Cherry Picking Puns

A man and a woman are sitting in a bar. After some time, the woman notices that the man has not looked in her direction once. Curious, she asks the man if he would like to buy her a drink.

Playing coy the man responds, "Ma'am, you are beautiful indeed, but are you talented as well?"

Feeling flirty, the woman takes a cherry from the bar and puts it in her mouth, stem and all. Within seconds she swallows the cherry, spits out the seed, and reveals the stem, tied in a perfect knot.

The man chuckles. Without another word he picks up a cherry and pulls off the stem. He puts the stem in his mouth, and pounds the rest of his beer in one gulp, revealing and empty mouth to the woman.

Perplexed, the woman asks, "Is that supposed to impress me?"

Confidently, the man replies, "Indeed I do believe it will."

She laughs and says, "It will? Are you shitting me?"

He responds, "I shit you knot."

They've been cherry picking since the 4th century CE.

Dad: Hey, why did the elephant paint his balls red?

Me: Umm.. I don't know, why?

Dad: To hide in a cherry tree!

Me: ...

Dad: Okay.. how did Tarzan get killed?

Me: sigh I don't know Dad, how?

Dad: Picking cherries!

Facepalms all around by everyone in earshot, and Dad would know that he had done well.

The sun shone into my office through the lowered blinds all clumsy like, fumbling through the gaps between the venetian slats like a drunk fishing for loose change in his pockets; trying to see if he has money enough for one last drink or maybe the bus ride home.

The dame looked me up and down, clearly disappointed by what sat in front of her. I didn’t blame her. Three days of salt and pepper stubble clung to my my crude boxer’s jaw and the bags under my eyes were so big half the bums downtown could sleep in there and not even know anyone else was with 'em. That was ok. This broad wasn’t hiring me for my looks and I wasn’t looking to her for approval. We both knew what brought her in here, it was the name on the door.

Max Dad P.I. - that’s me. Private Investigator’s sure not the profession my mother would have picked out for me, but it keeps me in whisky and it keeps a roof over my head and that’ll do for now. The dame parted those cherry red lips of hers as she took another pull on that just-lit cigarette and nervously stubbed it out in the ashtray. My eyebrows knit together slightly. I hate seeing things go to waste.

“So as I was saying, Mr Dad,” she began.

“Please, call me Max”

“Alright, Max… well, as I was saying, my bag is missing. Stolen, I think. I urgently need it back. Shall I describe it to you?”

“No that’s alright miss. You got nothing to worry about,” I replied, sliding a bottle out of the desk drawer and pouring a big slug of scotch into to my morning coffee, “I’m sure it’ll be a brief case.”

This was a few months ago, and I only just thought of posting it here.

We were on our yearly holiday and mum decided to take us cherry picking. Driving along the road, mum told us to 'look out for signs leading to cherries.' In confusion, my dad looked at her and goes "I didn't know cherries could leave footprints. Hell, I didn't even know they had feet."

He laughed for a good 5 minutes.

Girlfriend picking out a flavor of Coke: "This one's cherry."

Me, pointing at chair: "This one's chairy too."