Locked Door Puns

Because communication is key.

My wife said, “You are not a Jedi, just use the goddamn key.”

It's just common cents

An-arr-key!

He said, "I don't know, I guess it hinges on some things."

A lackey.

XP from /r/jokes.

Because communication is key

Edit: it's from here, so please give the op credit

As I'm a key worker

They are key workers

Because they’re always safe at home

We opened for The Doors

Because it's not a door if it's a jar.

... Is that a key change?

There’s a lovely key change at the end.

Because of the higher-key

A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night? The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a very strange sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, We can't tell you. You're not a monk.

The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way. Some years later, The same man breaks down in front of the same monastery. The monks again accept him, feed him, and again fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier. The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, We can't tell you. You're not a monk.

The man says, All right, all right. I'm dying to know.

If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?

The monks reply, You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles, when you find these numbers, you will become a monk. The man sets about his task. Some 54 years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery.

He says, I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.

The monks reply, Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.

The monks lead the man to a wooden door where the head monk says, The sound is right behind that door. The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked.

He says, Real funny. May I have the key? The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone.

The man demands the key to the stone door. The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. He demands another key from the monks, who provide it.

Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire, And so it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst.

Finally, the monks say, This is the last key to the last door.

The man is relieved to know that he has finally reached to the end.

He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.

But he can't tell you what it is because you're not a monk.

Bump…

Bump…

Bump…

Walking faster, he looks back and through the fog he makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him.

Bump…

Bump…

BUMP…

Terrified, the man begins to run toward his home. The casket still bouncing quickly behind him.

Faster…

Faster…

FASTER…

Bump…

Bump…

BUMP…

He runs up to his door, fumbles with the keys, opens the door, rushes in and slams and locks the door behind him.

Rushing up the stairs to his bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding. His head is reeling. His breath is coming in sobbing gasps.

With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping towards him.

The man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is cough syrup!

Desperate, he throws the cough syrup as the casket!

And…

The coffin stops….

The shop owner directs him to a 1,500$ parrot who can sing Christmas carols. The man doesnt believe the store owner and asks him for proof before dropping the 1,500. The store owner locks the doors and escorts the man to the back of the store and tells him “This is a very special parrot, before he sings you must warm him up by holding a lit match 12 inches beneath.” He then takes out a match, lights it and holds it a rulers length beneath the parrot. After a few moments the parrot starts sining “jingle bells” in the tone of Frank Sinatra. Thinking this might be some cheap parlor trick he asks for several more demonstrations.. “Rudolph” “Frosty the Snowman” “Drummer Boy” even “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” in the best impersonations he’s ever heard! The man gladly hands over the cash and rushes home to amaze his wife. He holds the match a rulers length and nothing. The wife laughingly says he got ripped off. “ No no honey this works watch” he does it again only holding it half a rulers length this time and still nothing! The wife, laughing hysterically, starts going back upstairs. “NO honey it really works watch!” “Im going to bed, Merry Christmas” says the wife as she turns to head up the stairs. “WAIT Honey, one more time, please!” He pulls out another match, this time holding it three inches under the parrot who then squawks out “CHESTNUTS ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE”

It was a brisk Saturday morning when Gerald arrived at “The Café,” a hip coffee shop right down the street. Wearing his large, burly black coat, he stared hesitantly at his watch. Thick glasses adorned his bright blue eyes, his gaze like starlight in a clear night sky. He was waiting, intently twiddling his thumbs. After a buzz of his phone, the message from Dad popped up: “Parking now, be there in 5.”

“Dad,” he whispered under his breath, swiping the message away to once again reveal the image on his lock-screen: a hazy picture of an ultrasound.

Gerald had not spoken to his father for three years. They had had a falling out, over which he did not remember. To him it was a competition of who could wait the longest without calling or sending a text. Who could wait the longest: him without a father, or his father without a son? The idea of friction in the relationship hurt like a thorn; piercing his soul more and more everyday. Until recently, out of the blue, “Dad” popped up on his phone. The rest is history. The rest leads to that Saturday morning, at The Café.

Bang! A car door rang out not too far from where Gerald stood. Gerald saw him. His father wore his tweed jacket like a coat of armor. His strut was now weaker than before they stopped talking; a weakness evident in his cane which supported every right step. His shortly trimmed white beard juxtaposed against his uncut, curly grey hair gave him the image of a wise wizard from a fairytale. He used to be that figure to Gerald, yet instead of a nice ancient being acting like a stone to keep him grounded, Gerald had felt as though his father was a rock pulling him deeper and deeper into a sea of monotony. Holding him back from his true potential. Maybe that was why he left? He still did not know.

“Hello, son,” came the withered voice Gerald had sook for so long, yet now that it had arrived wanted to avoid. “I can’t believe it’s been so long!”

“Yeah,” said Gerald, allowing a smile to grace his face. “Too long!”

Then they hugged, signifying a change in their relationship. Gerald had hoped something could happen to bring them closer together. He did not want to go on wondering what could have been. The regret and sadness weighed him down. Before starting a new family, Gerald wanted to be reacquainted with his own.

After finding their table and sitting down, the two began to discuss life. It was like old friends catching up after a long break. Although it took some time, Gerald began to warm u

Did you hear about the magician who grabbed Eminem so hard his SnapBack fell off?

He pulled a rabbit out of his hat

What do you call a magician who is an administrator at a college, but nobody knows what students he is in charge of?

Whose dean’s he?

A magician went out to the store and bought a big metal structure so he could hang upside down and do situps. He also loved painting, but because of his style he often knocked the canvas around while dabbing on the paint. So he bought another, wooden structure, like an easel, but with clamps to hold the painting in place while he prodded it with the paintbrush. His wife asked, as he brought them in, what the hell he had just bought. He replied:

“Ab rack and dab rack”

What do you call a magician with very skinny fingers?

Slight of hand

The magician’s wife brought him to the store to buy gifts for a birthday party. She picked out a lovely candle, but wanted to include a nice note. The magician knew just what to do. He brought her down an aisle, found a section marked “birthday,” and said:

“Pick a card, any card”

The Russian magician, in 1932, found an amazing new piece for his act: a giant, wooden sarcophagus in the shape of a beautiful woman. The piece had giant, metal blades inside at waist level. They were locked in place while it was open, but retracted as it closed, making it seem as though the magician had escaped death. But one day, while he was practicing, the great sarcophagus fell over - door still open - right on the magician. When he was found, he was cut right in two. Moral of the story:

In Soviet Russia, box woman saws you.

Okay that’s it. I’m so sorry, I have nothing better to do.

The Piss de resistance.

Lock doors, stockpile and two runny nostrils

My girlfriend locked me outside the house🏠 because she got sick of my terrible wordplay jokes. So I texted her, "Oh pun the door."

I finally put a lock on the door to keep him from barging in.

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

I asked her: How else am I supposed to get in if you lock the door?

We were getting out of her car and she attempted to lock it with the fob. After failing a couple times, she reclosed the rear door and locked it. She then turned to me:

Her: "It wont lock if the door is ajar" Me: "What happens if it's a bottle?"

I thought her eyes were going to roll out of her head

His car crashes into a tree, and he escapes unhurt though his car is badly damaged. However, he needs to find somewhere to stay overnight. The man wanders alnog the road until he comes across a monastery. He knocks on the door, and a friendly monk answers.

Man: I've crashed my car and need a place to stay tonight, might I have one of your rooms?

Monk: of course, come right this way.

The monk shows the man to a room, and the man goes to sleep. At midnight, the man is awoken by a loud thumping on the ceiling. He thinks nothing of it and goes to bed, sleeping soundly the rest of the night.

The next day at breakfast he asks one of the monks about the thumping. The monk replies,"sorry, I can't tell you you aren't a monk". The man figures that that's a pretty fair response, and goes to try and fix his car.

After working on the car all day, the man returns to the monastery and asks to stay another night. The monks of course oblige, and the man goes back to the same room. This night, he is awakened by the same thumping, this time even louder. He wonders about it and eventually drifts off to sleep.

The next day, the man continues to work on the car, and needs to stay just one more night to complete it. The monks are happy to give him a room, but the man asks to me moved to a different room so he won't hear the thumping. The man goes to bed but is awakened by even louder thumping.

He decides to go investigate, and climbs the stairs, only to find a locked iron door, with the thumping coming from behind it. Unsatisfied, he goes back to bed.

The next morning, he asks the lead monk about the thumping. The lead monk replies,"sorry, can't tell you you aren't a monk". The man, filled with curiosity, asks the leader how to become a monk. The leader gives him 3 tasks: the first, to circumnavigate the globe, to learn about culture, the second task, to cut an entire field with scissors to learn patience, and the third, to memorize the entire monk book, to learn discipline.

The man completes all the tasks, and the leader takes him up to the iron door and pulls out a key. He opens the door to reveal the Monk's greatest secret.

If you're wondering what it is, I'm sorry, I can't tell you, you aren't a monk.

So my grandfather is on his honeymoon with our grandmother and they are driving to Las Vegas, on their way there they see a fellow on the side of the road. They debate about taking him to the city instead of leaving him there, the end up letting him get a ride to the city, they say "Hey sir, want a ride to the city?" He replies "sure thanks", they drive down the road and notice he has a bag, so they ask " what's in the bag?" He replies with "None of your damn business" they start to think in their heads, what if he has something illegal or dangerous, so my grandfather takes action, he goes to the side of the road and pretends to fake piss and opens the door and my grandmother kicks him out and my grandfather gets back in locks the door and they speed off, as they're driving they notice he left his back and dropped it in the car, they decide to open and see what it beholds, they open the bag and find a single piece of paper, the paper had wording on it, it said "None of your damn business."

straightforward.

Sorry, the door's locked.

Edit 1: 86 upvotes - by far the most I've ever had. Either this was just super clever or I need to post more.

Was going out to the garage to grab a soda, and as I'm passing my wife, she asks if I want a piece of cheese she's cutting up.

I reply with "I Quess-so"...

Got the best eye roll ever, go out, grab my soda, and when I get back to the garage door, she totally locked it lol.

My sister came home and opened her bedroom door to find the cats had been locked in there for a while and were very keen to get out. She then came in to the kitchen and asked. "How long have the cats been locked in my room? Because they flew out the second I opened the door" Dad: "Well, long enough to grow wings"

I came home from work and my wife pointed upstairs.

I just knew that our daughter had locked herself in her room and was crying her eyes out.

I knocked softly on the door and said, "Honey? Are you ok?"

She whimpered, "Daddy! I hate my haircut!"

I replied, “Don’t worry, it’ll grow on you.”

When I was four years old, my dad and I got into an argument over who should get the remote control. Because I was significantly smaller and younger, my dad won the argument. I was angry, so I walked my little four year old behind to my grandma's house that was across the street. Grandma wasn't home, but the door was never locked, so I made myself a poptart and proceeded to watch nickelodeon until my mom got home from church. Once I had my fill of fruity pastry and child entertainment I walked back to my house where my mom was screaming at my father. "How could you let a four year old just go like that? Unsupervised!". My dad was silent. My mother continued, " it's like you don't care at all about me or our children!" Still nothing from dad. "Well this is the last straw!" my mom shouted, "I'm leaving you! Do you have anything to say for yourself?" My dad spoke softly, "hi leaving you, I'm dad."

Me: Baby you know you're a criminal now? Her: What? Why? Me: For money laundering...

Her: Go make sure the door is locked

There are three classes of cheerios, the lower class (plain ol' cheerios), the middle class cheerios (frosted), and the elite class (honey nut). One soggy morning in Seattle, a plain cheerio awoke in his single room apartment. He looked out at the still sleepy city, blanketed in a mist of rain. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes on, this would be the day. He stood propped against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. "God I have got to stop this habit." He thought to himself. Glancing back and forth at the bustle of cheerios, he saw her. She looked about 25, devastatingly gorgeous, and he could smell the honey from where he stood. "Excuse me ma'am," his voice quivered, "I - I think you might be the most beautiful cheerio I have ever seen." She smiled and her otherwise golden brown face grew red. " This is a long shot, but will you marry me?' She was obviously caught off guard by this, but her red lips formed the word, "Yes." They raced through the morning mist of the city, and arrived at her fathers house. The cheerio bent down in front of her father. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing in marrying your daughter" "No! You are a regular cheerio and my daughter needs a high quality honey nut" he snapped. "But sir." "No means no damnit!" "Sir this is very unrea-" "You come back a honey nut and you'll have my blessing, my daughter is not about to marry a low life like you." The cheerio sprinted home, tears streaming down his face. He fumbled against the lock and sprawled out on his bed. When he awoke it was early, his sheets had a dark silhouette from his wet jacket. He sat up and lit a cigarette. "Damn." he sighed to himself. Walking in front of his mirror, he noticed something different. His body was frosted! He had become a frosted cheerio! He darted out the door without shoes, reaching the honey nut household in no time at all. He banged on the door, and the beauty's father answered. "Sir I am a changed cheerio! I'm frosted!" he exclaimed. Her father had a stern look on his face. "You think you are any better? The dirt on my boots are worth more than you." he hissed. The old honey nut slammed the door on the young frosted. He heard the deadbolt click. The newly frosted cheerio didn't take the same way home. He stood on the edge of a bridge, feeling the cool autumn wind on his sugar coated skin. Was he really going to go through with this? Was it worth it? No he was a frosted cheerio now. He couldn't get the girl, but he was a changed cheerio. He

This was one of her favorite jokes she loved to tell: One day, a man was walking home after a long day at work. As he waited for a crosswalk signal, he glanced back and noticed a coffin standing down the block. "Odd," he thought, but he ignored it and continued home. He turned the corner and managed to catch a glimpse of the coffin again. This time is was closer to him... like it was following him. He picked up his pace and ran into his apartment complex. The coffin was right behind him. In a fright, he dashed up the stairs to his place, locked the door and barricaded himself in the bathroom. Thud, thud, thud! The coffin was banging on the bathroom door. The man frantically looked for something to defend himself. Just as the coffin busted through the door, the man grabbed some cough syrup from the medicine cabinet, threw it at the coffin ... and the coffin stopped.

My dad told me this the first time on Halloween night back when I was 9. He tells it to this day to any of my cousins, nephews, or any kids that happen to linger too long at the house when he's giving out candy. It's a long one but I have always enjoyed it.

Back when I was about your age, I went on a Halloween adventure. There was an old abandoned house on our street where a series of grisly axe murders had taken place years before. The house had never sold and was left vacant and was left to fall apart. There was a local legend that if you went into the house on Halloween night, you'd be confronted by the ghost of the murderer himself, still looking for more victims to add to his terrifying story.

My friend Tom and I decided to go through with it one year. Knowing everyone would be too terrified to go into the house, we snuck in easily on Halloween night. The place was falling apart inside, the carpet was wet and moldy and the wallpaper was peeling off everywhere. We headed down carefully to the basement down a set of creaky stairs.

At first we found nothing. Just an empty creepy old house. Suddenly we felt as if we were being watched. I was looking through one of the rooms in the large basement when I suddenly heard Tom shriek. I spun around and turned my flashlight and Tom was being chased by something, no someone. It looked like it was the murderer! A crazed man with an axe!

We turned and tried to run anywhere. We were in the basement but couldn't get up the stairs because we were blocked. We ran into the side room which looked like it might have been the laundry years ago. We locked the door and looked for a way out. The only thing we could find was a small window that opened onto ground level. As I climbed out I heard a pounding on the door. I managed to wriggle my way through the window and turned around to help my friend Tom. Panicking, he managed to get his top half through the window when I noticed the pounding stop.

Tom was stuck! I kept trying to pull him up but I couldn't. I pulled as hard as I could as Tom panicked and thrashed even more. I thought something had him caught, but it was even worse. The murderer had gotten behind him and was holding him back! He was too strong for me to overcome and he was pulling Tom's leg!

Just like I've been pulling yours this whole time.

If you find yourself locked out of your house, talk to the door because communication is key

When behind him he hears:

BUMP...

BUMP...

BUMP...

Walking faster, he looks back and makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street towards him.

BUMP...

BUMP...

BUMP...

Terrified, the man begins running home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him.

FASTER

FASTER

BUMP...

BUMP...

BUMP...

He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, and slams it shut and locks it behind him.

However, the casket crashes through the door, with the lid of the casket clacking

Clapity-BUMP...

Clapity-BUMP...

Clapity-BUMP...

on his heels, the terrified man runs.

Rushing upstairs in the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps.

With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping towards him

A man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! Desperate, he throws the bottle of cough syrup at the casket and...

The coffin stops.

A man is walking home alone one foggy evening, when behind him he faintly hears:

thump...

thump...

thump...

Senses tingling, he begins walking faster only to look back and make out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street towards him.

THUMP...

THUMP...

THUMP...

Terrified, the man begins running home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him.

FASTER

FASTER

THUMP...

THUMP...

THUMP...

He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, slams it shut and locks it behind him.

However, the casket crashes through the door, and with the lid of the casket clacking on his heels, the terrified man runs.

Clappity-THUMP...

Clappity-THUMP...

Clappity-THUMP...

Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps.

With a loud CRASH! the casket breaks down the door. Thumping and clapping towards him, the man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! Desperate, he throws it at the casket and...

The coffin stops.