Time Leap Puns

I realise now that I was merely Polaroid.

There's also leap-frogs.

It was a severe winter, and this particular night was bitterly cold. There was a loud knocking at the door which was opened to find Quasimodo shivering.

He was brought in, fed warm food and given a warm place to sleep. The next morning, at breakfast, Quasimodo very diffidently approached the Archbishop to thank him for sheltering him.

"Your Grace," he added, "please give me some work to do so I can earn my keep. I am very good at bell ringing."

"My son," replied the Archbishop, "that is indeed fortuitous timing, as our campanologist is leaving on a pilgrimage to Lourdes. I am wondering, though, with your gnarled hands, if you will not have some difficulty ringing the bells."

"Your Grace, I do not use my hands," Quasimodo explained. "Allow me to demonstrate."

They all went to the belfry, shooed away the bats, and Quasimodo started to ring the bells - with his head.

Everyone was impressed and he got the job. He would ring the bells every day at the appointed time.

For Christmas, he decided to play a symphony as a way to thank everyone. He played so beautifully that everyone was moved to tears.

For the grand finale, he decided to end with a crescendo, so as the last chimes were ringing out on the other nine bells, he drew back to the end of the belfry, ran to the tenth bell and took a flying leap at the bell.

And missed.

He couldn't stop himself, and flew straight out of the belfry to go splat on the pavement below, dead.

People gathered, the gendarmes were summoned, and they started asking if anyone knew who this poor fellow was.

Someone around spoke up, "I don't know his name, but his face rings a bell."

(to be continued)

(Please read part one first)

News of Quasimodo's death reached his village, and his brother Demimodo journeyed to Paris to pay his respects to his brother.

After visiting the grave, he went to the cathedral to express his gratitude to the Archbishop and his staff for looking after his brother in life and in death.

In conversation, the Archbishop learned that despite having the same gnarled hands as his brother, Demimodo also was an experienced bell ringer, having performed this service at his village church, using the same technique.

Demimodo was hired to replace his brother and started to ring the bells morning, noon and night. Some said he rang them better than his brother.

Come Easter time, and Demimodo decided to offer a grand symphony before the bells went quiet on Maundy Thursday.

On the Wednesday night, Demimodo went into orchestral mode and played superbly. As his brother did, he too wanted to end on a crescendo, and like his brother, he too took a flying leap at the last bell.

And missed.

Once again, the public were asked by the gendarmes if anyone knew who this poor soul was. The same person who spoke of Quasimodo replied, "I don't know his name, but he was a dead ringer for his brother."

Two scientists are studying how far frogs can jump. Their first step was to teach a frog to jump on command. This completed, they yelled jump, and the frog jumped 8 meters. Considering what effect each leg had, they then amputated one leg and yelled jump again. The frog jumped 6 meters. After noting this, they amputated a second leg. After yelling jump, the frog jumps 4 meters. This was such an interesting result that they went on to amputate a third leg. This time, the frog was only able to leap 2 meters. Feeling a breakthrough was coming, they amputated the last leg. Despite yelling jump repeatedly, the frog wouldn't move. Their conclusions were that amputation of more than 3 legs causes deafness in frogs.

They each got 6 months.

She excitedly says yes, and the boy spends the entirety of the next day preparing for the big day.

The first thing he does to make it extra fancy is to rent a limousine for a day (yes, he is rich), but when he arrives at the rental center, he notices that many other people had the same idea. There was an enormous line that stretched out the building. Nevertheless, this boy was determined to make this night a special night, and waited for hours. Luckily, he succeeded in the end, and rented a shiny black limo. He was starting to get really excited.

After that, he goes to the tailor to pick up a brand new suit and tie to look as sharp as possible. But once again, the line for that wrapped around the block and forced the boy to wait another long hour. He sighed, but still waited in line, as he was quite persistent and knew it would be well worth it in the end. In the end, though, he got a perfect suit that fit him well. No wrinkles, no nothing; it was just pure handsomeness.

Then, the moment came. In his limousine, he once again drove up to his crush's house, well-dressed in the brand new suit he just bought. She came out looking stunning as well in an aqua dress that sparkled in the evening sunlight. Excited as ever, she leaped into the fancy limo and rode to prom with him, ready for the big night.

When they arrived, however, there was yet another long line into the ballroom, as many people needed to be accepted. It was quite a busy night. After half an hour of waiting, the couple finally made it through and began dancing. It was all going really well, and everyone was having quite a grand time.

A few hours later, they became thirsty and went to get a drink. Both him and his girlfriend were in the mood for fruit punch, but nobody else seemed to want it. When they entered the snack bar, they noticed more long lines of people wanting to get other snacks and drinks, but surprisingly... there was no punchline.

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

They each got six months.