Left Child Puns

right up until the moment she became a vigil-auntie.

“Bison”

It has really impacted my outlook on life

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

There was, for instance, the time he conducted a crew of new S.A.R.H. (Society for the Aesthetic Rearrangement of History -BJ) recruits – all from late twentieth-century Terra – on a training study of Carter’s World, a newly established agricultural colony attempting to support itself by the export of edible nuts. Barely into their second generation, and having yet to show a profit, the colonists were technologically backward. Nevertheless, they showed a surprising ingenuity in the use of their few advantages. It was this resourcefulness that Feghoot was demonstrating to his rookies.

“Look at the perfection with which these streets are graded”, exclaimed one student. “Earth-moving machinery on this scale is strictly high technology stuff. How can they do it?”

“A new alleyway is being constructed, nearby”, said Feghoot. “Let us walk that way while I explain.” As they strolled, he told his students that countless centuries before, the Carter’s World system had been inhabited by a now-vanished race of giants. This very planet had served them for a nursery, and among the many artifacts they had left were thousands of childrens blocks, immense and precision-cut. You simply jack one up onto logs, bring it where you want it, put collapsible jacks underneath, snake out the logs, spread soil more or less evenly beneath, and collapse the jacks.

“I see”, said the student. “It’s not graded road at all; its a simple hammered-earth base.”

“That’s right,” Feghoot went on smoothly. “You just hit the road jack and don’t come back no mo.”

His students registered dismay and anguish.

“Isn’t that right, old-timer?,” Feghoot demanded of an ancient Carterian standing by the mouth of the newly completed alley they had just reached.

“Ahm afraid not, suh”, said the senior citizen, and the students giggled at Feghoots discomfiture. “Oh, we used to do it that way, but it was far too much trouble. It’s the soil heah. You see, the very same soil which produced our famous cashews is so high in clay content that a child could roll out a road of it. Then, we simply use a system of lenses to bake it into hardness. Ahve just completed this alley mahself, and ahm just a retired professor of Sports History, much too old and feeble to handle hydraulic jacks.

“So you see,” he finished, eyes twinkling, “Mah hammered alley is really cashews clay.”

Howls of agony rose from the students, but Feghoot never hesitated. “And he”, he said, turning to his students, “is clearly the gradi

He yells "yeah my left one, my right one, and a weeKNEE!" Child giggles ensue. Instilling dad jokes at a young age. Dadding done right. (:

My Dad was the worst. And by that, I mean the best. He had a Dad Joke for everything.

I accidently left my wallet in my pants and they went through the wash?

"Don't you know it's illegal to launder money?" He would crack.

We would drive by the cemetery and he would always remark.

"That place is so popular, people are dying to get in"

Many groans were had.

I would ask him, "Dad, where do you get all these awful jokes?" and he looked square in the eye and said.

"Son, on the day you were born - your Grandfather - my father gave me a book. '1001 Dad Jokes' and that where I get them from"

And life continued. Any opportunity to crack wise he would take it. Even when I moved out and got my own place it didn't stop. I had my Dad over to help me repaint the walls from cream to white.

"Boy" He whistled. "This wall sure pales in comparison to that one"

My eyes rolled and he just shrugged. "It's the book!"

He couldn't even help himself at my wedding and broke out a Dad Joke during the toast.

"If this is the toast, where are the eggs?"

"Sorry son, it's the book!" He said with a devilish grin.

So months pass and my wife is in labor at the hospital with our first child. I'm sitting in the waiting room with my dad for support. Suddenly, a nurse comes out beaming with glee.

"Congratulations, sir! It's a girl!"

Me and my dad jump up and whoop for joy, hugging. I can't wait to go in and see my wife and child.

"Wait son" My dad says and pulls a little book out of his jacket pocket. "This is for you"

I look at the little book and sure enough, it's "1001 Dad Jokes"

I tear up instantly.

"I...I.." I stammer.."I'm touched.."

My dad gets the world's biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hi touched...." He pauses for effect.

"I'm Dad"

About wether our child will be left or right handed. My wife:“Maybe he’ll be ambidextrous!” Me: “That would be handy”

Bison