Bickerings Puns

They just don't see eye to eye

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

Okay... A bit of back story. My dad is someone who knows how to end fun...

But all in all, it is fine. We just normally talk t on him about serious topics.

So one night, my dad was in the shower. My sister and I were bickering about something and she did something that made me angry. So I screamed at my dad to "look at what she did" (I think she hit me or something) and all he merely did was peaked his head out of the bathroom and went back in.

I was expecting something like a scolding or something so I screamed again. Then he told me that I asked him to "look" and so he did already.

I promised myself to not talk to him again until I left my home. But if course with my bloody short attention span (I was around 7 or 8), I forgot about it the next morning. My sis n him had a laugh... 😠😠😠

A director and a costume designer had a disagreement over a critical shot in the horror movie they were filming in their studio.

The director planned to use CGl for a brief but critical reveal-shot of the movie's monster. But the costume designer insisted they use an actual costume instead of CGl.

"CGl makes a movie look cheap these days," she proclaimed.

The two of them continued debating until they began arguing. The stage crew, actors on break, and other people around them began watching until both the costume designer and director were shouting over each other at the top of their lungs. Despite their efforts, nobody could calm them down.

Fearing the incident may lead to blows, one of cameramen called a studio security guard in urgent request. The guard arrived a minute later and made a beeline for the director and costume designer, who were being held back by multiple people on set.

"lt's my movie. l make the decisions!" the director hollered, hoarse and red in the eyes.

"The movie quality will suffer!" the costume designer screamed, hair plastered across her sweaty face.

The security guard stepped in-between them and raised his pistol at the ceiling without a word. They continued to argue around him. There was a bark of gunshot, then nothing but silence and some falling plaster.

"Now see here," the guard said loudly, stepping back to look at the two of them. "Either you two quit your bickering or l'll have to escort you off the premises. You're making a scene."

During a night of passionate love making from a couple of German newlyweds, a group of sperm travel, all with the hope to be the one to fertilize the egg. A pair of sperm find themselves in a heated argument:

"I vill be the one who gets there first, after all, I am from the left testicle, we are known for our speed!" gloated the one sperm.

"Nein! It vill be I! I hail from the right testicle - known for its efficiency!" yelled the other.

"Well we lefties are known for our cunning, I will definitely out maneuver you!"

"The right vill be VICTORIOUS!" "Nein! the left vill be TRIUMPHANT!!!" "LEFT!" "RIGHT!" "LEFT!!!!!" "RIIIIGGGHHHTT!!!"

Finally fed up from the constant bickering, a sperm from the front of the load yells

"OH VAS DEFERENS DOES IT MAKE?!"

on the merry-go-round. Before the ride started, they began bickering.

I spun on my horse, pointed my finger at the kids and said in a very loud voice.

"Don't make me turn this carousel around!"

They got quiet. Actually, everyone got quiet.

In my practice to become a dad, I thought up this corny joke and wanted to share it!

One day my right and left hand decided to play soccer against each other. First my right hand scores, and then my left hand scores twice, and then my right hand scores once again. Now the score is 2-2. My hands start calling out to me, "Human, help me!". "No don't help him, help me!". "I'm your favorite hand, help me!". They continue bickering as I decide which hand to help. Finally I came to a conclusion. "Hands, the score is 2-2 and you want me to help one of you to be the winner. But there's nothing I can do... my hands are tied!"

Context: I was doing some work in the kitchen, with my dad not far away.

Dad: Does that Asian hamster ever get tired of doing maths?

Me: What makes you think he's Asian?

Bickering, which eventually leads to...

Dad: Well, where is he form?

Me: ^^^Hamsterdam

[my parents bickering like a married couple] My mom: don't get snippy! Lance: my hairdresser gets a bit snippy sometimes

Everyone else: good lord that was majestic