Notice Paper Puns

Gershwin's rapped CD's in blue.

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."

Liam Neeson is a huge movie star. He is so busy filming and traveling that he rarely checks his correspondence. One day, he goes to the post office so he can receive all his letters and a mailman asks him to sign a check out sheet. As Liam reads the paper, he notices something odd: right next to his name, the mailman wrote his name backwards. When asking why, the mailman replies: "it's not your name, sir, it's just that since you rarely come here, you haven't seen your mail before and I just wrote it down as a note".

And he was right, for Liam Neeson had "no seeN maiL".

The end.

A man is riding his horse through the desert, and, well, he starts to get thirsty. He sees a small town off in the distance, so he sets off in that direction to get some water for his horse and some whiskey for hisself.

Well, as he gets into that little town he starts to notice something peculiar. Not a soul is out. Sun's setting, but still plenty of light. Water in the horse troughs tells him it ain't a ghost town, but folks ain't comin' out for some reason.

Now, as soon as he turns onto the town's main street, he sees a soberin' sight; the sheriff, on a ladder, hammering the last nail into a brand new gallows. He sidles his horse on up to the sheriff and says, "Pardon me sheriff. I don't mean to pry, but pray tell, who're them gallows fer?"

The sheriff looks around, surprised to see someone out. He steps down, takes off his hat and scratches the back of his head thoughtfully, before replying, "Well, I reckon you must be a stranger in these parts. I reckon then that you ain't never heard of Brown Paper Bart. Anyway, we're lynchin' him come sunrise."

"Brown Paper Bart? I reckon not, sheriff. That's a mighty peculiar name, pray tell, whaddaya call him Brown Paper Bart fer?"

"Wayill, I reckon we call him Brown Paper Bart on account 'a the fact that everything he wears is made a' brown paper. His hat's made a' brown paper, his boots is made a' brown paper. His chaps is made a' brown paper, his neckerchief's made a brown paper. Heck dang shoot, even his lunch bag is made a' brown paper!"

The man looks at the sheriff a moment, perplexed, before replying, "Well, sheriff, I reckon that's a mighty peculiar thing for a man to do, but that don't explain these brand new gallows. Pray tell, what're you lynchin' Brown Paper Bart fer?"

[Insert a dad-length pause here.]

"...Rustlin'."

So in my calculus class last year in math, there were these two Chinese twins. Ving, and Ling. Ving was always super cool with me. In exchange for answers (he was super smart) I would hang out with him and be his friend and stuff. After I cheated off of him and studied with him though, I did get to be his friend and we got very close.

His sister, Ling, was always uptight about school and she made sure to study, she got stressed about a B, etc. One day I was hanging out with Ving, and we started talking about names. He went off on this huge rant about how he hated his, and how he wanted to change it to something more Asian-American, like Lee. I told him that the Courthouse downtown had a form that you could fill to legally change it. He told me: "I always give you answers. If you could just drive me down to the courthouse this one time, I will never forget you. I just hate this god-forsaken Chinese name and I want to get rid of it forever."

He seemed pretty adamant about it, so I decided the best decision would be to take him. We walked out to my car, and right as I put the keys in the ignition Ling came running and tapped on the car door like a madman. I rolled it down and she started freaking out about how Ving's name had been passed down through generations and generations, but Ving didn't care. He just wanted to go down to the Courthouse and get it over with.

Ling figured that coming with would be the best idea, so if anything else came up that she would be needed for, she would be there for Ving. Honestly, I felt stuck in the middle of a family feud, so I just took her along. When we got to the Courthouse, Ving confidently walked up to the front desk and asked the receptionist if he could change his name. She gave him a little packet of paper and told him to sit down. Ling and I waited patiently while Ving filled out his info. I was watching him fill it out and I noticed he really did want to change his name to Lee.

Before he finished, though, he started tearing up. He told me he couldn't change his name. He asked the lady at the front that he couldn't do it, and she told him he would need twenty dollars to cancel the request. Ling was so relieved and happy that he changed his mind, she dug through her purse, found the money, and started to hand it to the receptionist.

It was at this moment that the most stereotypical Asian man burst through the doors. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a visor, American flag shorts, flip flops, everything. This

Back in April, me and the young men &a women of my family helped move my grandparents out their house, a house they had lived in for almost 45 years, into a small, 1-bedroom add-on to my uncles land.

Now, my grandpa had been a Baptist pastor for 47 years (now retired) and he was always quick on wit.

Well, as we were moving out the garage. My brother noticed something glued to the ground by some kind of resin. A piece of paper, looked almost 30 years old. We found out it was a sermon that my grandpa had preached way, way back in the day. And someone had spilled some kind of oil and that had gotten stuck to it and preserved it over the years. We brought my very frail grandpa out into the garage and told him what it was. He stared at it for about 5 seconds and said "Well, I guess that's one of my sermons that stuck!"