Outside The Lines Puns

Then the owner came out giving free burgers and hotdogs to everybody there.

It was the best barber queue ever!

Guess you could call it a punchline.

People are dying to get in there

They're waiting for a big scoop.

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

I was arrested for speaking out of line. I was protesting against the injustices facing our community, the harsh taxes and oppressions that have faced my community for years. The cruel and unusual punishments especially. Our town is small and insular, so outside influence is heavily resisted by our small town government, but despite that, my friends and I have pushed on, resisting our mistreatment and misery. But as you know, I was arrested. Surprisingly, I wasn't jailed or executed. I was beaten. They had us in a row, lines up facing our tormentors. The would-be executioners merely thrust their fists upon us. It was brutal. While there, I though to myself, "Huh, I guess this is the punchline."

Some of them were pretty strange: only he could understand them and explaining the 'pun' to somebody else would take like half an hour. Anyway-

He said, "So I'll go first?"

I said sure.

I think he took "pun-a-thon" a bit too literally - he took out a marker and drew a point, and then he kept drawing this straight line (he's good at drawing straight lines) while taking how many ever steps back. I for one was concerned, because first off I didn't know how long I'd have to stick around for this, and second of all, I didn't know if I could clean the mess he'd inevitably leave behind.

He kept drawing this line! We stepped out of my living room, then my apartment which was on ground-level, and he kept drawing it. He drew his line all the way through the corridor, up until the entrance to the building, and when I kept asking him if he's done yet, he didn't say a word. I had to keep subtly reassuring security and everyone who was staring at my friend hunched over like that robot from Wall-E.

He stepped out of the building and kept on drawing his line. At this point I was trying to guess what the hell is the outcome. I kept screaming punchlines at him like "is this where you draw the line?", "are you going to punch me after this so this is a punchline?" and shit like that. There were people following us and two were taking videos and it was really fucking uncomfortable.

Right after he was outside the building and the premises, he started to draw this stunning drawing of the building right on the pavement. It was almost magical, as if he had been commissioned to make an ad for my place but for a million bucks. At this point the people who were following us didn't even get pissed off because they were so engrossed in his drawing. I was surprised the marker kept going on.

After about 20 minutes - he was a real quick draw (no pun intended) - he stood up and a crowd of two dozen clapped and cheered for him.

I told him, "Dude that looks fucking amazing, but I thought we were in a pun-a-thon. Why such a long set-up?"

He replied, "Yeah it was pretty drawn out."

(for more drawn-out jokes like this, visit r/feghoot!)

Did I just break the rules by being racist?

I hope nobody says I just colored outside the lines. Wait, did she say colored? But I guess everyone knows my checkered past.

Wife says she's going to go finish cutting the grass (I am still recovering from shoulder surgery) and I told her "don't forget outside the fence."

To which she responded "nope. That's where I draw the line...."

So, of course, I responded "oh yeah? Well do ya know where I draw the line??"

"Hmm..."

"On paper!"

At which point she rolled her eyes and walked out to the garage...

So every night for the past almost 6 years I sing her the Sunshine Song

You know, "you are my Sunshine, my only sunshine."

And after a few years I got tired of it and would start songs from the nightmare before Christmas (because I'm a big elfman nerd) and Part of your world (because I'm completely obsessed with singing out of key chick verses and the little mermaid is dope af) but she would SCREAM anytime I started anything that wasn't the Sunshine song, I love this, so I go on for a couple bars while she's screaming then calm her down and sing the right song. To be fair, she likes the I'm On The Outside by boingo, so I belt that too. Although it's only acceptable in the car.

Now here I want to add that in the description of the event I will place a * where she interrupts me and the words immediately after that * will be her words.

Ok, so she's in bed just now and I said What song do you want me to sing?

Obvs sunshine dude.

So I start with the "look at this stuff, isn't it neat?"

And she's not screaming, she has a smile on her face so my mind is like "did she become ok with this, can I finally sing a different song than sunshine and eponas song?" So I keep going thinking that I finally won.

I get to the line, "Fliiping your fins, you won't get too **fart!"

I'm fucking dead this kid played me like a fiddle.

Someone call 911 I'm ded

For all of my life, my brain has played a soundtrack. At all times, in all places, I hear music going through my head, from the moment I awaken in the morning until I go to sleep at night. I can only shut it off by listening to other music, watching a movie, etc. but it soon starts up again once the outside source of stimulus is removed.

Yesterday I was travelling. When I visited the restroom prior to boarding my flight, the the music in my head suddenly switched tracks from "I've Been Everywhere Man" (that got really old after the first hour. Oy!) to "Africa" by Toto. "That's odd", I thought to myself, "the music in my head usually doesn't switch tracks unless something has changed around me." I finished my business, cleaned up, stood up, and turned around to flush.

Then I saw it. There, emblazoned on the porcelain, was the word "TOTO". The manufacturer of the toilet. "Nice job, brain, funny, hah-hah," I thought to myself.

The song in my head came to an abrupt halt. Silence, for just one moment. Blessed silence. Rare for me. Then I realized. My brain was giving me time to digest the previous joke. Waiting for me to think I'd arrived at the punch line. Pausing for a beat before it delivered the next one. "Africa" started over again, telling me exactly why the DJ deciding songs in my head had picked this exact moment, this exquisite situation, this exact set of circumstances to deliver the internal Dad Joke of the year:

"Doodoo doo-doo doodoo do dooooooooo...."

My dad has this habit of pretending he didn't hear what you said, and then "repeating" it. Like if I said I was going to see an art show, he'll say, "You're going to a FART show? I had no idea you'd have any interest in that!" Lots of jokes along those lines, amongst others.

When I was younger I would laugh because he was kinda funny, and also to make him happy, but as I've gotten older I laugh not JUST because he's funny (in a corny way) but because the fact he still makes these jokes makes me so happy and really warms my heart. My mom is physically disabled, my dad has a bunch of health issues, we've all suffered terribly at times because of all this illness. And no matter how bad it gets, my dad is always there trying his hardest to put a smile on other people's faces and to lighten the mood a bit with his jokes. I've always been the type of girl to mope and be depressed when things are hard, but as I've gotten older I've tried to be more like my old man because I think it's something really special and admirable and selfless about stepping outside of your own negativity to give others something to laugh at or smile about. My dad is such a fuckin hero, I love him so much, and I can't imagine how unbearable this world would seem at times without him trying to make us all laugh.

So to all you dads telling your corny dad jokes, don't ever stop. Your kids and wife might groan or roll their eyes, but inside they love their corny old man and appreciate the goofy puns and fart jokes you tell!

I was an ER tech in a fairly busy inner city hospital for a few years. On one unusually slow night, around 3am, I called up to labor and delivery from an outside line. The conversation went like this:

"Labor and Delivery Nancy speaking"

"Hi I have an unusual problem and I am hoping you can help me."

"OK what can I do for you?"

"Well a couple weeks ago my wife and I had a baby boy who was born with an extremely rare condition. You see, he was born without eyelids."

"Oh my goodness!"

"Yes. Well at your hospital there they tried a new experimental treatment. They used the foreskin from his circumcision to create eyelids for him. Have you heard about this procedure?"

"OH MY GOD! No! I haven't!"

"Well everything was going great and he seemed to be healing well but when he woke up this morning, he looked a little cockeyed..."

"..........."

"COCKEYED!"

<click>

For as long as I can remember, my dad would go into the bathroom and drop a real stinky shit, then wait outside the bathroom until my mom wanders by at which time he would say something along the lines of "Goddamn Carol! Light a match in there next time! What crawled up your ass and died?!". My mom always would look mortified and defend herself as if she actually did it. Even after countless years of seeing him pull the same routine over and over again it's still hilarious.

I'm visiting my parents from out of town and we all had gone outside to see the super moon and the meteor shower.

My dad waited until I said something along the lines of "oh wow look at the super moon."

That's when it started. He began singing "Super moon, super moon, it's super moonay" to the tune of "super freak." My mom, not to be outdone, joined in.

I'm clearly not having it so after seeing the super moon I go back inside. They follow me inside and I trip over their dog Tink. Annoyed I said, "Stupid Tink" setting off a new chorus of Super Tink.

Today at work, an older woman I work with was talking to me, and called me by my name. Now, her thing is that she comes up with nicknames for everyone that works there. So I tell her, "No, you can't call me by my name, my nickname is Josheroon. You have to be consistent." Her response was something along the lines of "Well you never gave me a nickname that sticks!"

Five minutes pass as I go back to ringing up customers. When the store gets quiet and I have a little free time, I take a piece of tape and write NICKNAME in Sharpie. Run outside, go up to her and stick it proudly on her arm. "Now you have a nickname that sticks!"

Watching her face turn from confusion to slight laughter, and my other co-worker shaking his head caused me to burst out in laughter harder than I have at that job in a long time.

Once upon a time in the 80’s, the religious supreme ruler of a middle eastern country fled outside military forces seeking to strip him of his power using whatever means necessary. Fearing for his life, he was secretly smuggled into the US where he reluctantly shaved his beard and attempted to blend in.

He successfully went native and got an apartment, and soon realized he needed a job to pay for food and rent. He didn't want to do any sort of manual labor or serve others, as he craved comfortable control. He eventually became a toll booth operator, where he enjoyed sitting in his high chair, making people pay him so that he would grant them passage. Over time he grew bold and began to use his own judgment on what vehicles would pay him for his blessing to cross.

One day, two semi-tractor trailer beverage trucks were in his line, a Pepsi truck in front, and a Coke truck behind. The Pepsi truck pulled up and he said "Pepsi truck, you may pass for free." The Pepsi truck driver happily accepted, and over his CB radio told the Coke truck driver “This guy just let me through for free!”. When the Coke truck pulled up, hoping to also pass for free, the toll booth dictator said "Coke truck, you will pay me 100 of your American dollars."

The Coke truck driver was livid, and said "You let that Pepsi truck pass for free! You want me to pay 100 dollars?! That’s outrageous! I am going to report this! What is your name?!" Our toll booth operator proudly replied "Ayatollah Cokemainly."

I was in geology lab trying to make a streak line, I asked: how do you do the streaking? Someone replied: outside, naked.