My Kind Of Town Puns

She asked the pastor of a local church if he knew of any houses with rooms to rent that were close to town, but out in the country. The pastor kindly drove her out to see a house with a room to rent. She loved the house and decided to rent the room. Then, the lady returned to her home in England to make her final preparations to move to Switzerland.

When she arrived back home, the thought occurred to her that she had not seen a “W.C.” in the room or even down the hall. (A W.C. is short for “water closet” and is what the English call a toilet.) So she immediately emailed the pastor to ask him where the “W.C.” is located.

The Swiss pastor had never heard of a “W.C.,” and so he Googled the abbreviation and found an article titled “Wayside Chapels.” Thinking that the English lady was asking about a country church to attend near her new home, the pastor responded as follows:

Ms. Smith,

I look forward to your move. Regarding your question about the location of the W.C., the closest W.C. is situated only two miles from the room you have rented, in the center of a beautiful grove of pine trees. The W.C. has a maximum occupancy of 229 people, but not that many people usually go on weekdays. I suggest you plan to go on Thursday evenings when there is a sing-along. The acoustics are remarkable and the happy sounds of so many people echo throughout the W.C.

Sunday mornings are extremely crowded. The locals tend to arrive early and many bring their lunches to make a day of it. Those who arrive just in time can usually be squeezed into the W.C. before things start, but not always. Best to go early if you can!

It may interest you to know that my own daughter was married in the W.C. and it was there that she met her husband. I remember how everyone crowded in to sit close to the bride and groom. There were two people to a seat ordinarily occupied by one, but our friends and family were happy to share.  I will admit that my wife and I felt particularly relieved when it was over. We were truly wiped out.

Because of my responsibilities in town, I can’t go as often as I used to. In fact, I haven’t been in well over a year. I can tell you I really miss regularly going to the W.C. Let’s plan on going together for your first visit. I can reserve us seats where you will be seen by all.

Sincerely,

Pastor Kurt Meier

My morning walk with the dog was cut short today. There's a park we usually wander through so she can sniff and explore, but today we couldn't get in because the path was blocked by an army of angry geese.

I was telling my mom about this and she mentioned there are geese at the river where she and a friend take their dogs, too. She said they must all be in town for some kind of conference. Then she paused for half a second and continued:

I bet it's a religious thing. They're here to preach the goosepel.

(To satisfy the rule: that's a play on gospel.)

Here's a joke my dad told me. Sorry if you've heard it, but I found it hilarious, and I think you might enjoy it.

In a small town in the suburbs, there was a small family of balloons. There was a mummy balloon, a daddy balloon, and a small child balloon. Every night the boy would sleep between his parents, but his father had had enough.

"son, I know you love sleeping between us, but you're getting a bit too old for it., " the father said. "You're nearly 8, you're a big boy, and your mother and I think you should sleep in your own bed from now on. You can stay tonight but starting tomorrow we want you in your own bed. Do you understand?"

"Yeah dad, I understand..." the boy said with a maudlin tinge to his voice.

"okay son, I love you."

"love you too dad"

The next night the boy tried sleeping in his own bed, but there was a storm outside. It was a dark, ominous storm - the kind of storm that sounds like a cataclysm for the end of the world.

The boy was scared, so he went to sleep in his parents room. However when he tried to squeeze between them, he found he didn't fit. He felt defeated. He felt scared. He felt alone.

But then an idea struck him. He decided he'd just let a little bit of air out of his father. He tried to squeeze in again, but had no such luck. So he let a little bit of air out of his mother. He tried again. Still no luck. Finally, he decided to let some air out of himself. Success! He squeezed in tightly and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning his parents were furious. His father was feeling particularly angry, and screamed at his son.

"son, I told you not to sleep in our room. I told you to sleep in your own bed! Didn't I say that Hun?"

"yes dear," the mother said, feeling slightly deflated.

"so son, what do you have to say for yourself?" the father asked in anger.

"it was dark and stormy and..." the boy tried to spit out.

"I don't care son!" the father interrupted. "you can't keep doing this! I'm very disappointed. You've let me down, you've let me down, but worst of all..."

Driving through Gackle, North Dakota, my dad lays this one on my mom: "What kind of a town name is 'Gackle?' I suppose their football team is called the Jackals. If you played on the team, you might be the Gackle Jackal tackle."