it and started to run. He ran around in circles and then out of the bar. Unfortunately he ran into the road, got hit by a truck and was killed instantly. The barman looked at his dad, sighed and said “He should have quit while he was a head”

So, I decided to sell my vacuum cleaner the other day. It was just gathering dust!

What kind of bagel can fly? A plane one!

I went to a graveyard the other day, it was really crowded. I figure people are dying to get in.

Didja hear about the guy who invented the knock-knock joke? He won the no-bell prize!

What do you call a pointless pachyderm? An Irrelepahnt!

Why couldn't the bicycle stand up by itself? It was two-tired!

Ever hear about the restaurant on the moon? No atmosphere at all.

And to end it all: "I bet if I gave you some thyme you could mustard a response to this complete a-salt on language, but for now we're just beefing around!"

... so they can beat the crowds!

Edit: Wow, this is now my second highest upvoted post ever, and it's not even my own joke! Totally should have credited the video I saw this in: https://www.reddit.com/r/PublicFreakout/comments/h8btkp/protester_has_a_joke_for_the_police_officers/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

Thanks for the laughs and great comment threads, Reddit :)

Person 1: What is your opinion on that one classic pulling the bunny out of the hat trick?

Person 2: I think raises some hare-raising questions.

P1: How so?

P2: It just begs the question of how it affects the rabbits themselves. After all, the magicians were pulling them out without a carrot the world.

P1: You raise at interesting point.

P2: We all know it's because of the secret compartment, you know? And, to minimize the suspiciousness of the hat, the compartment is as small as possible?

P1: Yes

P2: It must be very uncomfurtable to be in that space, and then be grabbed by the ears and raised high in front of a crowd. Like, don't get me wrong, I love magic tricks, but I wand to specify that i honestly feel that this trick in particular is quite inhumane.

To beat the crowd.

Edit: All credit goes to u/AleoMoorea, who posted it here.

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

A high schooler wants to ask his best female friend to prom. Because they’ve been friends for so long, he really wants to make his “promposal” special. He talks to his friends, he talks to her friends, and spends days planning the perfect moment. Happily, she says yes!

Over the next couple of months, she sends him different styles and colors of ideas for her dress. He tells honestly that she’s always been beautiful to him, and privately to himself, he is now realizing he has strong feelings for her. He knows he needs to tell her.

The night of the prom, he’s extremely anxious. What if he says something stupid? What if she laughs at him or doesn’t return his feelings? What if she thinks he’s a terrible dancer? All of these thoughts are swirling around in his mind as both their parents fuss over them and make them pose for a million photos.

They get to the prom and he’s even more anxious. It’s dark, it’s loud, it’s crowded. They have to shout to be heard. But she grabs his hand, leads him to the dance floor, and they forget everything and everyone around them. A while later, as the songs have gotten slower, he can feel his heart pounding. He thinks it’s finally the right time. He leans down and whispers the truth in her ear, the truth about having loved her since they met in second grade. She starts to cry happy tears, saying she’s always loved him too, and they kiss. As the song ends and changes to something fast again, he asks her if she’d like to sit and have a drink. She says yes, could he please get her some punch?

He feels like he’s walking on clouds as he goes over to where the drinks and food are laid out. He wants to get back to her right away and hopes he doesn’t have to wait too long at the refreshments table.

He makes his way through the crowd, and is able to get their drinks and return to his waiting love within just a couple of minutes. Because, would you believe it?

There was no punch line.

The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave.

Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.

When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."

He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."

So the magistrate kept listening, "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..."

Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate.

He stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery, "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."

Halfway through the show, the music stops and Bono stands middle stage clapping his hands every few seconds. "Every time I clap my hands, a child in Africa dies" Without missing a beat, from somewhere in the front of the crowd a man bellows out in a thick Irish accent: "Well stop fucking doing it ya evil bastard!"

Being tired and weary, the lawyer-onion isn't sure whether to go, but decides he needs cheering up.

So he dresses smartly, puts on his favorite aftershave and heads over to his friend's.

He gets to the party to find it quite a packed affair and heads over to the bar - fighting through crowds of reveller-onions - to get a drink.

As he gets to the bar, he notices in one corner a slightly out-of-place female onion.

She looks a bit sad and being the compassionate onion that he is, he heads over to talk to her.

This is quickly affirmed as a good move, as they hit it off immediately; she was abandoned by her friends shortly after arriving and had been minding her own business ever since, but over a night of drinks and talking, they quickly fall into an infatuation and soon end up spending an oniony night of passion together.

When they awake in the morning, they don't find it awkward and a steady relationship between the two is struck.

This lasts a good while, having its ups and downs like any college relationship, but eventually the day comes when they both graduate.

The two couldn't be happier!

They both get jobs close to one another and move into an apartment together.

One day, the partner-onion is anxiously awaiting the lawyer-onion at home.

She's been ill all day and checking has confirmed her suspicions.

She tearfully - and joyfully - breaks the news to the lawyer-onion; they're going to have a tiny baby-onion together.

A shallot, if you will.

A few days later, this prompts the lawyer-onion to propose to his heretofore girlfriend-onion.

They are soon wed, having a fantastic wedding-day and husband and wife-onions are on top of the world.

The day comes of the birth and no complications - a tiny, healthy baby onion is born to two proud parents.

Seeing this little bundle of oniony love in their arms causes them to fall deeper in love than ever.

Over the next few years, husband-and-wife-onions' lives are fantastic.

He's prospering at work, she's really enjoying taking some time to raise the baby-onion and over time the baby-onion grows into a hale and hearty toddler-onion, who then becomes a child-onion.

One day, the idyll of the onions' lives is shattered when tragedy strikes.

The lawyer-onion (now a partner-onion in a prestigious law firm due to chance and hard work) is at work, and mother-onion is washing dishes and watching her child play in the yard.

She glances away to take another plate and turns her vision back to

She asked the pastor of a local church if he knew of any houses with rooms to rent that were close to town, but out in the country. The pastor kindly drove her out to see a house with a room to rent. She loved the house and decided to rent the room. Then, the lady returned to her home in England to make her final preparations to move to Switzerland.

When she arrived back home, the thought occurred to her that she had not seen a “W.C.” in the room or even down the hall. (A W.C. is short for “water closet” and is what the English call a toilet.) So she immediately emailed the pastor to ask him where the “W.C.” is located.

The Swiss pastor had never heard of a “W.C.,” and so he Googled the abbreviation and found an article titled “Wayside Chapels.” Thinking that the English lady was asking about a country church to attend near her new home, the pastor responded as follows:

Ms. Smith,

I look forward to your move. Regarding your question about the location of the W.C., the closest W.C. is situated only two miles from the room you have rented, in the center of a beautiful grove of pine trees. The W.C. has a maximum occupancy of 229 people, but not that many people usually go on weekdays. I suggest you plan to go on Thursday evenings when there is a sing-along. The acoustics are remarkable and the happy sounds of so many people echo throughout the W.C.

Sunday mornings are extremely crowded. The locals tend to arrive early and many bring their lunches to make a day of it. Those who arrive just in time can usually be squeezed into the W.C. before things start, but not always. Best to go early if you can!

It may interest you to know that my own daughter was married in the W.C. and it was there that she met her husband. I remember how everyone crowded in to sit close to the bride and groom. There were two people to a seat ordinarily occupied by one, but our friends and family were happy to share.  I will admit that my wife and I felt particularly relieved when it was over. We were truly wiped out.

Because of my responsibilities in town, I can’t go as often as I used to. In fact, I haven’t been in well over a year. I can tell you I really miss regularly going to the W.C. Let’s plan on going together for your first visit. I can reserve us seats where you will be seen by all.

Sincerely,

Pastor Kurt Meier

20 Was in the lead "24 the win!" The crowd shouted. Sadly 30 challenged him and 31. But they realized it was a tie! Because 0, 1, 2! And they all 8 together, The end.

In 1827, after Beethoven died, he was buried outside the local church, in the graveyard, and people came to pay their respects frequently.

One morning, about a week after the funeral, two girls came to leave some flowers on his grave, only to hear strange, unearthly sounds coming from it. Creeped out, they called for the local Paranormal Investigator.

The Investigator arrived an hour later, and with him, a small crowd, who had come to see what was happening to the composer’s grave.

Suddenly, one member of the crowd exclaimed, “I recognise that sound! It’s his 9th Symphony, backwards!”

Soon after, another said, “and that’s his 8th, backwards!”

After leaning closer to the grave to inspect this for himself, the Investigator straightened himself up, gave a soft chuckle, and said:

“Never fear, ladies and gentlemen! Beethoven’s just decomposing.”

and he just stands there, surveying the assemblage as the room goes quiet. And suddenly he yells, "All you dirty bastards, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

And the crowd rushing the exists raises a cloud of dust, obscuring vision. When it settled, the gunslinger notices one little wizened old man tucked in a corner beside the piano. The gunslinger walks over, his spurs making a small jingling sound. He stands in front of the still-seated old man. "WELL?," he demands.

The old man looks up earnestly into the gunslinger's face, "Sure was a lot of 'em, wasn't ther?".

It wanted to beat the crowd.

Not many people are aware of its existence but I assure that it is there all the same. The king of this little land faces a lot of difficulty. He wants to make his kingdom into a sovereign nation but unfortunately they do not have the infrastructure, population, or economy to do so. In fact, this small state is only known for a single export. Thanks to their proximity to some of the finest gold and other metals in the world but total lack of an ability to process those metals on a mass scale, they have been left with only one option. You know the saying; when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Make lemonade they did. This tiny territory is renowned for creating the highest quality watches in the world. No expense is spared and their elite group of craftsmen train for their entire lives from childhood to produce these terrific timepieces. Men of great wealth and taste have been known to trade entire fortunes for just a single one of these watches; that is how valuable they are.

The king knows this and he knows that only a small portion of his populace can ever hope to become one of the respected elite, let alone hold one of their masterpieces in their own hands. Being a very just and fair man, the king ordered the most senior watchmaker in the land to create something the likes of which had never been seen. A watch of such great craftsmanship so as to be above monetary value. The man labored long and hard for many nights to produce the king's watch. When he at last presented the completed work to his lord - in front of the entire nation, no less - he was met with thunderous applause and a warm embrace. He had done it! The king then made a shocking announcement.

"This masterpiece belongs to my people!"

When the roaring of the crowd died down he continued.

"This watch shall be a symbol of my love for all of you. Though I rule over you with supreme authority I do not wish a single one of you to feel that you do not have a voice in the ruling of this nation. From this day on let anyone who doubts my decisions or questions my judgment wear this watch and stand as my equal to voice their concerns. Should even a single one of you think me unfair or wrong in any matter then simply come to my castle and I will present you this token of good faith."

The king made good on his word and from that day on all citizens knew they held the right to challenge their king's rulings. Over time the watch became a symbol of fairness throughout the land. Anyone who wore it

The crowd told him he wouldn't be able to swim, but he was in denile.

Come to think of it, I heard about a guy in France doing the same thing, but I'm pretty sure he was inseine.

(From Abbott and Costello’s radio show, December 30, 1943)
Lou Costello: Oh, Abbott, the worst thing just happened to me!
Bud Abbott: No!
Lou Costello: Yeah, Mrs. Niles gave me a dog for a Christmas present, and the dog just took a great big bite out of me!
Bud Abbott: Where did he bite you?
Lou Costello: Well, if I’d have been wearing a license plate, he’d have gotten the last three numbers.
Bud Abbott: Where did this happen?
Lou Costello: Well, let me see, where did this happen — in a crowded streetcar. It was the first time I ever gave my seat to a dog.
Bud Abbott: Well, never mind that. What kind of a dog did Mrs. Niles give you?
Lou Costello: Do you remember that famous dog, Strongheart?
Bud Abbott: Yes, I remember Strongheart.
Lou Costello: Well, this is his brother — Weak Stomach.
Bud Abbott: Listen, I’m not talking about that. What is the dog’s breed?
Lou Costello: What does he breed? He breeds through his nose, like you and me!
Bud Abbott: No, no, no, you dummy, what kind of dog is he? Spitz?
Lou Costello: No, but he drools a little.
Bud Abbott: Look, there are different types of dogs, such as Setters, and Pointers, …
Lou Costello: That’s it, Abbott! He’s a Setter-Pointer!
Bud Abbott: A Setter-Pointer?
Lou Costello: Yeah, he sets all day and points at the icebox! (Editor’s note: we now call an “icebox” a “refrigerator”)

I was sitting at a moderately crowded bar last night enjoying dinner when an older couple came up and sat next to me. We exchanged hellos and I continued eating my jambalaya. After a bit, the husband finally knew what he wanted to drink.

Husband: "Do you have (so and so) beer?"

Bartender: "Hang on a sec, I'll check."

As the bartender walked away, the husband held both of his arms in the air, closing his hands into fists right above his head, a la Steve Holt. After about 30 seconds, and you could tell she really didn't want to, the wife asks what he's doing.

Wife: "Honey, why are your arms in the air?"

Husband: "I'm hanging on."

The wife rolls her eyes and I laugh inappropriately loudly. He grins.

So at this point, the joke has been made. It's over. But no! He's in it for the long haul. He kept his arms in the air for a solid 3 more minutes, just so the bartender could get in on the joke. She returns with his bottle of beer.

Husband: "Can I stop hanging on now?"

Bartender groans.

Wife: "Yes, please."

I admire his dedication. And his taste in beer.

Some of them were pretty strange: only he could understand them and explaining the 'pun' to somebody else would take like half an hour. Anyway-

He said, "So I'll go first?"

I said sure.

I think he took "pun-a-thon" a bit too literally - he took out a marker and drew a point, and then he kept drawing this straight line (he's good at drawing straight lines) while taking how many ever steps back. I for one was concerned, because first off I didn't know how long I'd have to stick around for this, and second of all, I didn't know if I could clean the mess he'd inevitably leave behind.

He kept drawing this line! We stepped out of my living room, then my apartment which was on ground-level, and he kept drawing it. He drew his line all the way through the corridor, up until the entrance to the building, and when I kept asking him if he's done yet, he didn't say a word. I had to keep subtly reassuring security and everyone who was staring at my friend hunched over like that robot from Wall-E.

He stepped out of the building and kept on drawing his line. At this point I was trying to guess what the hell is the outcome. I kept screaming punchlines at him like "is this where you draw the line?", "are you going to punch me after this so this is a punchline?" and shit like that. There were people following us and two were taking videos and it was really fucking uncomfortable.

Right after he was outside the building and the premises, he started to draw this stunning drawing of the building right on the pavement. It was almost magical, as if he had been commissioned to make an ad for my place but for a million bucks. At this point the people who were following us didn't even get pissed off because they were so engrossed in his drawing. I was surprised the marker kept going on.

After about 20 minutes - he was a real quick draw (no pun intended) - he stood up and a crowd of two dozen clapped and cheered for him.

I told him, "Dude that looks fucking amazing, but I thought we were in a pun-a-thon. Why such a long set-up?"

He replied, "Yeah it was pretty drawn out."

(for more drawn-out jokes like this, visit r/feghoot!)

Okay so the animals have been on the ark for thirty days and thirty nights and frankly they are getting bored. So to provide entertainment B-Deck challenges C-Deck to a game of football. They get it all set up and begin play. B-Deck makes some early gains but C-Deck is unstoppable. They have Rhinoceros and once he gets going you cant stop him. Soon the first half is over and the score is 24-7. The second half begins and while in the huddle Rhinoceros looks over at B-Decks defensive line and sees Centipede on their defensive line. "Give me the ball," he says, "There aren't going to be any centipedes in the new world because I'm crushing this one right here and right now" The Center snaps the ball and the quarterback hands it off to Rhinoceros who begins charging down Centipede. Centipede rears up grabs Rhinoceros by the legs and SLAMS him to the deck. Ball pops loose, centipede grabs the ball. He's rushing down the field weaving in and out and TOUCHDOWN!!! The crowd goes wild! C-Deck's captain, Lion rushes over and says, "Centipede that was amazing! Where were you in the first half?" "Well I was lacing my shoes."

There was a poetry slam competition final between a university scholar and a country person.

Both had one minute to think of a poem that had to have timbuktu in it

The university student goes first and says:

slowly across the desert sand

trekking a lonely caravan

men on camels two by two

destination Timbuktu

and the crowd went wild. then it was the country mans turn to go

he said:

Tim and I hunting we went

met three girls in a pop up tent

they were three and we were two

so i bucked one and timbuktu

Who won?

The one in the 5th lane had a poorly drawn 5 on it and took off, faster than all the others. The crowd yelled out, look at that S-car go!

A man walks into a crowded, smokey club. He sits at a empty table, next to many nicely dressed men and women. They are all facing a piano lit by a spotlight. Everyone begins to clap as a horse walks out on two legs. Wearing a tailored suit, it sat in front of the ivory keys. In a panic of anxiety it stumbled down the keys, striking random and disjointing notes. As everyone in attendance held there ears, the man stood up and yelled "That's one phoney pony."

The Englishman and Cowboy were tied in a contest of who was better, when the crowd decided that, as a tie breaker, they were to perform a live poem and incorporate the words "Hunting" and "Timbuktu."

The Englishman went first:

"The hunting is always grand, When in search of good land. Off in the caravan we pursue, Looking, for Timbuktu."

The crowd went wild, knowing that the cowboy couldn't win the contest, the Englishmans poem was just too good. He smiled as well, and stood aside for the cowboy.

The cowboy paused for a moment as if remembering something, then recited:

"Well it was Tim and I, off huntin we went, When I spied three women in a tent. I motioned to Tim, and he saw them too, Then I bucked one, and Timbuktu."

During the consultation on Saturday, my nervous wife accompanied me to learn more about the procedure. She got me pretty good when she said it was an "eye-opening experience."

Rest assured I didn't leave her the last word. After the procedure yesterday, I exited the operating room to find her waiting in a crowded lobby. She looked up at me, and I got her back with "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

So at the reception it was my turn to give a speech and it went like this:

"I'm going to start this off with a couple jokes. First, it was a rather emotional wedding right? I mean, my mom was crying, Charity was crying, hell even the cake was in tiers! (many groans throughout the crowd) Second joke, to some marriage is just a word, to others, a sentence."

Besides all the groaning in the crowd I looked at my dad and saw that he was laughing so hard that he turned red and had tears in his eyes, that's how I knew they were good quality dadjokes.

Decorating a cardboard boat tomorrow (made it today) and thinking of covering it with different puns. The name shall be Admiralable Saboateur if I go this route, but I'm not sure how to incorporate it all together to make it a theme. I also thought of Aquadisiac and "Are you my armama?" but I'm not sure if the crowd would get the armada reference either. Any boat puns are appreciated!

who claims he can heal anyone with magical crystals. He announces to a crowd, “anyone who needs something healed, step right up and I can heal you with my powers!” Someone steps up, on crutches. “Hi, I’m Phil, can you fix my leg?” He asks. “Yes! Of course! Phil, step behind the curtain!” Answers the crystal guy. Then, another man steps up. “You seem fine! What’s the problem?” The crystal guy asks. “I h-h-have ha-had this st-stutter since I wa-was five.” He said. “Ok, I can fix you right up!” The crystal guy says, motioning the guy with the stutter behind the curtain. Then, he says some sort of chant, moving crystals around. Once he is done he shouts, “Phil, throw a crutch over to prove you’re healed!” A crutch goes flying over the curtain. The crowd gasps. “Now, sir, with the stutter, say something!” He shouts, showing off it worked. “U-uh Ph-Phil fe-ell d-down.”

We were watching the live stream of the landing, just as it touched down and the crowd went crazy.

My dad: "That crowd is really excited. It's almost like they scored a touch-down!"

Me: sigh

One them asks, "whaddya want to drink Jim?" The other whale thinks for a little bit, then answers: Aaaaaoooooooooaaaaauoooooeeeee

pause

Oooooooouuuuuuaaaaaaaaiiiieaaaaa

pause

Oooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuiiiiiiaaaaaooooaaaaa

pause

Ooooooeeeeeeaaaaaaauiooooooooo

pause

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

The first whale looks at his friend," Jim. You're drunk"

Telling this joke amongst an already giggling crowd works perfectly. Just every time you pause make it difficult to tell if you're doing another aaaaoooo until the punch line comes

So we're in the car driving to the airport and my dad's talking about his buddy Terry. Terry was in some small movie and my dad was commenting that he played both the referee in a footy game, and then it cut to a shot of the crowd and THERE WAS TERRY. My dad goes "I mean, he could have at least put a different shirt on to create the illusion he was someone else. How silly of him!"

My sister says "You should be real careful dad, you shouldn't make fun of him. You can die from dissin' Terry"

Cue groans and laughter, and my dad conceding the apprentice has surpassed the master.

Today it was hot and humid in our office and the AC wouldn't kick on so we were crowded around an oscillating pedestal fan... Our boss walked up and said:

"What is this? A fan club?"

I looked at him and said,

"This IS our biggest fan."

Others followed, but I'll let you all join in.

He probably has quite the hair-care bill, but I'm sure he's willing toupee for it.
It seems that everyone on the internet is Russian to say good things about him.
After his inauguration speech, everyone gave him a big hand.
His favorite winter Olympic event is the LYUUUUGE!
The other half of his supporters can be described with ancient, mystical legends: the Deep Lore-ables.
Nobody will be able to use cheap cotton drapes or table cloths after his ban on muslins.
Since the start of the cold war, many U.S. presidents have pissed off the Russians. Trump is the first to be accused of pissing ON them.
I subscribed to his newsletter because I never turn down a free MAGA-zine subscription.
Melania got used to everyone crowded into Trump Tower during the campaign. Now that everyone's gone, she looks around and it's just a little Barron.
Joke that inspired me is here : https://www.reddit.com/r/puns/comments/5p4ebt/on_donald_trumps_inaguration/

King Broderick was in trouble. He wasn't a very good king, and his brother Argyle was gathering forces to depose him and take the crown. In desperation, he captured Count Petrie, a very popular man who was one of his brother's cronies, and tortured him to learn his brother's location.

But the count wouldn't divulge the information, so the King scheduled a public execution. The crowds gathered, including the King's brother, who was there in disguise. The Count was forced to kneel, with his head on the chopping block. The headsman stood nearby, holding his axe at the ready. King Broderick loudly proclaimed "Count, you are here before me because you have aligned yourself with my brother. If you tell me where he is, I will allow you to live out your days in my dungeon. Remain silent, and you will die." The Count remained silent. King Broderick motioned to the headsman, who slowly raised his axe and swung it down...THUNK...into the wood next to the Count's head. The Count stared at the axe, visibly shaking. King Broderick loudly proclaimed "Count, that was a warning, and there will not be another. Tell me where my brother is and you will live. Remain silent, and you will die!" The Count stayed silent. King Broderick again motioned to the headsman, who raised the axe. As the headsman began the downswing, the Count cried out "Wait!!" but...THUNK...it was too late, and the Count's head fell to the ground.

At the Count's death, the King's brother leapt up and revealed himself to the crowd. Cheering Argyle, they crowded forward and overran the King's guards. Soon, it was Broderick's head on the chopping block. Argyle, the new King, waved back the headsman, knelt beside his brother and whispered into his ear "Silly brother, don't hatchet your Counts before they've chickened."

>!They do it to beat the crowds!!<

The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave.

Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.

When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."

He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony, and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."

So the magistrate kept listening, "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..."

Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate.

He stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery, "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."