Satisfies Puns

A microsoftie.

He built another one.

The mortician asked the deceased’s wife how she would like the body dressed. He points out the man looks good in the black suit he’s already wearing. The widow however said she thought her husband always looked his best in blue, and she would really like him in a blue suit. She then hands the mortician a blank cheque and says “I don’t care how much it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing.” The woman returns the next day for the wake. To her delight she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe. Remarkably, the suit fit him perfectly. She says to the mortician, “whatever this costs I’m very satisfied, you did an excellent job and I’m incredibly grateful. How much did you spend?” To her astonishment the mortician presents her with her blank cheque, and he says “there’s no charge.” Shocked she replies “no really, I feel like i must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit.” “Honestly ma’am”, the mortician says, “it costs nothing, you see a diseased gentleman about your husbands size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday. He was wearing an attractive blue suit. So I asked his wife if she minded if her husband went to the grave wearing black. She had said it made no difference so long as he looked nice. So from that point on it was really just a matter of switching the heads.”

Because they always come full circle

Except if he is a cannibal.

It was a total rip-off

It hit the Spot.

They want to achieve hypertrophy.

With just the tip

They're all engraved.

(I told this to my five year old this morning and got a very satisfying groan.)

Mallnourished

cause it’s always flipping out.

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

She really served a porpoise.

I had no idea what to get them. But after a long brainstorming I finally decided to get the a new fridge.

It's was actually so satisfying to see their faces lit up as they opened it.

The bartender replies, "I'm sorry, but you're a rope. I can't serve you, and I'm not even sure how I could. Please leave."

A short time later, the rope comes back into the bar and asks for a beer.

The bartender, a bit annoyed at the situation, says, "Look, I told you I can't serve you. Just go away."

A few hours later, the rope comes back in again.

The bartender is getting mad now. "Look, I told you twice that I can't serve alcohol to a rope! Now get out and STAY OUT!"

Dejectedly, the rope leaves the bar and sits at the curb until a gentleman passes by. Suddenly, the piece of rope has an idea.

"Excuse me", says the rope, "but could you do me a favor?"

"Um... me?" says the puzzled gentleman. "Uh... I guess so..."

"Great! I just need you to tie a big ol' knot right in my middle."

"Well," says the gentleman. "I just so happens I was a former Eagle Scout. Here you go," and ties a perfect knot in the rope. "Will that be all?"

The rope pauses for a second and says, "Actually, could you pull apart my ends and unravel them for a bit?"

The gentleman obliges and goes on his merry way. The piece of rope, satisfied at its new appearance, heads back into the bar.

Furious, the bartender shouts, "HEY! Aren't you that same piece of rope I kicked out three times already?!?"

"No, I'm a frayed knot."

He would be a content creator!

A tiny part of me says no

Because he delivered it funnily enough!

Father-in-law Text: You left your sunglasses on the dining room table. Me: That was not very BRIGHT!

So I don't have a joke, I just wanted to share that my 6 year old daughter is completely on board with my dad jokes all of a sudden and it's fucking awesome.

This is the new normal interaction with my daughter: -she throws her stuffed bear on bean bag. -I sit on top of said bear on bag containing beans. -she screams nooooooooo! Don't! -I get up and say "he doesn't look beary hurt to me, he looks fine."

And this here's the great part, SHE says "get it?....beary!" And she then goes on to explode laughing and repeating "beary!" It's basically the opposite of what my wife's reaction is everytime I make a joke.

I know it won't last long, but shit is it sweet.

After a short time, he realizes he is hopelessly lost. He gets hungry, but with no knowledge of a way to gain food, he decides to resort to cannablism. He begins to eat his arm, but soon finds he is satisfied and no longer hungry. This idiot in the woods was full of himself.

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.)

“This is sodly satisfying..”

So they can tweet.

(I hit my family with this one today. Its probably been done before but it was so satisfying hearing everyone groan.)

I work in the investigations section of a military police department, and aside from our normal office hours, we have 24hr shifts that cycle through the office, so that there's an investigator present and on-duty 24/7/365.

My co-worker was wrapping up some paperwork this morning, and coming off of his 24 hr shift, and almost dead to the world. At the time, a pair of other investigators in my office were discussing some case that had happened a day or two prior that involved an emancipated juvenile.

I was just logging into my workstation to check my e-mail and I turned to my co-worker and asked, "Hey, so when a juvenile gets emancipated, and he announces it - proclaims it, if you will - what would they call that?"

He stares at me with a blank, uncomprehending expression and I continue, "An emancipation...proclamation? Maybe?"

The annoyed groans of someone who's been up for 24 hours are so satisfying.

I needed to run to Home Depot just a little while ago, and my eight year old son has been driving my wife insane, so he was sent with me. He asked a hundred questions about what tool does what and why I needed this or that. Despite my distracted supervision, he surely mixed up several loose nuts and bolts.

At the exit of the self checkout line, there's a massive gumball machine that holds massive gumballs. I rarely carry change, so he's out of luck.

Sonny Boy: Dad, can I have a quarter?

Me (checking out): Nope. Don't have one.

Sonny Boy: You don't have any cents?

Me: If I had any cents, I'd have left you at home tonight.

No, he didn't get it, and I'm shocked he set it up so well by saying cents. But, the dude in the line next to me let out a solid guffaw. We made the satisfying, knowing eye contact of two dad joke aficionados. I'm glad someone else heard it.

My 5 year old stepson was sitting next to my wife on the couch, and a devious idea crossed mind. I called the boy over after a quick Googling and showed him the product of my search. He asked what it was, and I promptly told him they were boobies. I looked at the wife in time to see this amazing look of terror wash over her face. Still shocked, he says, "Hey Momma, want to see some boobies?" He grabs my tablet and shows her a picture of the most beautiful, soft looking blue footed boobies I could find. Her initial shock quickly turned to laughter and I was satisfied.

Patient: Why couldn't they play cards on the Ark?

Me: Why?

Patient: Because Noah was standing on the deck.

He chuckled so satisfyingly. 84-years-old, one day post-op from a total knee replacement, proof that nothing can stop the dad jokes.

I asked her if she had a brother named Beforton.

-One of my only RL dad comments, the groan was so satisfying.

The circumstances for this joke were so specific I don't think it will ever be repeated.

Yesterday morning I stopped by my parent's house and my mom had just made coffee. She buys "raw unfiltered honey" from a local farmers market to sweeten the coffee. First she handed my dad his cup, then she was about to put a spoonful of honey in mine when she stopped and said "there's something in this honey!"

I looked at it and it was literally a bee's hairy little leg. I looked in the jar and found one more. I said "its no big deal, im sure its fine", then I picked out the legs. Just then my dad takes a big sip and makes an "Ahhh" sound like he's satisfied. He then holds up the cup and smiles at us like he's in a 1950's Folgers commercial and says "This coffee is the BEE'S KNEES!"

It was epic.

A man from Spain visiting the US walked into a clothes store. He said to the clerk, "Quiero comprar unos calcetines, por favor." Unfortunately, the clerk didn't speak Spanish, and the Spaniard didn't speak English. They searched all around the store, the clerk pointing to various items, hoping to find what the foreign customer wanted.

He pointed at jackets, but the foreigner shook his head and said "No quiero chaquetas." Then he pointed at shirts, but the client was not satisfied and said "No quiero ni camisas." The clerk pointed at sweaters, pants, shoes... but the Spaniard said he didn't want "ni sudaderas, ni pantalones, ni zapatos...".

They couldn't come across the item the shopper needed. Finally, the clerk points to a table of socks, and the man from Spain exclaimed with joy, "¡Eso sí que es!" The clerk exploded in anger, shouting "If you could spell it, why didn't you say it before?!"

I apologize for this wall of text, I didn't know where I should cut out parts because they're all relevant to the story. Sorry again.

Hey TFR people! So for background, I work at a kiosk in a mall where I repair cracked phones and do other mind numbing work that I can now probably do in my sleep. I've been doing this job for a little over two years and can fix an iPhone, for example, in about 15 minutes. I apologize for the wall of text. Anyway, this story happened last night.

So, a family of three walk up (mother, father and daughter) but only the father spoke to me and this is where conversation starts. Note: When I was handed this girls phone she had a case with this image on it and was already about to laugh. Customer will be C and I of course will be Me.

C: How much does it cost to fix my daughters phone and can it be fixed?

Me: Oh it's very repairable, after tax and labor, it comes to $xxx.xx.

C: Do it

Fuck, he's one of these guys...

Me: Alright then, I just need a name and signature on this disclaimer we have.

At this point, I've taken their phone and am prepping to work on it.

C: Do I have to use my real name?

PAUSE Now, over the 2+ years I've worked here, I have never heard this question. So I was kind of taken by surprise by it. For a minute, I thought he was one of those paranoid people. PLAY

Me: Um.. Well I guess you don't have to. It's preferred since we can look you up in our system faster later.

C: Oh ok.

I turn back around and start to use my tools on the phone when customer guy throws me another curve ball question.

C: Can my daughter still play the piano when this is done?

I manage to turn and see him smirking a little and go back to his serious poker face so I pick up that he's joking.

Me: Well I would hope so. Slight laughter

C: Oh ok great! She's never even touched one before so it's good to hear her skill won't change in the slightest.

I'm on the verge of outright laughing at this point. I manage to hold it back and finish my repair. I snap her grumpy cat case back on, hand her phone back when she mentions the home button isn't working.

Oh that's an easy fix

Me: Ah, don't worry. Give me one second and I'll have that fixed.

C: One. Try it now "Insert girls name"

Me: Haha well I haven't done what I need to yet.

I pull out a giant clear bag half full of spare parts.

**

I'm a server at a restaurant part time, and the other week I was serving a table of around 8 people. I went over to check on them and see if anyone was done so I could clear their plates. They said they weren't done...

Me - Okay I was just checking, I don't want you to think I'm rushin you.

The dad - Yeah I don't think anybody here is Russian.

Me - Yeah but is anyone Finnish?

The whole table busted out laughing. I walked away satisfied and was also left a handsome tip.

My mother was complaining about how she has to do so much cooking, cleaning, and other house chores. My dad was trying to calm her down when she blurts out "What do I look like? Cinderella?" I saw the opening and pounced on it. "Well if the shoe fits" I said. The glorious feeling as she groaned at how bad it was while my dad laughed was so satisfying. My future children will stand no chance.

Nothing more satisfying than tying up the bottle, smacking it around a bit, and calling it a very naughty pill.

.. and he's wearing an expensive, expertly tailored black suit. The mortician asks the deceased's wife how she would like the body dressed, pointing out that the man does look good in the black suit he is already wearing. The widow, however, says that she always thought her husband looked his best in blue, and that she wants him in a blue suit. She gives the mortician a blank check and says, 'I don't care what it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing.' The woman returns the next day and to her delight, she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe; the suit fits him perfectly. She says to the mortician, 'Whatever this cost, I'm very satisfied.. You did an excellent job and I'm very grateful. How much did you spend?' To her astonishment, the mortician presents her with the blank check, 'There's no charge.' 'No, really, I must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit,' she says. 'Honestly, ma'am,' the mortician says, 'it cost nothing. You see, a deceased gentleman of about your husband's size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday, and he was wearing an attractive blue suit. I asked his wife if she minded him going to his grave wearing a black suit instead, and she said it made no difference as long as he looked nice.' 'So I just switched the heads.'