Long Gun Puns

Now it’s a Sub Machine Gun

There was a race horse named Pat, who was one of the greatest race horses to ever live. He set records that were near impossible to beat. After a long time of racing, he retired to an old stable with some old friends. They were very happy that he retired there to stay with him, and congratulated him on all of his records that he set.

Once Pat retired, he started keeping track of all the up and coming horses that were winning a lot. There was a race horse named Charlie that was doing really great and winning all his races. Pat saw this horse and watched him race. Charlie started to break all of Pat’s records and Pat was a little upset with this.

After a while, Charlie decided to retire after an extremely successful career in racing. By chance, Charlie decided to retire at the same stable that Pat retired in. When Charlie entered the stable, everyone went up to him to congratulate him on his records and wins. Pat went up to Charlie and said, “Hey Charlie congratulations on all of your wins! You broke a lot of my records and I was very impressed.” Charlie responds, “go away old man, I’m better than you ever were.” Pat was blown away by his response. He galloped away from Charlie with defeat.

After a while of thinking, Pat decides to challenge Charlie to a race. Charlie agreed to it and wanted to race right away. He said “We will race to the tree over there and turn around and come back and whoever gets there first will be the winner.” Pat was still healthy but he needed a few weeks to get his legs back into shape for the race. Charlie gives Pat 2 weeks to get ready.

After 2 weeks pass, they are ready to race. “Hey Pat, before we race I want to warn you that I win my races by passing them by the end. So don’t get all cocky and think you are going to win.” Charlie says. Pat thanks him for the warning and they start getting set to race.

The gun sounds and they are off to race. Pat starts out in front, and nears the finish. Out of know where, Charlie zooms ahead of Pat and wins the race.

Pat was very disappointed in his loss, but congratulated Charlie anyways. A dog comes up to them and says, “Wow, that was a fantastic race! Neither of you should be upset with that. You both were so great!” Charlie looks to Pat and Pat looks to Charlie. They are astonished. Charlie says, “Say that again! Say it again!” The dog says a little confused, “Well I just said that you both were so great out there.” Pat says, “Charlie! It’s a talking dog!”

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

There once was a man who had a job driving a passenger train between two large towns. It could be a very dull job to some, but as the old saying goes, one man's trash is another's gold; he wanted to be a railroad man since he was a boy.

He was a wiz behind the controls of the train, and commanded the 15 car vehicle effortlessly as if he had been born to do the job. He prided himself on the fact that he could bend the rules and speed through curves and grades that made other motormen shiver and back off.

One day however, he wasn't so lucky and came round a bend too fast and derailed his train. He backed off the throttle and braked as much as he could, managing to only have one fatality out of 500 passengers on his train.

Months later there was a trial and he was found guilty of manslaughter in the highest degree, a capital offence in that land, and sentenced to die by electric chair. Punishment came swift, unlike most places, and 3 days after sentencing the former railroader was asked for his last meal.

"I'll have a banana," "Just a single banana?" said the perplexed guard. "The warden will grant you a feast and all you want is that?"

"Just a single banana." he said.

After he downed the fruit, he was strapped into the electric chair an hour later.... The warden hit the switch, lights flickered, and the crackle of electricity could be heard for over a minute...

...but our train jockey instead rose from the chair looking more like he got a stiff massage, rather than be put to death! Well in that nation, the law of the land states that if a man somehow survives being put to death, they must be set free...

...And so it came to pass that our engineer was let go...

And for whatever reason, he got his job back!

So he was back railroading again doing the job that he loved. You'd think he'd have been more cautious with this second chance he'd been given, but you'd also be wrong. Speedy Gonzales with a train license decided to gun his locomotive to hard and send it off the tracks again!

Of course, this time he was tried for the same crime, but at a different time (his was a fair commonwealth and double indemnity was simply unheard of!) So fair was their nation, that the jury came up with the same judgement and punishment. So three days later, when asked for his last meal, the engineer simply said "I'll have 2 bananas..."

Not less than 60 minutes after consuming the last morsel was he strapped into the chair and the switch thrown... And....

NOTHING.

My dad used to play a game with me and my brother that was, in effect, an extended dad joke.

The "beginner" version, when I was younger, was when I would be talking about something, my dad would intentionally misinterpret it so that we could correct him. The objective being to keep up the misinterpretation in as long of a chain as possible.

Me: "Dad! Top Gun is on TV!"

Dad: "Doesn't that movie have that whiny folk singer on the radio in it?"

Me: "...No, dad, that's Tom Petty, not Tom Cruise."

Dad: "Oh, I thought he was Rosanne Barr's husband?"

Me: "No, dad, that's Tom Arnold, not Tom Petty."

Dad: "Oh. I thought he was that golfer..."

Later, once I figured it out, we moved to "advanced mode", where we skip the "correction" and just prove that you catch the reference by making another error in response.

Dad: "Oh. I thought he was that golfer..." (Arnold Palmer)

Me: "...wait, I thought that was the victim in Twin Peaks?" (Laura Palmer)

Dad: "...no, you're thinking of the lady who was the actress in Jurassic Park." (Laura Dern)

And so on. Did anyone else's dad's do something like this? Or any current dads? I currently play a version of this with my wife where she'll put on the radio and I'll intentionally misinterpret the artist. (Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody is playing, I comment to the effect of "God, I love Styx. Such a great song.")

How do you kill a blue elephant?

• With a blue elephant gun.

How do you kill a white elephant?

• Choke him till he turns blue, then use a blue elephant gun.

Did you know elephants paint their toenails to hide in bags of skittles? No? Have you ever seen an elephant in a bag of skittles? NO? WELL I GUESS IT WORKS!

All the guys in highschool band would call me a girl whenever my stomach would hurt after playing an instrument too long.

• Why'd it hurt your stomach? Minstrel Cramps.

I brought a girl over once and her name is Jessica. My father has a pretty severe case of tinnitus where he hears about 5-6 different tones at any given time. She announced her name and he thought it was Melissa for a few minutes. Eventually she corrected him.

He stared at her blankly for a moment and then asked, "Why'd you change your name Melissa? I think Melissa is a much nicer name."

Goddamnitdadwhyyoudothistome.

These are only a few. I practice very hard every day with my friends to become as punny and corny as a father should be with jokes. Someday I'll make him proud.