Hand Gun Puns

Now it’s a Sub Machine Gun

He’s a small arms dealer.

Cat : You're one short buddy

Speak now or forever hold your piece.

Apparently being a small arms dealer is frowned upon.

Old family jokes, which means I’m sure variations are out there for both of them that most of you have heard

#1- an elderly woman is watching her normal sitcoms when suddenly the news cuts into her show to show live footage of a madman driving the wrong way on the interstate! Worried sick, she calls her husband, and says “honey, there’s a madman driving the wrong way on the highway! Be careful on your way home!” Her husband responds irritated, “what are you talking about? There’s not only one madman! There are hundreds of them!”

#2- a cop pulls over a man who was speeding. He approaches the car and asks for license and registration. The driver says, “I’m sorry officer, I can’t do that! You see, this car is stolen so the registration isn’t under my name! Also, the gun I used to steal the car is in there and I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable!”

The cop is obviously a bit flustered, and asks for the man to roll down his back windows to look in the backseat. The man replies, “honestly officer that’s impossible, as I have 10 kilos of cocaine in the footwells and don’t want to expose them to outside!”

At this point the cop is quite worried and has his gun drawn, asking the driver to open the trunk! The driver replies “officer, I’m afraid I can’t do that due to the two bodies I have in my trunk!”

At this, the officer runs back to his car and radios for backup.

After about 10 minutes, the police sergeant drives up and with his gun drawn asks the man for his license and registration. The driver says, “absolutely sergeant, no problem” and hands him a perfectly normal and legal registration and license.

The sergeant then says, “and I hear you have drugs in the back seat!”

“Oh not at all, sergeant!” Says the man, opening the back window. The car is very clean and the footwells empty.

Confused, the sergeant then asks: “what about your trunk? I hear you have two dead bodies in there?”

“Not at all officer”, says the man, “only my groceries!” Popping the trunk, it’s obvious there’s nothing wrong with the driver or the vehicle.

“I don’t understand; my officer told me you told him all of these things. What’s going on?!”

The driver responds “I bet he told you I was speeding, too, didn’t he?”

He was a small-arms dealer.

When an eel bites your hand, and that's not what you planned, That's a moray.

When paternity tests, lead to ratings success, that’s a Maury.

When our habits are strange, and our customs deranged, That's our mores.

When your horse munches straw, And the bales total four, That's some more hay.

When Othello's poor wife Becomes stabbed with a knife, That's a Moor, eh?

When a Japanese knight Uses his sword in a fight, That's Samurai.

When your sheep go to graze In a damp marshy place, That's a moor, eh?

When your boat comes home fine And you tie up her line, That's a moor, eh?

When you ace your last tests Like you did all the rest, That's some more "A"s!

In New Zealand you see An aborigine, That's a Maori.

Alley Oop's homeland has A space gun with pizzazz, That's a Moo Ray.

A comedian ham, With the name Amsterdam, That's a Morey.

When your chocolate graham, Is so full and so crammed, That s'more, eh.

When you've had quite enough, Of this dumb rhyming stuff, That's "No more!", eh?

But Canadians protest, underrepresented in jest, what’s one more, eh?

——————————-

(Repost of mine from over a year ago. Sorry. I remembered it while stoned and it was funny again. Credit to u/weizguy74 for the Maury line.)

His best friend, Roy, was known around town for having an adventurous streak that a small town just couldn't satisfy. Roy yearned to travel the world, to rub shoulders with the well-to-do, and to squeeze every drop of excitement he could out of life. While most young folk in town, my grandpa included, were resigned to their lot, Roy was driven by his dream. He worked incredibly hard, taking every hired-hand and handy-man job he could find. He would walk five miles each way to clean a gutter if there was a nickel to be made. His hometown was always spotless, because Roy would pick up every glass bottle he saw to get the deposit back, and every can he found would get turned in for recycling.

The years stretched on. Grandpa settled down with his high school sweetheart in a one-room cottage and had my dad, and not much else. Roy kept hurrying from one job to the next, never spending a dime on a date. Everyone would just roll their eyes and quietly gossip about how poor Roy's obsession was robbing him of a real life.

One day, Roy showed up at Grandpa's house, all decked out in a brand new khaki safari kit, complete with helmet, binoculars, and elephant gun, and announced that he had finally saved up enough for passage to Africa to go big game hunting. He was especially proud of the fine leather boots he was sporting. "Indestructable" he called them, totally impenetrable to water, wind, and snow. No trench-foot for him while he tracked rhinos on the savannah!

Grandpa congratulated Roy on his achievement and wished him bon voyage. Over the next three months, the town felt Roy's absence. Litter lay where it fell, gutters overflowed in heavy rain, small-time farmers rose that bit earlier and bedded that bit later to cover the work Roy used to help with. Of course, the gossipers just turned their chat from how Roy needed a dose of reality to how thoughtless it was of him to just up and leave. Most folks were convinced Roy was gone for good. After all, how could he come back from such a high-falutin' adventure to his tiny, no-account hometown?

But return Roy did, and everyone crowded around at the bar to hear his account of his safari. To their surprise, Roy told them that, for all the time he had been away, he only bagged one trophy that was currently on a slow boat back. It turned out, once Roy got a close-up look at the elephants, rhinos, giraffes, gazelles, and all the fine animals of the African savannah, he lost all heart for hunting. He just couldn't imagi

A soldier shows up for military training, but realizes he forgot to bring his gun.

The sergeant hands him a stick and gestures to the training field.

“You’ll have to use this, soldier. If you need to shoot someone, just aim your stick at them and shout ‘Bangity bang-bang’. If someone gets too close to you, poke them in the gut with it as though it was a bayonet and shout ‘Stabbity stab-stab’. Now get moving.”

The soldier thinks this is pretty ridiculous, but to his surprise, when he aims his stick at a fellow trainee across the field and shouts “Bangity bang-bang!” the other soldier goes down in a theatrical display. Then, another trainee tries to run past him, so he pokes the guy in the ribs and shouts “Stabbity stab-stab!” and he too goes down, pretending to be dead.

So, the soldier starts running through the mock-battlefield, shouting “Bangity bang-bang” and occasionally “Stabbity-stab-stab”, until eventually he realizes he’s the last man standing.

He’s feeling pretty proud of himself until another soldier rounds a corner and starts walking toward him. Slowly. Stiffly. Menacingly.

The soldier takes aim with his stick and shouts, “Bangity-bang-bang!”

But the other soldier doesn’t go down this time. He keeps approaching, arms stiff at his sides, boots stomping aggressively into the ground.

The soldier begins to sweat. He clears his throat, adjusts grip on his stick and hollers, “Bangity bang-bang!” But nothing happens. The other soldier keeps marching toward him.

Now the soldier panics. He pretends to reload his stick and desperately cries out, “Bangity bang-bang! Bangity bang-bang! Stabbity stab-stab!” But to his dismay, nothing works.

Finally, the other soldier reaches him, kicks him in the shin and knocks him onto the ground.

He stands over the fallen soldier and says: “Tankity tank-tank.”....

I’m all right.

buh-dum-tsss

The cop got out to inspect the car, when he smelled something decaying. Instantly, the cop pulled his gun and asked Schrodinger to get out with his hands up.

Prof. Schrodinger cooperated and got out. “What’s the matter officer?”

“Open the trunk! Slowly!” The cop demanded.

Schrodinger paled. “No officer, you’ll ruin my experiment!”

The officer took the safety off his gun, now alarmed. “Open it! Now!”

The professor sighed, but opened his trunk. Instantly the smell of decaying flesh filled the air, but the officer was startled. “That’s a dead cat!”

Schrodinger sighed. “Yes, there is one now.”

(No cats were actually harmed in this!)

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

except for a hand gun.

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

I have a bunch of stupid baseball questions. I know most of the rules, I just want to make sure I have all my bases covered.

• Imagine there’s a fan of the team that is currently fielding in the stands, and that said fan has a prosthetic arm. The batter hits a pitch and sends it on a home-run trajectory into the stands. If the fan in the stands throws his arm at the ball and diverts it back in the field of play, can they rightfully say that they were just “lending the team a hand” by stopping the home run?

• Consider the exact opposite situation - the fan’s team is at bat and the batter hits a fly ball to the outfield. If Elastagirl from the Incredibles just happened to be the fan in question, can she spring into action and catch the ball before the outfielder has the chance to?

• Now, imagine I smuggled a water gun into the stadium on a particularly hot day, and I managed to squirt sticky black liquid onto the batter. Does that mean he can take a walk since he was “hit by pitch”?

• Consider the freak circumstance where a ball in motion collides with a bird, causing it to spiral in its descent and eventually collide in turn with an umpire. Can the player responsible for the ball’s motion be ejected from the game due to repeatedly flipping the bird at an umpire?

• Can a losing team sub out their man on the mound with a large quantity of beer to prolong the game? There’d still be a pitcher on the mound!

• If a pitcher throws a slider into the strike zone and the batter doesn’t swing, should the umpire consider it a strike, a ball, or the catcher’s dinner?

But I saw it coming and instinctively ran. My adrenaline was pumping as they were chasing after me and I kept glancing over my shoulder and they were big guys and catching up to me! Luckily a gun shop was open, so I ran in, all the way to the back of the store and leaned against a large metal cabinet used for locking up guns. The clerk saw me and said: "Are you okay, can I help you?"

I put my hands on the cool metal of that cabinet, caught my breath and said: "Thanks. I feel safe now"

*edit wording

My son is 5. He was cutting out paper and put it in the shape of a (very crude) gun.

"Dad, what kind of gun does this look like?"

I dunno son - it kind of looks like a hand gun.

Son: "A gun that shoots out hands?"

..........he got me.

Uncle: "Don't make any false move" while making a gun motion with his hand Dad: "true. True. True. True" with every motion he made

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'm sitting at the kitchen table browsing Reddit and my boyfriend holds up a banana like a gun so I put my hands up. He says in a serious tone, "I don't find you appealing".

When an eel bites your hand, And that's not what you planned, That's a moray.

When our habits are strange, And our customs deranged, That's our mores.

When your horse munches straw, And the bales total four, That's some more hay.

When Othello's poor wife Becomes stabbed with a knife, That's a Moor, eh?

When a Japanese knight Uses his sword in a fight, That's Samurai.

When your sheep go to graze In a damp marshy place, That's a moor, eh?

When your boat comes home fine And you tie up her line, That's a moor, eh?

When you ace your last tests Like you did all the rest, That's some more "A"s!

In New Zealand you see An aborigine, That's a Maori.

Alley Oop's homeland has A space gun with pizzazz, That's a Moo Ray.

A comedian ham, With the name Amsterdam, That's a Morey.

When your chocolate graham, Is so full and so crammed, That s'more, eh.

When you've had quite enough, Of this dumb rhyming stuff, That's "No more!", eh?

Me: Did you hear that electricity story on the news??? Wife: No, what happened? Me: People said that it was SHOCKING!

(Wife proceeds to make a gun to her face motion with her hands)