A Hell Of A Story Puns

Did you hear about the magician who grabbed Eminem so hard his SnapBack fell off?

He pulled a rabbit out of his hat

What do you call a magician who is an administrator at a college, but nobody knows what students he is in charge of?

Whose dean’s he?

A magician went out to the store and bought a big metal structure so he could hang upside down and do situps. He also loved painting, but because of his style he often knocked the canvas around while dabbing on the paint. So he bought another, wooden structure, like an easel, but with clamps to hold the painting in place while he prodded it with the paintbrush. His wife asked, as he brought them in, what the hell he had just bought. He replied:

“Ab rack and dab rack”

What do you call a magician with very skinny fingers?

Slight of hand

The magician’s wife brought him to the store to buy gifts for a birthday party. She picked out a lovely candle, but wanted to include a nice note. The magician knew just what to do. He brought her down an aisle, found a section marked “birthday,” and said:

“Pick a card, any card”

The Russian magician, in 1932, found an amazing new piece for his act: a giant, wooden sarcophagus in the shape of a beautiful woman. The piece had giant, metal blades inside at waist level. They were locked in place while it was open, but retracted as it closed, making it seem as though the magician had escaped death. But one day, while he was practicing, the great sarcophagus fell over - door still open - right on the magician. When he was found, he was cut right in two. Moral of the story:

In Soviet Russia, box woman saws you.

Okay that’s it. I’m so sorry, I have nothing better to do.

Rolling back 40 yrs or so, here's the story I told to my 2nd grade class.

To catch an elephant, you first need to go to the jungle where elephants are found. Then you cut down all the trees in a big circle, and dig a hole out. Put the trees in the hole and burn them down to ashes. Carefully line the edge of the hole with peas.

And when an Elephant comes to take a Pea, you kick him in the Ash-Hole!

Everyone about died. Hell, even the teacher and principal were laughing about it. Dad was amused. Mom was not.

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

So my wife is working on Genealogy stuff, and was asking her dad about some of his family history. After telling a few stories about some of his other uncles, he comes to his uncle Charles. "I was named after him, you know..." he tells us.

We look at him more than a bit incredulously, as his name is Michael.

He smiles and says "What? I sure as hell wasn't named BEFORE him..."

Two horses are talking in a field. One starts telling a story about the races at sandown, where he was coming last with no chance, when all of a sudden he got this tingling feeling up his back. Went real fast, passed the others and won the race.

Other horse says 'that's amazing' same thing happened to me, I'm trailing the field, and I got a wierd tingle up my back, burst of energy and I won the race.

In the next field a greyhound is walking past, he says to the horses 'excuse me' I couldnt help but overhear your conversation, and I have to tell you that even I, at haydock got that tingle in my back, and won the race.

The one horse turns and says to the other...

'Fucking hell, a talking dog!'

My dad's favorite joke of all time (there are many variations, and of course, even more extended versions):

These three guys went to South America to explore the rain forest. The guide was leading them through explaining the different plants and animals. After awhile they started to hear this really loud sound.

whoosh

whoosh

whoosh

The men, kind of scared, asked the guide what the noise was.

"What the hell is that noise?"

"Oh, that's just the Foo bird."

"The Foo bird?"

"Yes, it's a giant bird, and the locals believe that if it poops on you, wiping it off will cause instant death."

"That's silly."

"Well, that's what the locals say."

The noise gets louder and closer.

WHOOSH

WHOOSH

WHOOSH

The men look up in the sky and see a glimpse of the Foo bird.

"It's huge!"

Suddenly...

SPLAT

All four of the men are covered with bird shit. The guide pulls a cloth out of his pocket and wipes the shit off of his face. He drops dead.

The first of the three men says, "that's got to be a coincidence."

He wipes the shit off, and drops dead.

The second guy nervously says, "it can't be true"

He wipes it off and drops dead.

The third guy doesn't wipe it off. He was found a few days later, and went home, refusing to be cleaned.

A few years pass, his life has been destroyed due to being covered in shit. His wife left him, his friends won't come near him, he can't find a job... One day, he's in the bathroom shaving around the shit.

"It's been years, most of it has flaked off, it's probably fine to wipe it off now."

He hesitates, but eventually grabs a towel, wets it down, and takes a deep breath.

He wipes the shit off, looks up into the mirror smiling, then drops dead.

The moral of the story is:

If the Foo shits, wear it.

Reading my dad a news story about a local driver who got impaled after hooning a Maclaren down a hill and wrapping it around a tree:

Me: Apparently he was airlifted to hospital with a piece of wood still sticking out if his chest.

Dad: Is he alright?

Me: It doesn't say, but I presume he's critical.

Dad: Well at least he had stake for dinner.

I'mGoingToHell.jpg