Mr. Men Puns

RETIRED HUSBAND

After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to WalMart. Unfortunately, like most men; I found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like most women - she loves to browse. Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter, from the local WalMart:

Dear Mrs. Harris:

Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion, in our store.

We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to, ban both of you from the store.

Our complaints against your husband, Mr. Harris, are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras:

1. June 15: He took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other people's carts when they weren't looking.

2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.

3. July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, 'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away'. This caused the employee to leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her Supervisor that in turn resulted with a union grievance, causing management to lose time and costing the company money. We don't have a Code 3.

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&Ms on layaway.

6. August 14: Moved a, 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.

7. August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the children shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department to which twenty children obliged.

8. August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?' EMTs were called.

9. September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.

10. September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while, loudly humming the, 'Mission Impossible' theme.

12. October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his, 'Madonna Look' using different sizes of funnels.

13. October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'

14. October 22: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed;

'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'

15. Took a bo

I remember years ago when in my remote town in Alaska there were 10 men stuck underground. I don't recall the circumstances that got them into this situation but it was clear that if they didn't get out soon they weren't going to make it.

All of our local rescue and public services were unable to get them out and they were running out of time. With only 18 hours remaining they sent for the only expert who could help, a rescue operations legend Mr. Puh. If he could get a plane into town it could make all the difference.

I remember gathering around the radio, biting our nails, as weather conditions worsened and threatened the planes journey.

I don't remember how long I stayed awake that night, but I will never forget the words I heard when I turned the radio on in the morning: "Puh not in, ten dead."

A quaint little men's class,

a few with class,

some smelling of a gin glass,

some with eyes of a lass,

the remainder eyeing a lad,

but all glad,

and all present,

youngster of the present,

bearders of the crescent,

readers new testaments,

preachers of old testaments,

bearers of saffron tenets,

wearers of white tints,

weird lovers of croissant,

well, all here, will all hear?

we never know,

lets look at the show

 

The English teacher, said,

"how to drink a juice?"

i know, said bart the bartender,

"with vodka and chicken tender"

the weirded beardo now angry,

showed he was a shouter,

wanted to be a bart-ender,

while shushing the crowd,

use a pipe, piped up a voice, loud,

"huh" exclaimed preacher pastor,

"no smoking" he said, showing a guilty fluster ,

"no sir" said the voice,

I'm extra maker,

spoke the voice quicker,

Mr.White scratching head,

"I'm an ex-straw maker",

the air cleared.

 

Proceeding further, Teacher continued,

the class was listening, eyes glued,

"etiquette is important" he said,

"wear napkin before eating",

their faces changed,

pulse now beating,

Mr.White said, "sir, we don't bleed",

an irritated saffron Sundar spoke,

"if you bleed, education you don't need"

the English sir, now a sundered bloke,

calmed the masked fish market,

as his God's fate chisel hammered,

"Do you know how to fork?" he stammered,

a brief silence, and too many whispers later

"I Pen is use sir", said a bright face,

"Do you know how to use a fork?" he corrected,

with damage now done, Silence resumed.

 

>ThePundits

The CIA had changed its recruiting practices, what with all the recent leaks and other problems. So Mr. Johnson was more than a little surprised to see a pine tree, which was dressed in a rather nice suit, waiting outside his office when he arrived at 9 am. He asked his secretary, "Gladys, who is this?"

"Mr. Johnson, this is Mr. Cone, our newest hire. He wanted to talk with you about the Honduras assignment."

Mr. Johnson spoke to Mr. Cone in his office. His new pine tree colleague was very knowledgeable and well-spoken, but there was something about him that threw Mr. Johnson off. He tried to dismiss his concerns as imaginary, but it gnawed at him all through the morning. He barely touched his lunch, as some of the things Mr. Cone had said were still swirling around and around in his mind. He was sure something was wrong, so he went in to see the head of their office branch, Mr. Smith.

"Johnson! Come right in, come right in," said Mr. Smith, puffing on a cigar. Mr. Johnson poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped at it nervously.

"You're being rather quiet today, Johnson. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

"It's just this new guy, Mr. Cone," Mr. Johnson said carefully, staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "Are we sure we know him as well as we think we do?"

Mr. Smith took only a small puff from his cigar before letting his hand rest back on his desk. "Now really, Johnson," he sighed, "you're a good agent. Your caution has served you well in the past, but paranoia doesn't look so good on you. Mr. Cone has the most impressive resumé I've seen come across my desk in the last fifteen years. I've personally had him vetted by the best men in the business. He's going to be an asset to this office."

That was the response Mr. Johnson had been afraid of getting, but he continued to press his cause. "I understand that, sir. It's just that I'm getting the strangest feeling from this Cone fellow. Don't you think he's a little too perfect? A little too well-qualified?"

Mr. Smith stopped smoking his cigar altogether. A distant look came into his eyes as he mulled over the possibilities. "You don't suppose--"

"Yes," said Mr. Johnson, "I think he's a plant."

Note: I'm a mom, not a dad, but I'm pretty sure I only thought of this because my father-in-law tortures me with these kinds of stories almost constantly.