Fifteen Puns

A receding hareline.

But most only have four.

He sets it on a plinth and tells the students they’re free to take a couple after class is over. Halfway through teaching the senpai or sensei’s assistant approaches and tells him he has an important phone call. He tells the class to find a partner and practice. He comes back fifteen minutes later and the plinth is knocked over, the bowl is in pieces and the wontons crushed and scattered about. He is dismayed that his students would engage in such sensei-less wonton destruction.

... Tenor fifteen miles away. Zing.

By the time it airs, she's gonna be called Fifteen.

Because the first fifteen weren't good enough.

Me: Are you sure it’ll make sense? I haven’t seen the first fifteen.

She told him she doesn't have any but she's got Aleve.

I piped up and asked "well where you going?"

In the room full of about fifteen people, I got a big mix of groans and genuine laughs

The CIA had changed its recruiting practices, what with all the recent leaks and other problems. So Mr. Johnson was more than a little surprised to see a pine tree, which was dressed in a rather nice suit, waiting outside his office when he arrived at 9 am. He asked his secretary, "Gladys, who is this?"

"Mr. Johnson, this is Mr. Cone, our newest hire. He wanted to talk with you about the Honduras assignment."

Mr. Johnson spoke to Mr. Cone in his office. His new pine tree colleague was very knowledgeable and well-spoken, but there was something about him that threw Mr. Johnson off. He tried to dismiss his concerns as imaginary, but it gnawed at him all through the morning. He barely touched his lunch, as some of the things Mr. Cone had said were still swirling around and around in his mind. He was sure something was wrong, so he went in to see the head of their office branch, Mr. Smith.

"Johnson! Come right in, come right in," said Mr. Smith, puffing on a cigar. Mr. Johnson poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped at it nervously.

"You're being rather quiet today, Johnson. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

"It's just this new guy, Mr. Cone," Mr. Johnson said carefully, staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "Are we sure we know him as well as we think we do?"

Mr. Smith took only a small puff from his cigar before letting his hand rest back on his desk. "Now really, Johnson," he sighed, "you're a good agent. Your caution has served you well in the past, but paranoia doesn't look so good on you. Mr. Cone has the most impressive resumé I've seen come across my desk in the last fifteen years. I've personally had him vetted by the best men in the business. He's going to be an asset to this office."

That was the response Mr. Johnson had been afraid of getting, but he continued to press his cause. "I understand that, sir. It's just that I'm getting the strangest feeling from this Cone fellow. Don't you think he's a little too perfect? A little too well-qualified?"

Mr. Smith stopped smoking his cigar altogether. A distant look came into his eyes as he mulled over the possibilities. "You don't suppose--"

"Yes," said Mr. Johnson, "I think he's a plant."

Note: I'm a mom, not a dad, but I'm pretty sure I only thought of this because my father-in-law tortures me with these kinds of stories almost constantly.

"It's been fifteen years since you won your first championship, what is the biggest difference between then and now?"

"15 years probably"

Tim Duncan's the man Basing this off of memory, don't remember word for word actually

Me: Hey dad, how do you [insert random task or activity]?

Dad: Very carefully.

He's been using this reply on me for fifteen years, since I was six years old. As such, it has become a daily usage for me. My girlfriend hates me for it.

The Mrs and I were at Michaels (hobby/craft store, if you haven't heard of it) looking for things for our kid's moustache themed first birthday party.

We were having trouble finding anything, so we asked a man. He said it was scattered all across the store, so naturally, I asked him "you mean you don't have a mus-stash?"

He was so impressed, he spent about fifteen minutes and showed us everything he could think of that was mustachioed.