One Pocket Puns

Johnny - 'Someone else's trousers on Miss.'

I told her "right, butt... Do they have a left one?"

Actually occurrence, figured you would enjoy.

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

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

Wife: Hey, I came up with an idea. Bed sheets that have one big pocket at the bottom to tuck your legs into so they never get cold. I'll call them... "Feeted" Sheets.

Me: wiping tear from eye Perfection.

So a frog walks into a bank, and up to one of the tellers, a young woman by the name of Patricia Wakk. He says to her, he says, “Miss Wakk, my name is Kermit Jagger, son of Mick Jagger, and I’d like to take out a loan. I make porcelain elephants,” he says, pulling one out from his pocket, “and I’d like to open a store down on Main Street selling them. I just need a few thousand dollars to buy the shop. Can you help me out?”

Now, Patricia doesn’t normally deal in small business loans, so she’s unsure on the proper protocol involved, so she calls over her manager and explains the situation to him, explaining Kermit’s family ties and showing him the elephant, to which her manager replies,

“It’s a knick-nack, Patty Wakk, give the frog a loan! His old man’s a rolling stone.”

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

Hot pockets.

I made this one up when I was in freshman year of high school 2008, all my friends and family at the time can confirm.

I make fries at Wendy's and I always keep a pen in my pocket, well coworker A needs a pen, so coworker B asks if anyone has one. I say sure, you can use mine. Coworker B says "why do you have a pen? Why would you even need one over there?" I reply with "Well how else am I supposed to make my signature fries?" Both of them groaned.

Hello everyone. Today, a 72-year-old man named Mike came into my office. Mike blessed me with many gifts, a sampling of which I would like to share with you all here.

First, Mike asked how I was. I said "good, how are you?" Mike: I had a dream last night I was a muffler. And when I woke up it scared me because I was exhausted.

Mike also has an ex wife. "My Ex wife was so ugly her mom made her go trick or treating by telephone so she didn’t scare the other children."

Not just one ex wife, Mike has two ex wives. "My ex wife was so ugly I used to take her to work with me so I didn’t have to kiss her goodbye"

Mike does a lot of work for various charities. "I asked the lady at a restaurant if I could post my flyer for an event in the window. She said 'that depends, are you a non-profit?' I said 'lady I've got two ex wives, I haven't had profit in 30 years!'"

Those darn ex wives. "I’m so poor a pick pocket tried to rob me the other day and all he got was practice."

Mike actually came to my office to tell me about a basketball camp he's putting on next week. He's been playing basketball for 64 years. "I was a great athlete in high school. I was voted most valuable player by all the cheerleaders."

There was one girl though who got away. "There was a girl who lived down the street and I used to call her all the time and say 'Sarah, can I come over?' and she'd say no. So one day she called & said “Mike, come over, nobody's home.” So I went to her house and she was right, there wasn’t anybody there."

That girl may be why he didn't play baseball. "I played football, basketball and track. Someone asked me 'Mike, why didn't you play baseball?' I said 'because I was already so good at striking out!'"

Anyways, Mike went on to have a lengthy career in TV and radio, until he didn't. "I had to quit my job for medical reasons. My boss said I made her sick."

Thank you for your time.

My Dad was the worst. And by that, I mean the best. He had a Dad Joke for everything.

I accidently left my wallet in my pants and they went through the wash?

"Don't you know it's illegal to launder money?" He would crack.

We would drive by the cemetery and he would always remark.

"That place is so popular, people are dying to get in"

Many groans were had.

I would ask him, "Dad, where do you get all these awful jokes?" and he looked square in the eye and said.

"Son, on the day you were born - your Grandfather - my father gave me a book. '1001 Dad Jokes' and that where I get them from"

And life continued. Any opportunity to crack wise he would take it. Even when I moved out and got my own place it didn't stop. I had my Dad over to help me repaint the walls from cream to white.

"Boy" He whistled. "This wall sure pales in comparison to that one"

My eyes rolled and he just shrugged. "It's the book!"

He couldn't even help himself at my wedding and broke out a Dad Joke during the toast.

"If this is the toast, where are the eggs?"

"Sorry son, it's the book!" He said with a devilish grin.

So months pass and my wife is in labor at the hospital with our first child. I'm sitting in the waiting room with my dad for support. Suddenly, a nurse comes out beaming with glee.

"Congratulations, sir! It's a girl!"

Me and my dad jump up and whoop for joy, hugging. I can't wait to go in and see my wife and child.

"Wait son" My dad says and pulls a little book out of his jacket pocket. "This is for you"

I look at the little book and sure enough, it's "1001 Dad Jokes"

I tear up instantly.

"I...I.." I stammer.."I'm touched.."

My dad gets the world's biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hi touched...." He pauses for effect.

"I'm Dad"

As a Boy Scout, we would camp a lot and go on hikes.

One night, we had to do a night hike, alone, for a merit badge. I had left the campsite about an hour earlier and a terrible storm rolled in. The sky opened up and the ground was quickly saturated. I tried to continue my hike for another few minutes, but it got cold and I was chilled and soaked to the bone, so I decided to try to head back to camp.

Lightning was starting to crackle above me, so I thought I should try to take a shortcut to make my hike back quicker. I pulled out my compass and found my direction, but the rain made it impossible to see more than five feet in front of me.

I was looking down at my compass, not paying any attention to where I was going, and suddenly felt weightless. The feeling didn't last long as I thumped down on slippery earth a second later.

I had fallen onto a ledge on the side of a rather steep cliff, the bottom of which was at least fifty feet down.

I sat there, contemplating on how to get back up this cliff as water rolled over the edge ten feet above me. There was nothing to grab onto to pull myself up. I was stuck there.

After a few minutes, I noticed the little ledge I was standing on was slowly getting smaller. The water was coming down so hard it was eroding the tiny bit of safety I had.

I dug through my pockets, thinking maybe I had something, anything, to help me out of my precarious situation. All I had was my compass, a cough drop, and a match. I was screwed.

So, I sat there, watching the edge of the ledge I was on get closer and closer to my feet, when suddenly I felt something pushing on my back.

I turned slightly and saw a wooden box sticking out of the cliff behind me. It was working its way out of the side, the rain surely helping it along. I tried to move away from it, but the ledge wasn't very wide and the box kept coming out, pushing me farther to the weak and failing edge.

As more of the box came out, to my horror, I realized it was a coffin! I had no idea how old it was, but it looked rather rotten. All I could think of was being pushed off this ledge, and the rotten coffin breaking and dropping a skeleton onto my broken and battered body at the bottom.

The coffin crept closer, my foot began to slip. I grabbed onto a root that was sticking out of the cliffside and dug in my pocket once more.

I hurriedly tore the wrapper off the cough drop and stuck it in my mouth. It stopped the coffin.

This joke has been told to me

I set my items on the counter, and the cashier starts ringing them up one after another while I wait patiently. I notice the guy in line behind me a few people still acting a little weird, antsy is how I would describe it.

Anyways, the cashier snaps me out of my thoughts by telling me my total and as I go to reach for my wallet, I see the guy dashing out the door.... as in transfixed on his fleeing image, my hand reaches my pocket and I realize he's stolen my wallet!

I make a mad dash for him, chasing him down in the middle of the parking lot. He reaches his vehicle at the other end and as he hops in, I catch up to him and I'm able to grab his leg. I start pulling his leg and pulling his leg harder and harder trying to get him out.

I keep pulling his leg very similarly to how I've been pulling your leg for the last minute.

The sun shone into my office through the lowered blinds all clumsy like, fumbling through the gaps between the venetian slats like a drunk fishing for loose change in his pockets; trying to see if he has money enough for one last drink or maybe the bus ride home.

The dame looked me up and down, clearly disappointed by what sat in front of her. I didn’t blame her. Three days of salt and pepper stubble clung to my my crude boxer’s jaw and the bags under my eyes were so big half the bums downtown could sleep in there and not even know anyone else was with 'em. That was ok. This broad wasn’t hiring me for my looks and I wasn’t looking to her for approval. We both knew what brought her in here, it was the name on the door.

Max Dad P.I. - that’s me. Private Investigator’s sure not the profession my mother would have picked out for me, but it keeps me in whisky and it keeps a roof over my head and that’ll do for now. The dame parted those cherry red lips of hers as she took another pull on that just-lit cigarette and nervously stubbed it out in the ashtray. My eyebrows knit together slightly. I hate seeing things go to waste.

“So as I was saying, Mr Dad,” she began.

“Please, call me Max”

“Alright, Max… well, as I was saying, my bag is missing. Stolen, I think. I urgently need it back. Shall I describe it to you?”

“No that’s alright miss. You got nothing to worry about,” I replied, sliding a bottle out of the desk drawer and pouring a big slug of scotch into to my morning coffee, “I’m sure it’ll be a brief case.”

A Retiree's Last Trip to Sam's Club

Yesterday I was at Sam's Club, buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Owen , the Wonder Dog and was in the check-out line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.

What did she think I had an elephant?

So because I'm retired and have little to do, on impulse, I told her that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn't, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.

I told her that it was essentially a Perfect Diet and that the way that it works is, to load your pants pockets with Purina Nuggets and simply eat one or two handfuls every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete, (certified), so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)

Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care,because the dog food poisoned me.

I told her no, I had stopped to pee on a fire hydrant and a car hit me.

I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard. Sam's Club won't let me shop there anymore. Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the world to think of crazy things to say.

Last week a wheel broke off my office chair and I kept it because I'm never one to pass on the chance for prop humor.

On Tuesday I got invited out with two of my friends to go grab a drink after work, I was told their girlfriends would be there too.

I pocketed my wheel and brought it with me to the bar, after a while when the couples started getting into their own chit chat I silently placed the wheel on the bar.

My friend asked me why there was a wheel on the bar and I told him "Oh, I'm just solidifying my spot as the fifth wheel."

I laughed and then died a little on the inside.

This happened a few weeks ago. I had a little extra time at lunch one day so I decided to stop at a furniture store since we've been looking at getting a new couch.

I'm leisurely walking around the store browsing with my hands in my pockets when I see an elderly couple being shown around by the salesman. The old gentleman sees me and gets a smirk. He wobbles over too me, away from his wife and the salesman, leans in so only I can hear and, out of the blue, says:

"He who has his hands in his pockets has more on the ball than at first it would seem."

He smiles, says nothing else, and wobbles back. That put a smile on my face and had me laughing the rest of the day.

My dad's favorite joke of all time (there are many variations, and of course, even more extended versions):

These three guys went to South America to explore the rain forest. The guide was leading them through explaining the different plants and animals. After awhile they started to hear this really loud sound.

whoosh

whoosh

whoosh

The men, kind of scared, asked the guide what the noise was.

"What the hell is that noise?"

"Oh, that's just the Foo bird."

"The Foo bird?"

"Yes, it's a giant bird, and the locals believe that if it poops on you, wiping it off will cause instant death."

"That's silly."

"Well, that's what the locals say."

The noise gets louder and closer.

WHOOSH

WHOOSH

WHOOSH

The men look up in the sky and see a glimpse of the Foo bird.

"It's huge!"

Suddenly...

SPLAT

All four of the men are covered with bird shit. The guide pulls a cloth out of his pocket and wipes the shit off of his face. He drops dead.

The first of the three men says, "that's got to be a coincidence."

He wipes the shit off, and drops dead.

The second guy nervously says, "it can't be true"

He wipes it off and drops dead.

The third guy doesn't wipe it off. He was found a few days later, and went home, refusing to be cleaned.

A few years pass, his life has been destroyed due to being covered in shit. His wife left him, his friends won't come near him, he can't find a job... One day, he's in the bathroom shaving around the shit.

"It's been years, most of it has flaked off, it's probably fine to wipe it off now."

He hesitates, but eventually grabs a towel, wets it down, and takes a deep breath.

He wipes the shit off, looks up into the mirror smiling, then drops dead.

The moral of the story is:

If the Foo shits, wear it.

Inspired by this post

I ordered 100 of these and keep one in my pocket at all times now: http://i.imgur.com/fDFtpL5.jpg

Also, if you're in the Washington DC area, I'd be happy to spread the love. Happy dadjoking!

I was working the register (took a pity shift in the front end department) when I ran out of pennies. I paged my boss to come over and get me change.

Boss: Look, you have a penny on your POS, and I have one in my pocket here.

Me: That may not last very long, can I still get change?

Customer: C'mon man, cut the guy a break. He's just putting in his 2 cents on the situation.

His daughter groaned.

Grandpa: Pulls out all of the contents of his pocket and stands in a crowd staring at it... just waiting for the sucker who asks what he's doing.

When someone finally notices, sometimes after minutes of waiting, he says "They say I lost my marbles, but I found one"

Sure enough, he'll have a marble in his hand. He always carries a marble so he can make this joke.

pulls a peanut from his pocket, shells it, holds it up for viewing

"You see this?"

eats it

"No one will ever see that again."

My Dad has thrown me some pretty good/bad dad jokes in his time... but yesterday he sat me down on the couch and started telling me about a frog who couldn't get a loan from the bank. He looked really concerned and it went something like this...

"... so this frog really just wants a loan, and decides to try one last time. He walks up to the teller, a Mrs Patricia Wak. P.W: Hello sir what can I do for you? F: I'm just after a $30,000 loan. Can you help P.W: Wow, that's a really large loan. What collateral do you have? F: Just this little toy elephant (pulls out from pocket) P.W: I'm afraid that's not going to secure the loan, sir. Do you have anything else? F: No P.W: Well them I'm afraid we can't help you

And the frog starts to well up and cry, he starts howling inconsolably and is an absolute mess F: You don't understand! I need this loan! Please, my name is Froggy Jagger. I come from a long line of Jaggers, my father Mick is good for the money now please help me! P.W: I'm sorry but a little toy elephant is never going to secure you... F: I want to see a manager!!

So Patricia Wak goes and gets her manager, and the frog tells the man about his need for a $30,000 loan. The manager agrees and pulls Patricia aside to explain why...

P.W: I don't understand this guy, what's the deal with the little elephant? M: It's a knick-knack, Patty Wak! Give the frog a loan! His old man's a rolling stone!

Dad then proceeded to slap his knee and laugh wildly while I stood up and walked away.

(I think this joke makes a lot more sense if you're an Australian...)

He's a republican, I'm a democrat and we often joke about it too each other. Yesterday he laid this one on me.

Dad: It's so cold here, do you know what I saw? It was amazing.

Me: What?

Dad: I saw a Democrat with his hands in his own pockets.

I can tell how many pockets I have without one.