Hook, Line & Sinker Puns

My dad owns a small garden supply store. Today, he got a new shipment in, and as I was helping him unpack the boxes, I pulled out a couple fishing rods, which he's never stocked before.

Me: You gonna start selling fishing gear?

Dad: Yup.

Me: How come?

Dad: Just for the Halibut.

The questions is, will Neil Patrick Harris on the back?

I said, if you drive you are a driver, if you hop then you are a hopper, so if you cook you are a cooker.

my son to his mother: Dad and I are hookers!!

Single-handedly.

but graphing is where I draw the line

The bartender says, “pal, if you want punch, you’ll need to get in line.”

The guy looks around and there is no punch line.

Last night I dreamt I was turning my handwriting into a custom font.

It started out normal with basic straight lines but by “Z” it had become a very ornate and filigreed design, reminiscent of the designs of monks in old bibles.

Someone watching me work then asked me what the font was called.

I responded: What’s a monk’s favourite font?

They shook their head and shrugged.

Me: MonastArial!

I started laughing but only received an exasperated sigh in return.

Me: Wait, I’ve got another one. How about GaraMonk? 🤣

Ahhhhnd I woke myself up because I was laughing so hard at my own joke and had to look up of Monastarial was a real word. It is.

People lined up for blocks.

His objective is to hook up with fancy, Eastern girls. He sees a couple and walks up to them:

"Where do y'all girls go to school at?"

They say "Yale"

He says "WHERE DO Y'ALL GIRLS GO TO SCHOOL AT?!?!"

A receding hare line

Did to many lines of code

One a rapist and one a conman. The mayor decides to have them punished for their crime in a way that reflects their crimes and also make some money for the city. He sets them in stocks and charges $2 to punch the conman in the face and $5 to kick the rapist in the balls. The line goes around the block all day.

By the end of the day the conman can barely be recognized. Someone pays $2 walks up and kicks him in the balls instead.

The mayor yells “Stop you can’t do that!” The guy asks “why not he’s still a criminal?”

The mayor says, “this is the punch line.”

When the punch line becomes apparent.

*credit to the children’s librarian at the Louisville Public Library.

A teenage boy is getting ready to take his girlfriend to the prom. First he goes to rent a tux, but there’s a long tux line at the shop and it takes forever.

Next, he has to get some flowers, so he heads over to the florist and there’s a huge flower line there. He waits forever but eventually gets the flowers.

Then he heads out to rent a limo. Unfortunately, there’s a large limo line at the rental office, but he’s patient and gets the job done.

Finally, the day of the prom comes. The two are dancing happily and his girlfriend is having a great time. When the song is over, she asks him to get her some punch, so he heads over to the punch table and there’s no punchline.

Some stories have hooks.

This story has a bloody good one.

It's about love—

Or at least marriage.

My marriage.

At heart, it's your typical fish out of water story, but like I said there's a hook.

The hook's in the beginning.

Although it's really the tail end that's most moving—at least now, when our love's drying up.

Understand:

I'm a fisherman, and I caught my wife with another man.

Well, I caught the man first.

I used Craigslist.

But I suppose the details don't really matter. It's enough to know that by the time he was naked in the shed it was too late for him to change his mind.

He broke down easily. He wasn't particularly thick skinned.

That's where the hook came in—

pushed through a fold of flesh on his back.

He wasn't much in the size department, but I didn't intend for him to get hung up on it. Unfortunately, he kept trying to escape, so what choice did I have? Then he seemed quite insecure, so I pierced him with another steel hook just in case.

Like I said:

Bloody good hook.

After he stopped struggling, I took him down and dragged him to my boat. Then we went fishing.

Hold on, though.

I may need to backtrack a little, because you may be wondering how I even knew she was out there.

The answer is: I'd already seen her swimming a few times.

It was love at first sight.

Like many couples nowadays we met on the net.

So back to when I was fishing:

I was in my boat with the Craigslist man with the steel hooks in his back. I had tied a thick rope to one of the hooks, placed the man onto a net, and pushed them both overboard. He splashed and choked, attracting a lot of attention.

I waited for her call.

It came.

She sounded so near to me.

When she swam just close enough to the Craigslist man in the water, I pulled in the net—and there she was: shining, mine to the gills and writhing so enticingly!

I took her ashore.

I placed her in a water tank and told her she would be my wife.

I screwed her—

shut.

For days I watched her bang—

on the glass.

Until one day it happened: the glass cracked, the tank broke open, and with the water she spilled onto the floor.

Now here I am, watching my marriage fall apart.

Her gills are barely stirring.

Her face: dry and still.

It's only her scaly tail that's still gently moving.

I caught my wife with another man. I met her on the net. I thought our love would last forever, but now, listening to her shriek, I realize I was catfished! I wanted to marry a siren—but this thing is nothing

The bar tender says “wow how’d you get that peg leg?” The pirate says one day I was out sailing and a shark jumped aboard and tore it clean off” next the bartender asks “and the hook? How’d you get that?” The pirate responds “well we were out whaling and one leapt out of the water and bit my hand clean off” the bartender then asks, “ok so what about the eyepatch??” The pirate responds “I was out walking on the deck of my ship when I looked up and a seagull shit right in my eye” the bartender is a bit confused and says “that made you lose your eye?” “No” says the pirate “it was my first day with the hook!”

People were lining up for blocks

First you dig a BIIG hole. Then you fill it up with ashes. Then you line the outside of the hole with peas.

Then, when the elephant comes to take a pea you kick it in the ash-hole.

A long wait for the punch line.

The bartender comes to him and says 'you look different now, is anything wrong'

Pirate: 'Oh nothing'

'What about your leg, where did it go'

'I boarded a ship, slipped and it got eaten by a shark'

'What about the hook, where did the hand go'

'I lost it in a heated swordfight'

'Then how did you get the eyepatch'

'I was cleaning the deck and a bird pooped in it'

'That doesn't make any sense, how can you get an eyepatch from a bird pooping in your eye'

'It was my first day with the hook'

Mathematicians really crossed a line there.

Cut a hole in the ice and line the rim with frozen peas. When the bear comes to take a pea, kick him in the ice hole.

They’re all on line.

They’re a border line issue

(I am on a math kick lately, please forgive me.) A math professor was asked by a college student, "Professor, you are always using the words, 'for all practical purposes,' but what is a simple explanation of what that means?" The Professor thought for a bit and said, "imagine that we lined up all the boys on one side of the class and all the girls on the other side of the class. If I asked them to step half the distance between one another, each step would bring them closer, but they would never touch. But, after a very few steps, they would be close enough for all practical purposes."

"Hi hungry, I'm-"

son shoots him in the heart before he can finish the awful line

with his dying breath "Hi hungry, I'm dead!"

People are lining up for blocks.

But it was out of line

Because once you lose your first hand, you’re hooked!

There was no punch-line.

It ended when I crossed the Finnish line.

A little bit of Background information:  When I was a young lad, my father was a professional glass cleaner.   Not just for a job, cleaning Glass was this man's passion!  He always wanted me to take over for him when I grew up, but I always thought it would be a pain, it was a silly job, really.   However, I knew that my father would be shattered if I didn't put an honest effort into the cleaning business.    The first time I perfectly cleaned a mirror, I realized I could really see myself doing this!   My father was wiping away tears of pride when I began to become as passionate as he was.

Anyways, fast forward to a couple months ago.   I have taken over my father's cleaning company, and was working a job at a publishing agency.  Now, due to the pandemic, this building had set up different entry points depending on the purpose of your visit, and each one was gated and stationed by an employee so you could have your temperature taken and go through a checklist to ensure you don't have any symptoms, etc.

After finishing the contract at this building, the owner was so impressed with my work that he said he would like to recommend me for a permanent job with a friend of his.   At first, I was skeptical (I had taken over the family business, after all), but it was becoming difficult to find regular clients anymore, so I agreed.    He gave me a single sheet from a notepad, and told me to write down something about myself that sets me apart from others in my line of work, and I should make it a very impactful statement,  his friend was a very busy man and wouldn't look at more than notes like these.    I wasn't sure what to write on the spot, so he told me to think about it, and return the note when I come back to leave the bill for my work.

So I came back a few days later, went through the gate to drop off my bill and my note about how I am much better than any other glass cleaner out there.    Well, it turns out the friend of the publishing agency's owner was a hiring manager for a well-known computer company, and my note really caught his eye, and I was offered the job!   Now I make more money every two weeks than I had with a month!   At first, I though my father would be upset by me leaving the family business behind, but he told me "As long as you are happy where you are, with what you are doing, then you are succeeding in life.  You are no longer a student of glass cleaning, you are my equal, and I am proud of you"  I never realized how freeing it

At some point, we'll have to draw the line

I'm quite the music history buff- always have been. My first inkling as a college student was to explore turning this into a career. So I found a music museum, wrote an impassioned essay, and somehow landed the 12-week internship.

When I got there, I met the curator, a woman named Rhonda. Like me, she had grown up enjoying music and always wanting to know more. Thanks to grants and donors' generosity, she had helped continue the museum's legacy of showcasing what might otherwise be lost to history.

The tradition of the museum had always been to let the interns work in the orchestral wing. My assignment in particular was the string section.

Now I didn't know a whole lot about the string family, but I saw some really fine specimens and decided we could perhaps tell a broader story about the progression of the instruments. And so I began studying.

After about a week of studying, I went to Rhonda and asked if we could do something different here. She was very receptive to the idea and introduced me to her assistant, Dr. Will. His PhD was in history, natch, but he still relished having everyone call him Doctor. It was funny.

Dr. Will helped me learn so much about how the family of instruments developed over time, their overall cultural footprint, etc.

Did you know a fiddle and a violin are the same thing? Did you know the viola family dates back to the 16th C.? Vivaldi wrote 25 cello concertos!

I dazzled visitors with tales of the Stradivarius, Amati and Guarneri families. I noted the increase in neck length over time. I reassured them that despite the name catgut, no cat intestines were used in the creation of these instruments—but it sure might be sheep or goat.

Sadly, 12 weeks goes by quickly when you're having fun, and I got enthusiastic letters of recommendation from Rhonda and Dr. Will, and I do miss them. Hello, you two.

I figured I could waltz (sorry) right in to more museum jobs later, but boy, was I mistaken.

I kept interviewing for the job, but after about the 10th cold shoulder, I had to find out what I was doing wrong. I had done such a good job, after all, right??????

So I fucking called the museum

got the guy who interviewed me on the line—and he wasn't thrilled to even talk to me. But I asked him, sir, why didn't I even get a call back? Weren't my qualifications good?

He said, yes, BUT.......

"...we simply can't hire someone who has exhibited a history of violins."

Let's say they brought my story hook line and sinker

I know where to draw the line...

Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. Every time he closes his eyes, he's sees Charlie hiding in the darkness of the forest. Not that you could ever see those bastards, mind you. They were fast and they knew their way around the jungle. He remembers the looks on the boy's faces when they walked into that village and... oh Jesus. He shouldn't think about that now. Sometimes he still hears Tex's slow southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes. He always had a pack of Luckys. But the boys are gone now... he knows that. It's--it's just that he forgets sometimes. And sometimes the way that seven looks at him... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. And he feels like he's back there... In the jungle... In the darkness.

Seven has a hook for a hand as well, which is very scary. Six is afraid of Seven because he is a damn psychopath.

That’s the punch line.

A man has three dogs. The 1st is named Max. The 2nd, named Brutus, and the third named Clarice. One day, the owner comes home to find his childhood stuffed animal in pieces on the floor, cotton strewn about everywhere. In an effort to find out who the culprit is he lines up his three dogs. Looking at them he asks the 1st, “Max, did you do this?” Max wagged his tail and didn’t move from his spot. The owner looks over to the third, Clarice, who has taken it upon herself to lay down for some naps. As he looks into the middle of the two, he can see a tuft of cotton escaping from his snout and exclaims: “Pet two, Brutus?”

Because they can always get to the Finnish line.

It's the fee line.

Dunno if i should tell my wife about the pickup line

"I worked at a factory that made women's undergarments, and i stood at the end of the line. Every time a pair came down, id put them on my head and say dees'l fit'r."

A receding hare line.

A receding hare line.

A receding hare line