Gun Down Puns

Well, I guess that backfired.

The second cowboy is relieved to be alive, and thankful that he knew that that was no bacon tree.

It was a ham bush

The little shit wants me to be gunned down in an alley.

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

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 cowboy rides his horse up to a saloon and ties it outside. He enters the bar, sits down, and orders a whiskey.

Minutes later he hears someone ride off with his horse. He runs outside, and sure enough, his horse is gone.

He goes back in the saloon, fires his gun three times in the air, and says "At the count of ten my horse better be back here. I don't want to do what I had to do in Laredo."

A few minutes later, he sees through the door his horse being returned.

Just before he leaves the saloon, the bartender whispers to him "so what did you have to do in Laredo?"

The cowboy says "I had to walk home".

When I was in the Navy, I was on the deck of a destroyer one day, and I saw a the periscope of an enemy submarine surface nearby. So, quick as a flash, I whipped off my hat and dropped it over the periscope. As the periscope was covered, the submarine didn't realise it had reached the surface, so it kept rising... and when it got to 10,000 feet, we shot it down with the anti-aircraft guns.

Once upon a time there were three little pigs, Pork Chop, Hambone, and Bacon.

The boys lived at home with their mother. One day their mother said, “I no longer have enough food to feed you boys, you need to go out on your own and find your fortunes.”

Not wanting to upset their mother they left the house together to seek their fortunes.

Several miles into their journey Bacon, the little pig everyone liked best, said, “Let’s build our houses here! This seems like a great place to start making our fortunes.”

Pork Chop and Hambone agreed. So they all began building their houses.

Pork Chop, the laziest of the bunch, decided to build his house out of straw, which he apparently stole from a nearby field. It was not a very sturdy building material, but Pork Chop didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play all day, and he didn’t want to spend too much time building.

Hambone was willing to work a bit harder and he decided to build his house out of sticks which he procured by de-limbing every tree within a 300 meter radius of their homestead.

Hambone and Pork Chop were happy. Now all they had to do was to play and sleep the rest of the day.

Now Bacon was a hard worker. He knew that his brothers had used bad materials and shoddy construction methods and he wanted to build the best house he could. He found several tons of bricks stacked in neatly ordered pallets in the forest which he decided to use for his building material. It took him several days, but when he was done Bacon had the best house on the homestead.

The next day a wolf, Scott Howard, happened upon the pig brothers and their new homestead. He spied the straw house and smelled Pork Chop inside and began to think to himself that Pork Chop would make a mighty fine meal, so Scott went and knocked on the door.

Scott said, “Little Pig! Little Pig! Let me in!”

Pork Chop replied, “No way José! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”

Scott, undeterred by the reply says, “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crappy straw house to the ground!”

Scott began to huff and puff. He was evidently having some sort of asthma attack, but after a few tugs from his handy dandy rescue inhaler, he was able to muster enough wind to blow Pork Chops straw house to the ground.

Pork Chop narrowly escaped Scott’s massive jaws. Scared, and now homeless, Pork Chop ran for the nearest shelter he could see. Hambone’s house.

Scott, undeterred, chased Pork Chop to his new hiding place. Scott was very pleas

A police officer walks into a tattoo parlor, hoping to get something cool drawn onto his shoulder. He walks up to the artist and shows him a picture of what he wants. In large text on a ribbon it says, "Protect and Serve." Below it, is a picture of a a badge, a pair of handcuffs, and a pistol. The tattoo artist is very good at his job, and says he can get this done in one session, so the officer sits down and the artist gets started. A few hours later, the artist is just finishing up, inking the last details of his service weapon. Once the last line is inked on the trigger, the cop gets up from his chair and looks in the mirror to see his new tattoo. His face twists into a look of shock and terror, pulls out his gun and opens fire onto the tattoo artist, killing him in the process. He gets on his radio, calling for backup, and took a defensive position until a few more cops and the police chief showed to the parlor minutes later. The chief, while examining the scene asks the officer, "What the hell? Why did you shoot this guy?" The cop says, "What did you expect me to do? The guy drew a gun on me!"

sits down and orders bamboo. Once he finishes his meal he stands up, pulls two guns from his furry pockets and shoots up at the ceiling not harming anyone. He then drops the guns and walks out. Confused, his waiter runs after him and yells, "Hey bear! What was that all about??!!". The panda says "Look me up." Confused, the waiter looks up "panda" and reads, "A bear that eats bamboo, shoots, and leaves."

DEAR NEIGHBOUR: Hi, Fred, this is Richard, next door. I've got a confession to make. I've been riddled with guilt for a few months & have been trying to get up the courage to tell you face-to-face. At least I'm telling you in this text, & I can't live with myself a minute longer without your knowing about this. The truth is that, when you're not around, I've been sharing your wife, day & night. In fact, probably much more than you.
I haven't been getting it at home recently, & I know that that's no excuse. The temptation was just too great. I can't live with the guilt & hope you'll accept my sincere apology & forgive me. Please suggest a fee for usage, & I'll pay you. Regards, Richard

NEIGHBOUR'S RESPONSE: Fred, feeling very angry & betrayed, grabbed his gun, went next door, & shot Richard, killing him. He went back home, shot his wife, poured himself a stiff drink & sat down on the sofa and calmed down. Fred then looked at his phone & discovered a 2nd text message from Richard.

2ND TEXT MESSAGE: Hi, Fred.
Richard here again. Sorry about the typo on my last text. I expect you figured it out & noticed that the darned Auto-Correct had changed "wi-fi" to "wife".
Technology, huh? It'll be the death of us all.

They see a deer, so the physicist takes a shot and misses 3 feet to the left. The mathematician takes a shot and misses 3 feet to the right. The statistician puts his gun down, and yells “good job guys! We hit!”. (Technically a joke from my professor, but it felt very fitting here).

There once was a man who had a job driving a passenger train between two large towns. It could be a very dull job to some, but as the old saying goes, one man's trash is another's gold; he wanted to be a railroad man since he was a boy.

He was a wiz behind the controls of the train, and commanded the 15 car vehicle effortlessly as if he had been born to do the job. He prided himself on the fact that he could bend the rules and speed through curves and grades that made other motormen shiver and back off.

One day however, he wasn't so lucky and came round a bend too fast and derailed his train. He backed off the throttle and braked as much as he could, managing to only have one fatality out of 500 passengers on his train.

Months later there was a trial and he was found guilty of manslaughter in the highest degree, a capital offence in that land, and sentenced to die by electric chair. Punishment came swift, unlike most places, and 3 days after sentencing the former railroader was asked for his last meal.

"I'll have a banana," "Just a single banana?" said the perplexed guard. "The warden will grant you a feast and all you want is that?"

"Just a single banana." he said.

After he downed the fruit, he was strapped into the electric chair an hour later.... The warden hit the switch, lights flickered, and the crackle of electricity could be heard for over a minute...

...but our train jockey instead rose from the chair looking more like he got a stiff massage, rather than be put to death! Well in that nation, the law of the land states that if a man somehow survives being put to death, they must be set free...

...And so it came to pass that our engineer was let go...

And for whatever reason, he got his job back!

So he was back railroading again doing the job that he loved. You'd think he'd have been more cautious with this second chance he'd been given, but you'd also be wrong. Speedy Gonzales with a train license decided to gun his locomotive to hard and send it off the tracks again!

Of course, this time he was tried for the same crime, but at a different time (his was a fair commonwealth and double indemnity was simply unheard of!) So fair was their nation, that the jury came up with the same judgement and punishment. So three days later, when asked for his last meal, the engineer simply said "I'll have 2 bananas..."

Not less than 60 minutes after consuming the last morsel was he strapped into the chair and the switch thrown... And....

NOTHING.

He said to go get a gun, look down the barrel and pull the trigger.

I did it. It just killed all the fish.

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."

I went on vacation in highschool with one of my good friends and his Dad and another friend, who is basically the coolest fucking guy you'll ever meet (We call him Cool Daddy Mike). Its not so much a dad joke, more just a fucked up joke my friend's Dad told me, but on our way down to Florida from Ohio, we stopped halfway there to stay in a hotel and finish the drive the next day. Since it was just 4 of us for 1 night we only got one room with 2 king sized beds. When we got to the room his dad looked at me and said "If you woke up one morning with a condom hanging out of your ass, would you tell anyone?" I of course said no I would not. He then said "Well alright looks like we are sharing a bed tonight" and points two finger guns at me. It may seem fucked up but if you knew his dad like we all did, you would have died laughing with us. (Just to clarify I did not get sexually assaulted in my sleep by my friend's dad)