Quick One Line Puns

...right in front of a house where there’s a huge party going on. He walks in and notices that the party is somewhat divided. There’s a clear distinction between the people waiting for the bathroom and the people queued up for drinks, etc.

Considering the urgency of the bathroom queue, he walks over to the drinks table and asks everyone there if they wouldn’t mind helping him push his car to get it started. They agree but even with the full might of several people, the car doesn’t budge. He thanks them for trying and they all head back inside.

A little while later, the doorbell rings. The man sees the host open the door to the largest pizza guy he’s ever seen. The behemoth is holding 15 pizzas with one hand, a pallet of buffalo wings with the other, with a keg strapped to each shoulder. The man jumps up and asks the pizza guy for his help pushing the car. He agrees and they head to the street.

With barely one touch of a pinky on one hand, the car lurches forward and starts right up. The man drives off, waving behind him and yelling a quick, “Thank you.”

As he catches sight of the party fading into the distance, he says to himself...

“Thank goodness for the delivery because that punch line sure is weak.”

Back a few decades, I was working in a program with a local college in the Middle East.

The name of the program for ExPats has the clever acronym of "IDEA" (hey, I said it was clever); which stands for "Inter-Departmental Educational Adjunct". It's interdepartmental because my particular specialty not only covers field geology but also paleontology and a bit of archeology thrown in for good measure. Everyone hopes to have a good IDEA...

ahem...

Well, we saddle up and head for the Dune Sea out in the west of the country, where the Precambrian, Cambrian, Silurian, Cretaceous, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and Holocene crop out and access is relatively easy and non-injurious.

Well, we caravan out, some 30 Land Cruisers, Nissan patrol, and the odd Mitsubishi Galloper strong. We all get our maps, compasses and split up into 5 or 6 special interest groups ("SIG's"); where each IDEA has his own GPS and LIDAR laser ranging apparatus. Reason being, that there are very few benchmarks out in the desert, and even those are constantly at the mercy of the shifting and ever-blowing sands.

Since we're split into groups and at any one time, ranging up to and including some 50 km2, when a real find is located, a device called the "DIME" (Digital-Interface Monitor Encoder) is attached and programmed into the GPS for location later; it is a digital sort of low-frequency transponder, developed from technology used by offshore drillers and jacket setters where benchmarks are even more transitory.

The way it works is rather simple. When something is to be marked for later retrieval, a series of wooden posts are pounded in a triangular manner around the find and the DIME is set, programmed with the GPS and attached to one or more of the posts.

That's the theory, at least.

Everything works well, especially all the hardened electronics and computer gizmos, but attaching the DIME to the stakes is the real problem. It can't be nailed, screwed or fastened with any sort of metal contrivance as that farkles the magnetic field and causes all sorts of goofy spurious signals. Zip ties don't last long in the heat and duct tape is right out. Many sites have been lost to the shifting sands this way.

Velcro doesn't work too well, as the sand fills the hooks of the receiving piece of velcro and soon renders it useless. String or fishing line work, but that's temporary (they melt). Glue or mastic are out as these are supposed to be temporary. Even plastic sleeves don't work due to the heat out

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!)

Went to get tickets from the office, waited in line for a while but got sorted.

Had to rent a limo, another line in their office but got one pretty quick.

Remembered I needed flowers, ran to the local florist, this time there was a massive line but they looked after me.

Eventually we got to Prom. Future Wife asks me to get her some punch.

I go to the refreshments table

Theres no punchline.

Last week I was flying home from a business trip out of Dallas/Ft. Worth. I'm in line waiting to board and in front of me is a vulture. He's dragging a squirrel carcass behind him in one hand and a dead possum in the other. The line is moving pretty quick until the vulture gets to the ramp and winds up in an argument with the guy scanning tickets. The attendant at the gate says to the vulture, "sir, you are only permitted one piece of carrion."

There are three classes of cheerios, the lower class (plain ol' cheerios), the middle class cheerios (frosted), and the elite class (honey nut). One soggy morning in Seattle, a plain cheerio awoke in his single room apartment. He looked out at the still sleepy city, blanketed in a mist of rain. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes on, this would be the day. He stood propped against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. "God I have got to stop this habit." He thought to himself. Glancing back and forth at the bustle of cheerios, he saw her. She looked about 25, devastatingly gorgeous, and he could smell the honey from where he stood. "Excuse me ma'am," his voice quivered, "I - I think you might be the most beautiful cheerio I have ever seen." She smiled and her otherwise golden brown face grew red. " This is a long shot, but will you marry me?' She was obviously caught off guard by this, but her red lips formed the word, "Yes." They raced through the morning mist of the city, and arrived at her fathers house. The cheerio bent down in front of her father. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing in marrying your daughter" "No! You are a regular cheerio and my daughter needs a high quality honey nut" he snapped. "But sir." "No means no damnit!" "Sir this is very unrea-" "You come back a honey nut and you'll have my blessing, my daughter is not about to marry a low life like you." The cheerio sprinted home, tears streaming down his face. He fumbled against the lock and sprawled out on his bed. When he awoke it was early, his sheets had a dark silhouette from his wet jacket. He sat up and lit a cigarette. "Damn." he sighed to himself. Walking in front of his mirror, he noticed something different. His body was frosted! He had become a frosted cheerio! He darted out the door without shoes, reaching the honey nut household in no time at all. He banged on the door, and the beauty's father answered. "Sir I am a changed cheerio! I'm frosted!" he exclaimed. Her father had a stern look on his face. "You think you are any better? The dirt on my boots are worth more than you." he hissed. The old honey nut slammed the door on the young frosted. He heard the deadbolt click. The newly frosted cheerio didn't take the same way home. He stood on the edge of a bridge, feeling the cool autumn wind on his sugar coated skin. Was he really going to go through with this? Was it worth it? No he was a frosted cheerio now. He couldn't get the girl, but he was a changed cheerio. He

I'm a dad, and I told my dad this, so I think it counts. It got a lot of groans, so I think it's great, if a bit long.

I once lived near a small, simple town where there lived named Hugh.

Hugh was a very smart man stricken with a series of personal tragedies earlier in his life. As a result, he moved to this small town and took a job in his local florist shop, relaxing the days away arranging flowers and trying not to think of times past. Hugh grew to love working there.

One day, a disaster struck the town. A small, single engine airplane crashed a block from Hugh's shop, killing those on the plane and setting fire to several buildings, both occupied and empty.

The impact ruptured a gas line, which ultimately exploded, creating a shock wave that caused part of the building next to the florist shop to collapse and trap several of Hugh's customers and co-workers inside. The situation was desperate, as the shop would be burned to the ground at any moment.

Acting quickly, Hugh located the gas main, shutting it down. Next, Hugh noticed a water storage tank nearby, and opened a release valve that suffocated the fire before it reached his beloved shop.

With the fire out, and the florist shop saved along with those trapped inside, Hugh was a hero. The town presented him with a plaque in honor of his courageous deeds. On this plaque was a detailed etching of a bear, and Hugh was touched because he loved bears. But it was the words etched beneath that truly touched him.

"Only Hugh could prevent florist fires."

Imagine a Maine accent, as a kid on a farm in 1924.

> As kids, they walked up to their mother and ask
"Mom, Is pig's sold?"
Their mother yells at them to correct their grammar.
"PIGS ARE SOLD!"

Commence giggling and running away as their mother realizes what they tricked her into saying.

(The joke is to say the mothers line quickly and drop the "D" like 'ole time Mainers do)
I'll never forget this joke. It's the only one he ever told me.

What was funny in the 1920's is completely different I guess.

I was at the airport waiting for my flight home the other night when over the P.A they asked everyone from flight DJ-478 to Sydney to make their way to the service desk, so myself and my fellow passengers make our way over to the desk, where the very embarrassed and obviously distressed desk worker informs us that our flight has been cancelled, and the next one isn't till the morning, she then tells us that the airport will happily put us up in the 5 star hotel around the corner, and have us dropped back at the airport at 7am the following morning. Most the people there accepted this, after the desk lady told us it was for our personal safety and that there wasn't a lot more they could do, except this one particular gentleman, who storms over to the desk, and tells the woman that he needed to be in sydney tonight, and demands a flight be made available. (It's like 9:30 by this point, surely it could wait till the morning?). After again apologizing to the man, she tells him that won't be possible, and she sends us all on our way to the shuttle bus, with our bags already on there, and off we go to the hotel. The entire bus trip this guy carried on whinging and swearing, getting angrier and angrier by the second. We get to the hotel, and he's about 30 people behind the front of the queue to check in, and he gets impatient with the time it's taking, and again, storms his way up the line, past me (I was at the front), walks over to the desk, slams his fist down and says to the woman behind the desk "I want the biggest room you have, I want it in the next 30 seconds or so help me god, you aren't gonna like what happens", the woman looked up at him and said "Sir, the airport has paid for the rooms we already have organized, if you'll take your place back in line, we'll be with you as soon as we can", the guy got really angry about being asked to move back to his spot, he threw his bag down, and yelled at the woman, "Fuck this, call me a taxi, right fucking now, I'll find somewhere else to stay", that's when i decided to step in.

I said. "Oh okay then, you're a taxi".

He took his place back in line pretty quick.