The Way You Move Puns

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

When we moved to our current home, we were going a little crazy from the long drive and started personifying random things along the way that had names posted, (the street named Kirk, a Church named Baptis because the t fell off, and a bridge named after a Carl Woodard). Ever since, (almost a year now) the 5 kids and my wife all say hi to Kirk and Carl on the way home, each in their own way. I, however, being the Dad, use every opportunity to not speak to Carl... Instead I give dad-joke reasons why I refuse.

"Carl and I had a fight. He thinks it's just water under the bridge, but I can't get over it." My oldest daughter said, "Dad, come on, you should forgive Carl." My answer, "No, it's beneath me." My youngest daughter asks, "Dad, why don't you say hi to Carl?" My answer, "He makes me cross."

In his accent, the officer commands the prisoners to stand up straight. He then tells them to move their body left and right in unison, whilst also saying 'tick' when they lean to the left, and 'tock' when they lean to the right, like a clock.

All the men bar one comply. The one only leans to left and says 'tick'. Irate, the officer shouts: "What are you doing? Why are you not tock-ing?!"

The man ignores him and continues to 'tick' to the left.

The officer leans in: "We have ways of making you TOCK!"

We’ve been in a bad joke email war for some time now. It’s been so long, I don’t remember how it started. It may have happened when I moved out after staying with him and my mom for a while.

Long story short: I’ve got a lot of dad jokes to share with y’all, because we are constantly sending “dad jokes” to each other. And I have hundreds of jokes that are LITERALLY from my dad.

All the best jokes? They are headed your way!

Here’s some to get you started. I am copying and pasting them exactly as he writes in the email so you can get the full “dad” effect. He’s 72.

Everyone who can, take a moment out of your day to call your dad.

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the male pumpkin told the female pumpkin ................you look gourdish today boo me love dad

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Exaggeration is a billion times better than understatement..........................love, dad

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Is it true that if you teach a wolf to meditate it becomes an "aware wolf" ?

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If swimming is good for your figure how do you explain whales?

Bad aina, I almost didn't send it.......................................Love dad

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Have a good night everyone, and see you soon!

My 6 year old son just told his sister "You butter move out of the way" while helping his mother in the kitchen. He was so proud of his joke he ran across the house to tell me.

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

There was, for instance, the time he conducted a crew of new S.A.R.H. (Society for the Aesthetic Rearrangement of History -BJ) recruits – all from late twentieth-century Terra – on a training study of Carter’s World, a newly established agricultural colony attempting to support itself by the export of edible nuts. Barely into their second generation, and having yet to show a profit, the colonists were technologically backward. Nevertheless, they showed a surprising ingenuity in the use of their few advantages. It was this resourcefulness that Feghoot was demonstrating to his rookies.

“Look at the perfection with which these streets are graded”, exclaimed one student. “Earth-moving machinery on this scale is strictly high technology stuff. How can they do it?”

“A new alleyway is being constructed, nearby”, said Feghoot. “Let us walk that way while I explain.” As they strolled, he told his students that countless centuries before, the Carter’s World system had been inhabited by a now-vanished race of giants. This very planet had served them for a nursery, and among the many artifacts they had left were thousands of childrens blocks, immense and precision-cut. You simply jack one up onto logs, bring it where you want it, put collapsible jacks underneath, snake out the logs, spread soil more or less evenly beneath, and collapse the jacks.

“I see”, said the student. “It’s not graded road at all; its a simple hammered-earth base.”

“That’s right,” Feghoot went on smoothly. “You just hit the road jack and don’t come back no mo.”

His students registered dismay and anguish.

“Isn’t that right, old-timer?,” Feghoot demanded of an ancient Carterian standing by the mouth of the newly completed alley they had just reached.

“Ahm afraid not, suh”, said the senior citizen, and the students giggled at Feghoots discomfiture. “Oh, we used to do it that way, but it was far too much trouble. It’s the soil heah. You see, the very same soil which produced our famous cashews is so high in clay content that a child could roll out a road of it. Then, we simply use a system of lenses to bake it into hardness. Ahve just completed this alley mahself, and ahm just a retired professor of Sports History, much too old and feeble to handle hydraulic jacks.

“So you see,” he finished, eyes twinkling, “Mah hammered alley is really cashews clay.”

Howls of agony rose from the students, but Feghoot never hesitated. “And he”, he said, turning to his students, “is clearly the gradi

He speaks with the officer, who assigns him his post.

"Go stand at the periscope entry-way, and make sure no unauthorized personnel touch the periscope."

The recruit follows orders, and stands by the periscope. After 15 minutes, the officer stops by.

"Son I'm changing your post to the mess hall. Go in there and start washing some dishes."

The recruit obeys, and heads to the mess hall. He's cleaned about 3 dishes when the officer walks up again.

"Listen here recruit, your new post is in the supply room. I need you to make sure everything is strapped down tight, in case of rough waters."

The recruit again follows orders, and heads off to the supply room. There, he sees a crewman, moving some boxes.

"Hey there," says the recruit. "is it normal to keep getting reassigned to new posts all day? I haven't kept one position for more than 15 minutes!"

The crewman says "Oh yeah- this sub is full of reposts."

Dissatisfied with the style of life that he found there, The Monk decides to move into a suburban neighborhood and start up his own line of work. Being trained in the peaceful ways he gets on very well with his neighbours who eventually notice that he has a very strange profession. Despite being very strong and very philosophical The Monk elects to repeatedly visit places with broken fences and remove and replace them.

One day has neighbour approaches him and asks, "with the physical strength and mental capacity that you seem to have, are you not interested in a more physically or mentally challenging job?"

To which The Monk replies, "but everybody knows reposting gives you the most karma."

On the way down he meets a chap with no parachute moving up wards. He shouts to him, Hey mate know anything about parachutes? The chap coming up shout No but do you know anything about gas cookers?

So once upon a time, there was a planet shaped like a cheerio. A small moon made of milk or tied the planet, going through the center of the donut shaped world. On this planet, lived an interesting species. They acted and lived similarly to us humans? But looked just like large Cheerios (with footings hands and feet like miis) Within this society there were levels of Cheerios: original, honey nut, and finally frosted. The originals were the backbone of the economy, doing the herd labor while the honey nuts ran the businesses and the frosted Cheerios (the top of the top) led the world. Our story today focuses on a single Cheerio. Born into an original Cheerio family, this lad learned the hard way how to work. From a young age, he was forced to get a job in the local milk refinery, where his dad worked. He grew up, and soon had a family of his own. His wife, son, and daughter all worked hard, but were happy. One day walking home from school, the kids found a runaway honey nut Cheerio pup, and decided to keep him. It wasn’t much, but it inspired our little Cheerio friend here. One day, he got fed up with taking orders, and demanded a raise. His entire family has worked in this one factory for three generations, and he wanted to move up in the world, not just for him but also his kids. His old boss however, did not have the power to promote this Cheerio, and he was forced to make a life changing decision: he would go to the refinery company and use every penny in the family savings account (under the bed) to try and get a higher position. After waiting on line for over a week, his appoint was finally here. After bickering and bargaining for hours, the refinery company boss saw a spark in this lad’s eye. He agreed to give this Cheerio a promotion to the honored honey nut glaze in exchange for everything this man owned, including the family’s prized honey nut dog. Was it worth it? Well pretty soon he owned his own milk refinery and was able to breed his own honey nut dogs, so yes, yes it was. Owning and operating the refinery went smoothly. Milk was transported from the moon to the planet using space busses, and the milk itself was funneled down to the refineries using large straws. After the milk was ready to drink, it was shipped off to be sold. He was happy working here, but eventually he realized it wasn’t enough. This Cheerio, once a simple original Cheerio wanted to follow the “American dream” and do the best he could. He wanted to become a frosted Ch

My grandpa would always tell me this story about his uncles in WWII. "My uncle was actually captured by the Germans and kept in a pow camp. They would try to break the prisoners spirit by making them to mindless things. One in particular they would make the prisoners stand in a line and all move their heads like a clock back and forth and say, 'tick tock tick tock.' My uncle was always a wise guy so he would rebel in the simplest way. He would only go, 'tick tick tick.' One day the guard finally caught him and said, 'don't vorry. Ve have vays of making you tock.'"

Back a few decades, I was working in a program with a local college in the Middle East.

The name of the program for ExPats has the clever acronym of "IDEA" (hey, I said it was clever); which stands for "Inter-Departmental Educational Adjunct". It's interdepartmental because my particular specialty not only covers field geology but also paleontology and a bit of archeology thrown in for good measure. Everyone hopes to have a good IDEA...

ahem...

Well, we saddle up and head for the Dune Sea out in the west of the country, where the Precambrian, Cambrian, Silurian, Cretaceous, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and Holocene crop out and access is relatively easy and non-injurious.

Well, we caravan out, some 30 Land Cruisers, Nissan patrol, and the odd Mitsubishi Galloper strong. We all get our maps, compasses and split up into 5 or 6 special interest groups ("SIG's"); where each IDEA has his own GPS and LIDAR laser ranging apparatus. Reason being, that there are very few benchmarks out in the desert, and even those are constantly at the mercy of the shifting and ever-blowing sands.

Since we're split into groups and at any one time, ranging up to and including some 50 km2, when a real find is located, a device called the "DIME" (Digital-Interface Monitor Encoder) is attached and programmed into the GPS for location later; it is a digital sort of low-frequency transponder, developed from technology used by offshore drillers and jacket setters where benchmarks are even more transitory.

The way it works is rather simple. When something is to be marked for later retrieval, a series of wooden posts are pounded in a triangular manner around the find and the DIME is set, programmed with the GPS and attached to one or more of the posts.

That's the theory, at least.

Everything works well, especially all the hardened electronics and computer gizmos, but attaching the DIME to the stakes is the real problem. It can't be nailed, screwed or fastened with any sort of metal contrivance as that farkles the magnetic field and causes all sorts of goofy spurious signals. Zip ties don't last long in the heat and duct tape is right out. Many sites have been lost to the shifting sands this way.

Velcro doesn't work too well, as the sand fills the hooks of the receiving piece of velcro and soon renders it useless. String or fishing line work, but that's temporary (they melt). Glue or mastic are out as these are supposed to be temporary. Even plastic sleeves don't work due to the heat out

My 10 month old was sitting in her high chair and twisting and moving all over the place. My wife looked at me and told me to "Straighten her up"

I looked at her and said "What are you doing with your life? Do you want to be this way forever? It's time to grow up."...

My wife hasn't asked me to do anything since.

When he gets to the place where he’s supposed to pick up his rifle the man tells him that he just ran out. “If you need to shoot just say ‘BANGITY BANG BANGITY BANG!'” he says. Bummed out and little confused, the guy moves on to the next area where he’s supposed to pick up the bayonet. But the next man is out too. “If you need to stab someone just go, ‘STICKITY STICK STICKITY STICK!'” he says. Dejected and wondering what the heck he signed up for, the guy jumps into the next truck on its way to the front where there’s a battle raging on.

Side by side with the rest of the soldiers in his unit, the guy advances on the enemy position. As soon as he sees the enemy, he shouts, “BANGITY BANG BANGITY BANG!!” Amazingly, the enemy soldier drops to the ground. Encouraged by his success he charges the next two enemy soldiers and goes, “STICKITY STICK STICKITY STICK!” They both immediately collapse in front of him. This is incredible, he thinks, I’ve become unstoppable.

So when he sees his next foe way off in the distance, he shouts, “BANGITY BANG BANGITY BANG!” at him. He waits for him to fall, but nothing happens. The guy charges his unfazed adversary next and goes “STICKITY STICK STICKITY STICK!” Again he thinks the man will fall and again nothing happens. “Why wont you drop?” the guy says. The enemy soldier knocks him down and responds, “TANKITY TANK TANKITY TANK!”

The husband leans over and asks his wife, "Do you remember the first time we had sex together over fifty years ago? We went behind the village tavern where you leaned against the back fence and I made love to you." Yes, she says, "I remember it well."

OK, he says, "How about taking a stroll around there again and we can do it for old time's sake?"

"Oh Jim, you old devil, that sounds like a crazy, but good idea!" A police officer sitting in the next booth heard their conversation and, having a chuckle to himself, he thinks to himself, I've got to see these two old-timers having sex against a fence. I'll just keep an eye on them so there's no trouble. So he follows them.

The elderly couple walks haltingly along, leaning on each other for support aided by walking sticks. Finally, they get to the back of the tavern and make their way to the fence The old lady lifts her skirt and the old man drops his trousers. As she leans against the fence, the old man moves in.. Then suddenly they erupt into the most furious sex that the policeman has ever seen. This goes on for about ten minutes while both are making loud noises and moaning and screaming. Finally, they both collapse, panting on the ground.

The policeman is amazed. He thinks he has learned something about life and old age that he didn't know.

After about half an hour of lying on the ground recovering, the old couple struggle to their feet and put their clothes back on. The policeman, is still watching and thinks to himself, this is truly amazing, I've got to ask them what their secret is.

So, as the couple passes, he says to them, "Excuse me, but that was something else. You must've had a fantastic sex life together. Is there some sort of secret to this?"

Shaking, the old man is barely able to reply,"Fifty years ago that wasn't an electric fence."

(Parents are moving from Missouri to Texas)

Dad: Your mom and I made it down here without a hitch! We're pretty wiped out, so we'll probably unpack the trailer in the morning.

Me: How'd you tow the trailer all the way down there without a hitch?!?!

Dad: Well played..

This guy is standing at the bus stop reading the morning paper when this grubby looking fellow strikes up a conversation. Somehow they get to talking about what each would do if the missiles were on their way. The grubby fellow says boldly, "I'd screw anything that moved! How about you?"

The other man thought for a moment and replied, "Stand PERFECTLY STILL."

Credit to u/echonight . This is a cross post from r/askreddit

There are two identical twin brothers that live together. One happens to be a well-respected dentist, and the other can't seem to keep a job. Instead of actively looking for work, he likes to sit around at home. One Saturday, the dentist is hungry, and puts his brother on the spot. He tells him to get off his lazy behind and go get them some food. After some protest, the lazy brother takes the car and leaves for the store. In the meantime, the dentist takes a nap on his day off. He turns off his phone so he won't be interrupted.

About 30 minutes later, the lazy brother gets into a head-on collision in the intersection by the grocery store. His vital signs are fading; he's unconscious and barely moving. An ambulance picks him up and rushes him to the hospital. He ends up in the Emergency Room under observation, but his condition is critical. They try calling his dentist brother, but he doesn't pick up because his phone is off.

The dentist wakes to a knock on the door. Suspecting a solicitor, he ignores it, but the knocking continues. Eventually, he resolves to get up and yell at the person at the door. When he does, he reveals--- the grim reaper. He is just as he appears in movies; a full skeleton underneath a tattered cloak.

The grim reaper swears. "Oh no! This always happens with identical twins".

"What do you mean?" asks the dentist.

"Well... if you must know, your brother was in a critical car accident, and I've come to take him to the underworld. I'm afraid his time on Earth has ended. I'll take my leave now."

The dentist is noticeably upset. He says "Wait! Isn't there some way I can challenge you for my brother's life? After all, YOU made the mistake. Certainly there must be a way I can bargain for his life."

The grim reaper asks "What do you have in mind?"

The dentist thinks. "How about a challenge? If I beat you, you let my brother go free."

The grim reaper laughs. "I will beat you in any challenge. What challenge do you propose?"

The dentist smiles. "I propose we see who has the cleanest teeth. 5 minute of brushing each, then we decide."

"Very well" says the grim reaper, who makes his way to the bathroom.

Once there, he pulls back his tattered cloak to reveal his skull. It's glistening. He takes a toothbrush from the bathroom, loads it with toothpaste, and brushes. After 5 minutes, the shiniest teeth anyone has ever seen glisten and make the room bright. The grim reaper gr

His car crashes into a tree, and he escapes unhurt though his car is badly damaged. However, he needs to find somewhere to stay overnight. The man wanders alnog the road until he comes across a monastery. He knocks on the door, and a friendly monk answers.

Man: I've crashed my car and need a place to stay tonight, might I have one of your rooms?

Monk: of course, come right this way.

The monk shows the man to a room, and the man goes to sleep. At midnight, the man is awoken by a loud thumping on the ceiling. He thinks nothing of it and goes to bed, sleeping soundly the rest of the night.

The next day at breakfast he asks one of the monks about the thumping. The monk replies,"sorry, I can't tell you you aren't a monk". The man figures that that's a pretty fair response, and goes to try and fix his car.

After working on the car all day, the man returns to the monastery and asks to stay another night. The monks of course oblige, and the man goes back to the same room. This night, he is awakened by the same thumping, this time even louder. He wonders about it and eventually drifts off to sleep.

The next day, the man continues to work on the car, and needs to stay just one more night to complete it. The monks are happy to give him a room, but the man asks to me moved to a different room so he won't hear the thumping. The man goes to bed but is awakened by even louder thumping.

He decides to go investigate, and climbs the stairs, only to find a locked iron door, with the thumping coming from behind it. Unsatisfied, he goes back to bed.

The next morning, he asks the lead monk about the thumping. The lead monk replies,"sorry, can't tell you you aren't a monk". The man, filled with curiosity, asks the leader how to become a monk. The leader gives him 3 tasks: the first, to circumnavigate the globe, to learn about culture, the second task, to cut an entire field with scissors to learn patience, and the third, to memorize the entire monk book, to learn discipline.

The man completes all the tasks, and the leader takes him up to the iron door and pulls out a key. He opens the door to reveal the Monk's greatest secret.

If you're wondering what it is, I'm sorry, I can't tell you, you aren't a monk.

I live in South Carolina, sort of near the coast, and Hurricane Florence is headed this way. My two youngest children--total cowards--were helping me clear out all of the storm drains and curb gutters on our street to help the expected 10-20 inches of rain drain as best they can. Any time any insect flies past them, they scream bee and run away screaming. I'm talking like they're afraid of butterflies. My youngest says that Winter is her favorite season because all the bees are dead.

So, we finish up, and I go inside ahead of them, making them put the shovels away, and I hear, from inside, them running and crying/shrieking across the front porch and inside the house.

My youngest, amidst her sobs, says, "It was as big as a baseball" and holds the one I keep on my desk up for comparison.

I think make the B sign in ASL with both of my hands, stand up and say "BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ" at them while they run away in fear, and when the middle child says, "THAT'S NOT FUNNY" I keep moving towards them with my B hands while saying, "DO YOU WANT ME TO JUST LET YOU BEE? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

I'm a great dad.

Dad: The police stopped by the house today.

Me: Why?

Dad: Last weekend I was visiting my friend in the backwoods. As I was driving, a pig jumped out in front of me. I swerved to avoid it but ended up hitting it. I got out of my car and noticed it was not going to live. The pig had to be over 100 pounds, and there wasn't any way to move it. I look around and couldn't see anyone. I decided to leave the pig in the road figuring people would drive around it and scavengers would eventually take care of it. But today the police stopped by to question me about it.

Me: No one was around, right? How did they know you hit it?

Dad: The pig squealed. Dad laughs as I fell right into it.

HI I’m Tim the turtle, yes a real turtle. And I would like to tell you the story of my best friend. I once had a friend by the name of Sam. Sam of course was a clam. A real live honest to goodness clam. He was my best buddy, but unfortunately he smoked and drank and ran around with loose women (and a few men). I was more of the goodie two shoes type. I never drank, never smoked, I didn’t even swear. But for some reason Sam and I were the best of friends. I guess you can say we were the epitome of opposites attracting. One day as we were hanging out walking along the beach Sam, after his fifth cigarette in a row, had a heart attack and died. I was heart broken. My best friend died right there in front of me and he never repented his evil ways. I was sure he would spend eternity in damnation. Sigh. Being the goodie two shoes type I was still extremely healthy well into my old age. I missed my friend terribly for many years. On his birthday I would host a party and invite his old stripper girlfriends and poker buddies around to relive stories. It was always a fun evening, but in the end left me more lonely than before. Eventually, my broken heart couldn’t stand it anymore and I too died. I was pleased to find that there was a heaven. Being an almost saint I was whisked directly past the line to the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter. A big grin erupted on his face and he came right around his desk to give me a great big hug. “Tim”, he said, “You have been such a good person back on earth that God has asked me to grant you any wish you would like before even entering heaven”. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I thought for a minute, I guess God expected me to ask for more time on earth, but I knew what I really wanted to do was to visit with my old friend Sam. So I asked. Poor St. Peter didn’t know what to say. You know Sam is in Hell right? Well I knew that was a strong possibility so I wasn’t surprised. Peter excused himself for a while and went to check with the big guy himself. He was gone quite some time, but eventually he returned. Peter said my request was approved, but under a few conditions. First, I would have to carry a golden harp as a passport back into heaven. This harp could only be carried by a good soul so I couldn’t be replaced by a look alike demon. Second, I would have to return by midnight. God didn’t want me to face too much temptation. I agreed to these conditions and took the highway down to hell. (Nope n

I've been working with my dad training to take over the business when he retires. After working in production for 10 months he lays this one on me.

"I'm going to move you to shipping and receiving. That way you can learn the ins and outs of the company."

Today I sent my dad a text, proclaiming my desire to start keeping bees when I move into my new house next month. Below is a transcript of our text conversation:

Me: Dad, I want to start beekeeping at the new house.

Dad: I tried that once, but I broke out in hives.

Dad: Must be allergic

Dad: Not sure how to keep bees, but I'm sure we could bumble our way through it.

Dad: Don't know where you get bees so we'll have to comb the area for them.

Me: I thought if I ignored you this would stop.

Me: ...now I'm SKEP-ticle

Dad: Lol! Good one! Now I'm all abuzz with new ideas.

Me: Nope. We are done.

As an aside, my wife is pregnant, and I'm soon going to be a father. Clearly the dad joking begins during the first trimester.

My friend had a really interesting job. One of those jobs you didn't know people could get.

tl;dr just read it, it's worth reading the whole description of the job

Before I moved, my neighbor's job was based in Antarctica. He worked with one of the research centers there, and his job was standing up penguins. I kid you not — when shipments arrived by air, like by helicopter or by airplane or whatever, the penguins would all look up with their tiny heads and look up so high they would fall over backwards. Now, penguins are super awkward in how they waddle everywhere, and so, not wanting to disturb the local environment, the research station had to have someone that could suit up and go out there and stand up penguins.

As soon as every shipment arrived, he would say, "Welp, better go suit up now," get into the whole penguin suit, and waddle out there all incognito and stand the penguins on their feet again. I'm sure they could have done it on their own, eventually, but the idea was to disturb the animals for as little time as possible.

I thought it was the most ridiculous thing when he told me, but he got the job through his dad's researcher colleague. Basically, the deal was they would get people to go down for 3-month periods (I think he ended up doing 6 months) and this was his occupation for that time. Actually, is plane flight there was one of the really cool parts: LA went to Sydney, which then went back across the Pacific to Buenos Aires. Then, on the final leg, he would finally go Buenos Aires to the research station. The planes actually had to be specially fitted for the job, though — Of course, you can't have typical runways in Antarctica because they'd get ice all over them and there'd be all these problems — so the planes had to have mechanics on board each flight who would, mid-flight, switch out the take-off wheels for the landing skis. Just like a sea plane, except it was a snow-plane. Coolest thing ever.

Oh, but the way he described working with the penguins was the best! Most of the time he'd just go out and stand them up, but sometimes one would hurt itself. Like one time one of them fell over backwards and hit its foot the wrong way, so he had to not only pick it up, but give medical help, too. He seriously had to prop up the penguin, take off his glove, and pull on each of the penguins little webbed toes, pull on their legs. Sort of like how I'm pulling your leg right now.

So my family and I moved and we are trying to get our cats situated at the new house and my dad and I were looking for one of my cats. while we pull up the drive way he turns to me and says "you know, he could've been stolen... by cat burglars." We had a giggle.

"That's the way you move you butt when you drive!"

Dad told me this one:

A German teacher was having one of his students imitate various objects. He would say car and he would say "vrooom" or sink and he would say "Fsssss" then finally he asks him to imitate a clock and so the student says "tic, tic, tic, tic." And his teachers face moves to an eerie smile and he says, "We have ways of making you toc."

I was at the airport waiting for my flight home the other night when over the P.A they asked everyone from flight DJ-478 to Sydney to make their way to the service desk, so myself and my fellow passengers make our way over to the desk, where the very embarrassed and obviously distressed desk worker informs us that our flight has been cancelled, and the next one isn't till the morning, she then tells us that the airport will happily put us up in the 5 star hotel around the corner, and have us dropped back at the airport at 7am the following morning. Most the people there accepted this, after the desk lady told us it was for our personal safety and that there wasn't a lot more they could do, except this one particular gentleman, who storms over to the desk, and tells the woman that he needed to be in sydney tonight, and demands a flight be made available. (It's like 9:30 by this point, surely it could wait till the morning?). After again apologizing to the man, she tells him that won't be possible, and she sends us all on our way to the shuttle bus, with our bags already on there, and off we go to the hotel. The entire bus trip this guy carried on whinging and swearing, getting angrier and angrier by the second. We get to the hotel, and he's about 30 people behind the front of the queue to check in, and he gets impatient with the time it's taking, and again, storms his way up the line, past me (I was at the front), walks over to the desk, slams his fist down and says to the woman behind the desk "I want the biggest room you have, I want it in the next 30 seconds or so help me god, you aren't gonna like what happens", the woman looked up at him and said "Sir, the airport has paid for the rooms we already have organized, if you'll take your place back in line, we'll be with you as soon as we can", the guy got really angry about being asked to move back to his spot, he threw his bag down, and yelled at the woman, "Fuck this, call me a taxi, right fucking now, I'll find somewhere else to stay", that's when i decided to step in.

I said. "Oh okay then, you're a taxi".

He took his place back in line pretty quick.

I had been driving for a few years and had just moved off to college.

I was on my way back home to visit and it got dark during my drive. My headlights and radio worked but my dash lights were not coming on. When I got home I asked my dad about it and he said he'd go take a look. He went outside then comes back in the house just a few minutes later.

Me: "Did you find out what the problem is?"

Dad: "I think so."

Me: "Well, what was it?"

Dad: "I'll have to show you tomorrow, if I'm right then we're going to have fun working on your truck all morning."

We wait until morning, and dad wakes me up to go work on my truck. We go outside and he has me walk him through the entire problem again. Which lights were working and which were not, has me start the truck a few times and has me do the same troubleshooting I did the night before. I was getting frustrated and told him I tried absolutely everything.

Then he says "I think there's one thing you forgot." He points at a knob by the steering wheel. I looked at where he was pointing and it hit me. It's the damned the dash-light dimmer switch, and it was set to it's lowest (dimmest) position. When I looked back up at him he just had the biggest grin on his face. He then went into a full explanation on how this knob worked, knowing full well that I already knew what that knob did. Which, by the way, I'm sitting on the driver's seat and he's standing at the driver's side door. So I had no way to walk away from this embarrassing moment. All I could do was look down at the steering wheel and listen to him enjoying his joke.

Bonus story #1:

I'm in my 30s and one of my friends is a 74 year old guy that I play pool with. He always asks me what I've been up to, and one time I told him I met a girl.

He got excited and said "Do you have any pictures of her?" So I showed him a few pictures of us together.

Old man: "She's beautiful! She sounds like a keeper."

Then he leans in with a grin and says "Do you have any naked pictures of her?"

Me: "No way!"

Old man: "Do you want to see some?"

Bonus story #2:

That same old man was at our friend's wedding. He's sitting at the table with his wife and a bunch of other people. The conversation is about how they have been married for 50+ years. He says "I don't know how she's put up with me for this many years. But I've always told her that she can leave whenever she wants to, cause I'm comin' with her."

His wife explained that she has heard all of his jokes so

We were all on our way to lunch. The driver has young children and sometimes has to move the car seat to the trunk so everyone can fit.

Co worker 1: "do you have a car seat in the back"

Co worker 2: "Yeah but I think you are big enough to use a seat belt."

I recently subscribed to this sub and it's my new favorite. I shamelessly stole the "tan line" joke for Facebook and a nerd volley with another dad ensued quickly.

Me: Wow, this warmer weather is getting me ready for spring. Hey, I'm already getting ready for summer, check out my tan line! <graph of tangent>

Him: It's certainly not a farmer's tan line...not straight enough.

Me: No farmer's life for me. It's not something I'd sine up for.

Him: ...and I wouldn't cosine your startup loan. (groan)

Me: Sheesh, there's no reason to be hyperbolic.

Him: I really must learn how to integrate all your math vocabulary into my daily life.

Me: You'd really have to think of some way to differentiate yours from mine.

Him: heh...maybe after I move to the delta and crawl under a natural log. I'm sorry, it just struck me that I'm acting the total asymptote.

Me: Ugh. The average of the posts in this thread is degenerating.

Him: We've traversed a slippery slope and while I don't mean to be mean we've gone way past the apex of this thread.

My wife: Nerds.

Me: You married me.

So my boss and I are painting a large room and we tend to talk aimlessly about random stuff when working.

We start talking about what the best way to die would be and the topic comes up about beheading and the different methods throughout the ages.

Me: "Guillotine is kinda cool because your head gets sheared off and your still alive and they hold your head toward the cheering crowds and apparently you can still see them, and even move your eyes.

Him: what about by axe?

me: Beheading by Axe would be painful because not only do you not die right away, but sometimes it takes multiple swings to take your head off. It even gets stuck sometimes.

Him: So the Executioner would be having to pry the Axe back and forth like its stuck in a log?

Me: yeah.

Him: What a pain in the neck.

I heartily bellowed in laughter , guffawed even, and gave him props for it.

Background: I moved to Europe recently and got a European girlfriend. One of my favourite things to do with her is when she tries to correct my horrible pronunciation I just keep repeating the word the same way and she keeps trying to correct me until she realizes.

So this happens when we were talking about München. I said "Munch'n" (on purpose) and she said something like Moonkien. This went back and forth until I said "Munch'n... Oh man I love this game" to which she replied "Munch'n, how do you play that game?"

A friend of mine had a teacher in high school that, like many others, would write notes on the overhead or the whiteboard and, like many others, would end up standing in in the way of the text sooner or later.

If a student would ask "Mr. ____, can you move?" implying that they need him to move out of the way of their view of the text, he'd reply "Yes, I can!" and jump up and down in place, flailing his arms.

Sorry, but I need to vent!! So I went to Target to get some clearance Halloween stuff. I noticed this lady was staring at me in the same aisle I was in. No biggie. I moved to the next aisle and here she comes. Again... STARING! So now I'm like, What is her problem?! I finish up my shopping and head to the check out line. Of course who is there ahead of me but this same lady. She turns around and starts staring again. So I start playing with my phone b/c I'm getting a little uncomfortable. Finally she says "I want to apologize for staring at you, but you look just like my son who just passed away." I felt really bad after that and gave her my condolences. She says "Thank you...but I have a favor to ask. I know it's weird and understand if you don't want to, but can you give me a hug and say 'Bye Mama' to me?" Inside I was like buuuuh?!??!, but understanding grief the way that I do, I went ahead and did it. She smiles, thanks me, and leaves. The cashier rings up my stuff and the total comes out to $100.87. I knew something wasn't right, because it should have been like $40 or so. The cashier then tells me that my total was included with my mom's. I'm like, "What?!!!" She said, "Your mom said you were paying for her last few items along with your things. I told her that the woman was most definitely NOT my mom. She said, well I saw you hug her and heard you call her mama. I'm like OMG...I flew out of the store looking for this horrible person, ready to drag her back in, I see her loading up her car! She saw me and jumped in her car, I got to her as she was putting her leg in, and I started pulling her leg hard enough that her wooden leg came off!! Omg how is this happening right now?! So I grabbed her other leg and started pulling! Just like I'm pulling yours right now!

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

They snuck from their beds in the middle of the night and met in the gloomy darkness in front of the house, shivering in the cold.

The first boy said in a loud whisper, "You guys bring anything?" He slid a gun out of his pocket. The second boy nodded and revealed a knife. The third boy pulled out a flashlight.

"You didn't bring a weapon?" the first boy asked. He shrugged and replied, "Sorry". And as if to prove it, he turned his pockets out to show nothing but stray lint and a pack of cough drops.

They crept in. The door shut behind them. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. The flash light clicked on. 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 on the other side, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a dead 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 found a fully set, ornate dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal goblets, pitchers and silverware adorned the table. Spiders crept over 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 hel

He speaks with the officer, who assigns him his post.

“Go stand at the periscope entry-way, and make sure no unauthorized personnel touch the periscope.”

The recruit follows orders, and stands by the periscope. After 15 minutes, the officer stops by.

“Son I’m changing your post to the mess hall. Go in there and start washing some dishes.”

The recruit obeys, and heads to the mess hall. He’s cleaned about 3 dishes when the officer walks up again.

“Listen here recruit, your new post is in the supply room. I need you to make sure everything is strapped down tight, in case of rough waters.”

The recruit again follows orders, and heads off to the supply room. There, he sees a crewman, moving some boxes.

“Hey there,” says the recruit. “is it normal to keep getting reassigned to new posts all day? I haven’t kept one position for more than 15 minutes!”

The crewman says “Oh yeah- this sub is full of reposts.”

He speaks with the officer, who assigns him his post.

"Go stand at the periscope entry-way, and make sure no unauthorized personnel touch the periscope."

The recruit follows orders, and stands by the periscope. After 15 minutes, the officer stops by.

"Son I'm changing your post to the mess hall. Go in there and start washing some dishes."

The recruit obeys, and heads to the mess hall. He's cleaned about 3 dishes when the officer walks up again.

"Listen here recruit, your new post is in the supply room. I need you to make sure everything is strapped down tight, in case of rough waters."

The recruit again follows orders, and heads off to the supply room. There, he sees a crewman, moving some boxes.

"Hey there," says the recruit. "is it normal to keep getting reassigned to new posts all day? I haven't kept one position for more than 15 minutes!"

The crewman says "Oh yeah- this sub is full of reposts."