Come Forward Puns

With that, John got in line and when it was his turn the Pastor asked, " John, what do you want me to pray for you?"

John replied, "Pastor, I need you to pray for help with my hearing."

The Pastor put one finger of one hand on John's ear, placed his other hand on top of John's head, and then prayed and prayed and the whole congregation joined in with much enthusiasm. After a few minutes, the Pastor removed his hands, stood back and asked: "John, how is your hearing now?"

John answered, "I don't know. My hearing is actually next Thursday in the "Magistrate Court."

I have to know what his final answer was.

The defence is stumped

When I walked in the place was great, everything was perfect apart from the kitchen. There were gas mains but no cooker! Work surfaces and water pipes, but no sink; empty plugs and spaces for where the fridge and freezer should sit.

When I bought the house I was told it was fully furnished! Furious, I called up intending to give whomever answered an earful.

I was told that everything should be arriving individually, and the house is being used as an experiment for completely autonomous, self thinking kitchen appliances!

Before I could reply there was a knock on the door. I opened it and a stove strolled in, tilted forward in a bow, slid past me and set itself into its spot! Even attaching itself to the gas mains!

Later that day another knock at the door signalled the arrival of the fridge and freezer.(who had travelled together) They bowed and sat themselves perfectly in place in my new kitchen. I was beaming!

That evening I was explaining to my wife how the appliances had arrived, when came another knock at the door. “This technology is going to change the world, I swear it!” I told her. “Can you answer the door? I’ve been on my feet all day”

“Yeah,” she replied, less enthusiastic than I,“but it’ll get to a point when humans are completely inferior.” She explained “When these machines develop such sentience, what’s stopping them from overthrowing us?” “Treating us as slaves, like we to them now?” She asked, distraught at theses ideas.

Knock knock

“It’s best not to worry about these things,” I said in an attempt to alleviate her fears.

“There are people- professionals developing contingencies for any possible future robot uprising!” “That future you’re frightened about is purely science fiction right now, and the way our collective knowledge and application of technology has advanced, (Even in the past 50 years!) our own scientists and engineers will be able to crush any worries we may have when the time comes.” I explained.

She sighed, agreeing somewhat reluctantly. “Don’t think on it now, have some faith!” I told her.

Knock knock

“Now let that sink in!”

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

A little boy named Tom was approaching his 3rd birthday, and absolutely adored the show "Tractor Tom", partially because of his name being spoken, and partially because he loved tractors.

As the day drew nearer, his parents decided to buy him a toy tractor as a gift. The rest of his toys were gone with the wind at this point, as Tom spent all his waking hours playing with this one tractor toy.

Fast forward a few years, and Tom's now approaching his 10th birthday, with his love for tractors intact and intensified. His parents discuss what to get for him, and decide that a ride-on tractor to replace his bike is the best gift they can give him.

Tom absolutely loves the gift, and spends all of his time out of school riding around the neighbourhood while his bike collects dust in the garage.

We come forward a few more years, as Tom approaches his 18th birthday, with an only intensified adoration of tractors. His father pulls him aside on the morning of his birthday, saying "Now son, I know that we've promised you a car, but we know what you really want."

He leads him outside, to a brand new tractor with a bow on it, saying that this is his welcome to adulthood.

Tom is beyond excited, and spends the next few months going everywhere in his tractor - grocery trips, bars, classes, friends' houses.....

Again, a few years later, Tom is driving down a back country road, in the middle of nowhere, with his tractor, in the middle of a storm. The tractor breaks down, and with no air conditioning or any form of modern comforts, Tom is in a miserable mood until someone finally comes past for him to flag down for help. After this, Tom realises that although tractors are fun, maybe they're not the best transport method out there.

Tom ages through a few more years, and finds himself driving down another road in the middle of nowhere in his car, and sees a house on fire just off the road. Being a good samaritan, he pulls over and heads up the driveway to a woman running out of the house screaming "Please, help, help! My baby is trapped in there! Go and call 911, please!"

Tom turns around, then, before leaving, has a brainwave.

He turns back and walks towards the flames, saying "Don't worry, ma'am, I've got this."

He takes a deep breath in, and the fire disappears into nothingness. As you'd expect, the woman is in awe, and asks, "Oh my God, how did you do that?!"

Tom simply responds, "Well you see ma'am, I'm an extractor fan."

What tree do you wipe your hands on? A palm tree!

I heard a scary math joke, but I’m 2^^2 to tell it!

Have you heard of that new movie, “Constipation”? Well it doesn’t matter, it never came out.

I hurt myself when I went to a theme park in florida. When I went to the doctor, he started wrapping up my left leg, but then I pointed at my right and said “No, doc, it’s dis knee.”

Last night I got mugged by 6 dwarves. Not Happy.

When Queen Elizabeth farts, everyone in the room must pretend like nothing happened. Noble Gasses don’t cause reactions, after all.

What’s the difference between a seal and a sea lion? One electron.

What happens to nitrogen when the sun rises? It becomes Daytrogen!

I called the animal shelter today and said "I've found six kittens in a suitcase in the woods." They said "Are they moving?" I replied "I don't know, but that would explain the suitcase."

Why can’t you trust Atoms? Because they make up everything!

Why do nerds wear glasses? It helps with division.

Why should you tiptoe past the medicine cabinet? You don’t wanna wake the sleeping pills.

What twitches and is found at the bottom of the ocean? A nervous wreck!

What do you call a fat psychic? A four chin teller!

What do you call a 3 foot tall psychic on the run from the law? A small medium at large!

Help, I can’t stop reading books with female protagonists! I’m a heroine addict!

How did Sparticus react when he ate his wife for dinner? He was gladiator!

When does a joke become a dad joke? When the punchline becomes apparent!

19 and 20 got into a fight… 21.

My friend told me, “People who sell meat are disgusting!” So I said, “Yeah, well people who sell fruits and vegetables are grocer!”

How can turtles take photos of themselves? Shell-fie sticks!

What do you call a secret agent molecule? Bond… ionic bond. “Taken, not shared.” What did the dinosaur say to the other dinosaur? (Cut this part, but make a screeching noise)

How much does Santa’s sleigh cost? $0, it’s on the house.

If America switched from pounds to kilograms overnight there would be mass confusion.

I had a splinter once; it eventually got out of hand.

I’m going to go stand outside. If anyone asks, I’m outstanding.

Most people are shocked to find out how terrible an electrician I am!

What do mermaids wash their fins with? Tide What’s the coolest place to use the bathroom? The Lil Jon

Did you know that on average, people want three covers on their bed at all times? But that’s just a blanket statem

However, the mole couldn't reach them from the high trees and he struggled to climb them. Luckily, there was a tall giraffe who offered to help and got the oranges down for the mole.

The mole would go up to the giraffe every morning and ask him for some oranges. The giraffe would happily oblige but little by little he would get more irritated. One day, the giraffe finally got mad and told the mole to see the badger who could make a tool to help him get the oranges down from the tree.

The mole trundled over to the badger and asked him to make him a tool to help with the orange problem. The badger happily agreed to help and went into his shed. For a few days after: cutting, grinding and sawing could be heard coming from his shed when he finally emerged with a 4-pointed tool. He then proceeded to demonstrate the 4-point tool by sticking it into an orange and allowing the juice from which to drain down the arm of the tool.

The mole was extremely happy and excited by his new magnificent 4-point tool and showed everyone it's amazing capabilities. After a while, however, he realised he had shown it to pretty much everyone. Then he remembered the black cat resting under the oak tree. So he walked over to the tree and tried to show the black cat the 4-point tool. The cat said he couldn't see it properly and asked the mole to come closer. The mole took a few steps forward. Again, the black cat requested the mole to come closer and the mole cautiously stepped closer. Finally the black cat lunged forward and ate the 4-point tool.

The mole couldn't believe it and exclaimed, "Why did you do that?"

To which the black cat replied, "Oh haven't you heard? I am a 4-point tool eater Jaguar!"

St. Peter was guarding the Pearly Gates, waiting for new souls coming to heaven. He saw Jesus walking by and caught his attention. "Jesus, could you mind the gate while I go do an errand?"

"Sure," replied Jesus. "What do I have to do?"

"Just find out about the people who arrive. Ask about their background, their family, and their lives. Then decide if they deserve entry into Heaven."

"Sounds easy enough. OK."

So Jesus manned the gates for St. Peter. The first person to approach the gates was a wrinkled old man. Jesus summoned him to sit down and sat across from him. Jesus peered at the old man and asked, "What did you do for a living?"

The old man replied, "I was a carpenter."

Jesus remembered his own earthly existence and leaned forward. "Did you have any family?" he asked.

"Yes, I had a son, but I lost him."

Jesus leaned forward some more. "You lost your son? Can you tell me about him?"

"Well, he had holes in his hands and feet."

Jesus leaned forward even more and whispered, "Father?"

The old man leaned forward and whispered, "Pinocchio?"

Whenever the Alice in Chains song King of the Kats comes on I tell my son that I'm the king of the cats. It drives him crazy. He's made it his personal mission to tell me I'm not the king of the cats and preempts me with a "Dad, you're not the king of the cats!" Whenever it comes on. This has been going on a couple of months.

Fast forward to present day. We're driving and the infamous song gets shuffled on.

He says, "You're not the king of the cats."

I reply, "Then why does every cat we meet call me your majesty?"

He drops this gem, "They don't say that, and if they did, they'd say your meowjesty."

I couldn't be more proud.

My grandfather, in his younger days, retired from his NASCAR dreams to do construction so he could raise a family. Fast forward 45 years to 1994. I was around 15. My grandfather, grandmother, her mother, and I were on the return trip from the Costco and liquor store just inside the no sales tax state of Oregon. My grandfather was, as usual, driving. He raced for Lincoln and they sponsored him so they gave him a really good lifetime discount. He drove a brand new Continental his entire life. He always raced down to Oregon as fast as he could and then tried beating his time while driving back. Suddenly, at about 140mph, a Pheasant committed suicide on the front end. We could see feathers occasionally come loose. Grandpa already had a couple minutes to make up. Needless to say, despite my grandma's insistance, stopping to investigate wasn't in the plans. When we got home, he was cussing an ill timed traffic light with a bored motorcycle cop parked on the sidewalk waiting for his target. My grandma and great grandma nearly died when, without batting an eye, grandpa pulled the Pheasant off the car, grabbed his Gerber knife, and stripped, cleaned, and threw the bird on the BBQ. I was in dying from laughter at this point. Grandma and my great grandma were dying from embarrassment. He offered them some and grandma angrily refused for the 3 of us, calling it road kill. Without skipping a beat, he calmly replied "This isn't road kill, it's Continental Wild Pheasant, Twice-Grilled."

Friday after work, just sitting down to dinner with my dad, the news is showing on the TV. A story comes on about body parts that were found in a river recently. The police are appealing to anyone who recognises a tattoo thats on the forearm close to the hand, to come forward and help the police with their investigation.

My dad turns to me with a huge grin on his face and says, "Well, I guess that's a pretty handy clue to have".

Nice work dad.

Dad's turn in the check-in line comes up and walks up to the counter, hands in his armpits, elbows out, bobbing his head forward and back as he walk, which was abrupt yet fluid.

He gets to the counter, "brock! bock bock bock"

The lady at the counter says: "Excuse me?"

"Brock! brock bock bock bock" says my father

Worried she says "Can I help you check in?"

My father stares at her, bobbing his head forward and back. The lady looks confused, worried, looks at the rest of the line with eyes pleading for help.

My father then stands up straight, "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought this was this chicken counter" and proceeds to produce his proper papers

A little kid and his dad were walking past a shop one day when the kid spies a bright red tricycle in the store window. The kid starts to beg his dad for the it, saying that he never wanted anything more than that tricycle and that he would never be bad again. The dad simply asks the kid, "Can your dick touch your ass?". The kid, disarmed, just says "No." to his dad, who responds "Too bad, then." and continues walking.

A few years later, the kid (now a teenager) and his dad were driving past a motorcycle dealership. The kid takes one look at a beautiful Panhead sitting outside and begins begging his dad for the motorcycle. The dad just looks at his kid again and asks, "Can your dick touch your ass?". The kid, who had forgotten the tricycle until then, just responds with "No." His dad just chuckles and says "Too bad, then."

Fast forward another few years, the kid is now an adult coming home from his last year at college to see his folks. The first thing he does when he sees his dad is put on a great, big grin and ask him "Hey Pops! Can I get a Ferrari?". His dad, again, asks him "Can your dick touch your ass?", but this only makes the kid smile even wider. The kid responds with an enthusiastic "You betcha!", beaming right at his dad.

The dad just stares blankly at his son for a little while and tells him:

"Then you can go fuck yourself."

Long post is long:

Her: Remember dad's tomato bushes? Well they're attacking! At least one is leaning across the path trying to get at my window... We had the war of the roses, now its time for the attack of the tomatoes!

Me: I don't remember anything about tomato bushes. From one battle to the next.

Her: Yep! Lookout tomatoes here comes the chutney recipe!

Me: I can just imagine a cucumber campaign. Operation onion would be next, which will fail, causing everyone to cry. Dill Day follows, a great success for the allied gardeners. All too soon though, the kamikaze carrots set in, utterly ruining the radish raid. The mushroom maneuver is employed, saving the troops, allowing them to deal the final blow in the asparagus assault!

Her: Don't forget the pumpkins want to supply ground cover with heavy support...

Me: Ah yes, the pumpkin paratroopers.

Her: Thyme is running out...

Me: Prepare the beetroot bombs!!!

Her: Aim for Potato Garden!

Me: Fire the capsicum! Deploy the celery team!

Her: Bring in the egg plant division to support the capsicum!

Me: This is it boys, life or dirt! I want a passionfruit unit to find us a vantage point, and the strawberry unit to surround them!

Her: We had better bring the lettuce up to date!

Me: The cabbage are under withering fire, we need support from the raspberry division! The potatoes are mashed, so well need to send the zucchini in their place!

Her: The zucchini can't take that heavy fire, they'll be grated. Send spinach for some extra iron. The sweet potatoes are digging in at the ridge.

Me: Prepare the watermelon bomb, we need to finish this! The eggplant were squashed, deploy the broccoli brigade! The beans need to get out of there, or they'll be split!

Her: Cauliflowers are going in to retrieve the beans. How brave to risk their florets!

The corn commandos are deployed, but the artichokes are all out of heart, we need to boost morale.

Me: The leeks are down! They'll be flattened if we don't do something!

Are the spinach still operational?

Her: Too bad the pepper isn't on our side, they're well seasoned troops.

Spinach is a go!
Nothing has touched it...

Me: But wait! We still have the chillies to give them heavy fire!

Her: And the squashes and peas!

Me: The ginger is holding it's ground, but it's being cut down by the pineapple!

The basil should make things interesting, send them to aid the potatoes.

**Her:

So I'm taking a shower and she "accidentally" busted ass in the bathroom. Hot shower + smelly fart = not a good time. Fast forward to right before bed time and I make fun of her for what she did. She says "youre the one that got me a milkshake. You know what happens when I have dairy."

Me: Yes, clearly it comes out of your derriere.. I laughed and she said if she wasn't half asleep she would have laughed harder.

There was a boy in high school named Bonnie. As you can imagine, he was bullied and picked on because of his strange name. This lead to social anxiety and a few other issues, but there was one girl who helped him through all of his pain. He had a huge crush on this girl, and after weeks of psyching himself up, he asked her to the school dance coming up.

Much to his delight, he said yes, and off to the dance they went. They had a great time and shortly after, started dating. They spent a lot of time together, calling, texting and always hanging out. They were meant for each other. They continued dating after high school, into college. On their graduation day, he proposed to her on the stage. He was nervous about asking her in public like this, but as he got down on one knee, her face lit up, tears formed in her eyes. He asked her to marry him, she said yes and the crowd cheered.

Fast forward a few years, they've bought their own house, and she's now pregnant with their first child. In the delivery room, Bonnie is standing by her side, their newborn child in her arms.

"I love you so much, hon." Bonnie told his wife, holding one of her hands. "You can name our baby girl anything you wise." he told her.

"Love. I want to name her Love." she replied, looking into his eyes. Bonnie was surprised by the strange name, and at first hesitant to agree, but he told her she could name their daughter anything. He nods in agreement and they carry on with their lives.

Fourteen years later, as with what happened with Bonnie, Love was picked on in high school for her strange name. One day, Love came home crying.

"What's wrong, Love?" Bonnie asked her worriedly.

"I hate you! Why did you give me such a stupid name?!" she screamed at him. She was furious. She was tired of the teasing and the mockery in high school. In a fit of rage, she pulled out Bonnie's handgun she had found in his night stand. She pulled the trigger and a bullet passed into Bonnie's chest.

Love panicked and ran away, and Bonnie's wife came after hearing the gun shot. She ran to Bonnie's side, picking his head up in her hands. She asked him what had happened.

"Shot through the heart... And you're to blame..." He said, weakly. "You gave Love... A bad name."

My daughter just text'd me this:

Smart Ass "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

Gullible Loser "Why?"

SA "To get to the idiot's house."

GL "heh, that was horrible".

Fast forward 5 minutes

SA "Knock Knock"

GL "Who's there"

SA "The chicken"

GL "The chicken who....wait, I see what's coming".

She is so getting flogged when I get home!

'Interactive lecture' in a Systems Engineering class (not that that's relevant) when the Assistant Professor starts directing questions to the students to move forward in the lecture material.

Settles on me and asks me a pretty straightforward question that I started overthinking and got all deer-in-the-headlight-y.

Fancies himself some sort of comedian so he quips "C'mon, I'm throwing you a softball (question)."

To this I come up with an immediate response: "I don't play softball."

The bus ride to the station had been very stressful. I spent the entire time worrying if the bus even stopped at the train station. I ended up spending nearly an hour making two loops around the city before I finally realized that I had to hop off near the station. Public transport. Jesus.

I'd missed the train I wanted to catch due to my hour-long bus ride, so I had some time to kill before the next one arrived. It had been cold and raining when I left in the morning, but by lunch time it was warm and I was sweating, standing on the station in a big yellow hoodie and jeans.

I had overslept and skipped breakfast earlier, so I resolved not to let the loud farts coming from the old man next to me kill my appetite. I was desperate for a snack.

Initially the vending machine told me it would accept "EXACT CHANGE ONLY". Slightly annoying, but no real problem: I just fished out my change, inserted some alternative coins and punched in the number. I watched the object of my desire inch forwards, ready to drop into the bottom where I could collect it. For some reason I was terrified that it might get stuck. Robbed by a robot, how embarrassing. Luckily the packet fell into the tray. Finally something was going my way.

As I reached into the bottom of the machine and pushed open the metal door, it suddenly stuck. It was wedged in place and the gap was too small for my snack to fit through. "Motherfucker..." I whispered under my breath.

But I was too invested to give up now. Determined not to be beaten by a bloody machine, I pulled hard and the packet burst, spilling chips into the tray. I managed to salvage about half of the crisps and ate them greedily. Partially crushed, but still deliciously cheesy.

At this point it occurred to me that perhaps I should tell the station operator that the vending machine was broken. I walked up to the ticket office and saw a bored, tired looking man in his forties. "I just thought I'd let you know the vending machine is jammed," I announced.

The attendant got up, walked over over to the vending machine and gave it a solid kick, dislodging the little metal door which had foiled me. When he turned to me again his expression had changed from boredom to amusement. "So what flavour was it then? Strawberry?"

I groaned, but couldn't resist a smile.

I knew it was going to be a good day.