Inside Forward Puns

...right in front of a house where there’s a huge party going on. He walks in and notices that the party is somewhat divided. There’s a clear distinction between the people waiting for the bathroom and the people queued up for drinks, etc.

Considering the urgency of the bathroom queue, he walks over to the drinks table and asks everyone there if they wouldn’t mind helping him push his car to get it started. They agree but even with the full might of several people, the car doesn’t budge. He thanks them for trying and they all head back inside.

A little while later, the doorbell rings. The man sees the host open the door to the largest pizza guy he’s ever seen. The behemoth is holding 15 pizzas with one hand, a pallet of buffalo wings with the other, with a keg strapped to each shoulder. The man jumps up and asks the pizza guy for his help pushing the car. He agrees and they head to the street.

With barely one touch of a pinky on one hand, the car lurches forward and starts right up. The man drives off, waving behind him and yelling a quick, “Thank you.”

As he catches sight of the party fading into the distance, he says to himself...

“Thank goodness for the delivery because that punch line sure is weak.”

My grandfather, in his younger days, retired from his NASCAR dreams to do construction so he could raise a family. Fast forward 45 years to 1994. I was around 15. My grandfather, grandmother, her mother, and I were on the return trip from the Costco and liquor store just inside the no sales tax state of Oregon. My grandfather was, as usual, driving. He raced for Lincoln and they sponsored him so they gave him a really good lifetime discount. He drove a brand new Continental his entire life. He always raced down to Oregon as fast as he could and then tried beating his time while driving back. Suddenly, at about 140mph, a Pheasant committed suicide on the front end. We could see feathers occasionally come loose. Grandpa already had a couple minutes to make up. Needless to say, despite my grandma's insistance, stopping to investigate wasn't in the plans. When we got home, he was cussing an ill timed traffic light with a bored motorcycle cop parked on the sidewalk waiting for his target. My grandma and great grandma nearly died when, without batting an eye, grandpa pulled the Pheasant off the car, grabbed his Gerber knife, and stripped, cleaned, and threw the bird on the BBQ. I was in dying from laughter at this point. Grandma and my great grandma were dying from embarrassment. He offered them some and grandma angrily refused for the 3 of us, calling it road kill. Without skipping a beat, he calmly replied "This isn't road kill, it's Continental Wild Pheasant, Twice-Grilled."

I clipped a picture of him and put it inside. I told him how proud I am because from this day forward he is independent.

Because if they fell forward they would land inside the boat