Diseased Puns

Cherpies, but don't worry.

It's tweetable.

Leper cons.

A leper con.

So we are playing dnd and our Catfolk Barbarian gets sick from being bitten from a giant tick a few days ago. She's pretty salty about it because it's made her physically weaker and she can't hit thing as well. The GM (her dad) says "She is sick with a disease that's like an extreme form of lime disease." "My God". I said "It's Lemon Disease." Without skipping a beat the GM says, "Yes. And it's made a sour puss."

We all die.

My doctor says it's terminal.

The mortician asked the deceased’s wife how she would like the body dressed. He points out the man looks good in the black suit he’s already wearing. The widow however said she thought her husband always looked his best in blue, and she would really like him in a blue suit. She then hands the mortician a blank cheque and says “I don’t care how much it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing.” The woman returns the next day for the wake. To her delight she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe. Remarkably, the suit fit him perfectly. She says to the mortician, “whatever this costs I’m very satisfied, you did an excellent job and I’m incredibly grateful. How much did you spend?” To her astonishment the mortician presents her with her blank cheque, and he says “there’s no charge.” Shocked she replies “no really, I feel like i must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit.” “Honestly ma’am”, the mortician says, “it costs nothing, you see a diseased gentleman about your husbands size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday. He was wearing an attractive blue suit. So I asked his wife if she minded if her husband went to the grave wearing black. She had said it made no difference so long as he looked nice. So from that point on it was really just a matter of switching the heads.”

It's called Chirpies. It's a canarial disease. It's untweetable.

We're called "Gluten for Punishment."

Our first single is "Bread or Alive."

Desperate survivors are forced to live in a post-alpaca lip tick wasteland.

He gets a taste of his own medicine.

Me: "How rare?"

Doc: "You pick the name.

They were right. I should have waited until next week.

It runs in your jeans

I'm speechless.

Arrrrrrrrthritis.

Fouchy!

Barman: "Get your shots here."

Twobearculousis

I’ve caught you bread handed

The doctor told me my symptoms are flaring up.

Hypothermia! It’s the coolest way to go.

But how can they say that when it cures salmon?

A plague-an

He hasn’t responded yet, but when he does I’ll find out if he supports youth in Asia.

CORVID-19.

But it is GOUT

New cases have lately been on an uptick.

Herbies

Me: Is it contagious?

Doctor: Is what contagious?

Staff infections.

The doctor says it’s terminal

It didn't go viral.

I've heard it was a Paris-ite

A lepercon

He said, “Wow, that’s the worst case of parking son’s disease I’ve ever seen.”

Because a little joke never hurt antibody.

I said I can't help it doc, its a pun-creatic disease.

Because camping is in tents.

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

CROW-VID-19

Alzheimer's and Diarrhoea . You're running but you don't know where .

I still had a few ticks up my sleeve

I think it may be terminal

My doctor says it’s terminal

My doctor says it terminal

My doctor says it's terminal.

My doctor says it’s terminal.

my doctor says it's terminal

The doctor says it's terminal.

The doctor says it's terminal