Small Set Puns

They divided the duties equally: one was the fish friar, and the other was

the chip monk!

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

Still one of my best so here's the set up.

I take my wife on a cruise for her birthday. Each night during dinner they have a section of things you would not normally try but you're on a cruise so try it. Anyway one night they had braised ox tongue. So I order it and get a side eye from the wife while doing so. It arrives and I had correctly anticipated her question. Anyway here's the conversation...

Braised ox tongue appetizer is set before me. I cut a small piece and put in it my mouth and begin to chew.

Wife: Well, how is it?!? Me: (slowly looking up) it's... tasty.
W: Did you really order that just to make that joke? Me: yes, yes I did.

In all actuality it was quite good.

"Hey, barkeep!" he says, struggling to keep control of his quarry. "Any room for me and my friends?"

The bartender smiles and sets down some plastic cups. The man plops his friends inside, but the cups are too small.

"Um...barkeep?" the man says, pulling them out again. The bartender reaches for some larger mugs, but as he places them next to the cups, it becomes obvious that even these will be too small for the pigs.

Seeing the man struggle to continue holding them, the bartender runs to the kitchen for help.

A cook emerges, holding several large measuring cups. "Sorry, I just used these to make a batch of cheese dip, but they're all yours!"

The man carefully plops each pig into its respective gooey yellow cup.

Arms exhausted, breathing heavily, he drops into a stool at the end of the bar, between his tiny friends and a beautiful girl.

He glances her way, gasping coyly. "Hey...I'm...Tom."

She smiles, having watched the whole ordeal. "Hi Tom, I'm Liz. And if you don't mind me asking..." she laughs, looking over his shoulder, "what was that all about?"

He glances back at the bar. "Yeah...sorry," he pants. "I wanted...to impress you, but...it turned out to be...a pretty cheesy...pig-cup line."

A minimum

...so he called in his court wizard to devise a means of defense. The wizard set to work at once. First, he wove a net, tightly so that nothing could escape. Then he traveled to the nearby lake.

For three days, he went to the edge of a dock, and cast his net into the water. Each time, he collected many small fish, until he had gathered thousands.

He then took the fish to his study, and carefully processed them, crushing them into a sticky paste. Warming the paste, he began to lather it across the walls of the maze.

When the king learned of this, he was very angry.

"How dare you cover my walls with fish paste!" he said.

The wizard replied, "But sire, everyone knows to protect a labyrinth, one must use a minnow tar."

The year is 1541 and the French have just begun colonization in North America. Young Jean-Luc is in his newly crafted home when suddenly his friend Jean-Pierre bursts through his front door. 'Jean Luc!' he exclaims. 'You weel nevar believe! I 'ave 'eard word of a bacon tree!'. Jean-Luc looks confused and scoffs 'Imposseeble! You cannot grow BaycON on a tree!'. 'Come! And I weel show you ze bacon tree!'. So Jean-Luc & Jean-Pierre set off down the river, with Jean-pierre providing direction to the enigmatic 'bacon tree'. Finally, they pulled over onto a small beach that lead to a large forest. 'Stay 'ere and watch ze canoe, and I weel bring ze bacon back from ze bacon tree!' said John-Pierre. Hours go by and John-Pierre hasn't returned. As night falls, and Jean-Luc is about to enter the forest to look for his friend, he hears a rustling in the nearby brush, to which Jean-Pierre stumbles out, bloody and with arrows through his legs and arms. 'Jean-Pierre! What 'appened!!' exclaimed Jean-luc. 'Turns out it was not a bacOn tree.....it was an 'AMBUSH!!!'

I was helping my daughter pack her car today, getting ready to leave tomorrow morning. She had a set of plastic stacking drawers wedged into her car, but in getting it there, it had come apart some, so we had to take it out to tape it together better. There was a black plastic bag leaning against it, and in all the wriggling, the drawers tore a small hole in the plastic bag. After taping the drawers, I noticed a small piece of the black plastic stuck to the drawers. I took it off and tried to give it to my daughter, saying, "Here's your hole," but of course she didn't want it, so I put it (you see this coming already, don't you?) in my pocket, and said, "Now I have a hole in my pocket." Her eye-roll was hilarious.

(Does anyone else remember a similar bit from the "Yellow Submarine" movie?)

when there was a terrible accident. The fire in his forge had gone out of control and set fire to the shop. The blacksmith nearly lost his life. He was bedridden for many months and relied on the help of his children and grandchildren to feed him, bathe him, and take care of all of his needs. Eventually he was able to get back on his feet, though his outlook on life had turned quite grim. He was now able to take care of himself, but he had lost much of his strength and dexterity from the injuries he sustained and he was unable to practice his trade. He fell into a deep depression and he spent most of his days sitting at home in front of the fireplace gazing into the flames, longing for the days when his strong hands could grasp a hammer and strike a hot piece of iron, slowly forging it into a beautiful piece of work.

One evening when the old man was sitting in front of the fire, he heard a knock at the door. It was his granddaughter, whom he hadn't seen in many months. She had overheard her father talking to her mother about how her grandfather was slowly slipping away into depression and hopelessness and she wanted to help. To the old man's surprise, she had brought him a puppy. "I thought that since you're always here all by yourself that you might want someone you keep you company," the granddaughter said. The old man's eyes welled up with tears and the little puppy instantly jumped into his arms and began licking the tears from his face. The old man and his granddaughter spent the next several hours sitting on the floor of his house watching the puppy chase around a rubber ball, bouncing, jumping, panting, and licking. In that short time, the old man had made complete turnaround from being sad, lonely, and hopeless, to smiling from ear to ear, full of joy with his new-found companion. As the hours grew late and the puppy grew tired, the granddaughter said "Well Opa, I'm glad you like your puppy, but it's late and I should be heading home. By the way, what are you going to call him?" "Life," said the old man, "because he has given me a new meaning and joy to mine." The granddaughter kissed her grandfather on the cheek, wished him goodnight, and she left.

Many years passed and all the while, the old man and his little dog were inseparable. Everywhere the old man went, Life was always with him whether it was the post office, the grocery store, and even when the old man went to the barber shop, the little dog would sit patiently until the last hair on

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'."

Producing a amateur stage show which features Mr Trump. He ends the show setting up a small shop/fast food /grocery shop in a small rural location.

What would his shop be called? Hit me with your puns!

Years ago I used to use a LexisNexis database of companies that would give corporate information like name, address, and general business description. While most of them were pretty bland, there were a bunch of them with some really cheesy puns, and over a few years I built quite a collection.

Today I share with you "NEXIS IS RIDICULOUS.txt":

• Bucyrus International caters to those who mine their own business.
• It would be logical for Mr. Spock to boldly go to Vulcan International for rubber products. He might even live long and prosper -- in comfortable shoes.
• What do manufacturer Electro-Motive Diesel (EMD) and 1970s band Grand Funk Railroad have in common? They both want you to do the locomotion!
• Peter Piper can pick more than a peck of peppers or pickles from B&G Foods.
• Toray Plastics America could sing "foam, foam on the range, where the polyester and polypropylene materials are made" all day.
• Break out the Tums, because things are awfully gassy over at Air Liquide America.
• If a tree falls in a Weyerhaeuser forest, someone is there to hear it -- and he has a chainsaw.
• Although not a pushover, you can walk all over Wilsonart International.
• Here's a HEICO haiku: HEICO companies/ Providing for jet engines/ In flight or on land.
• American Italian Pasta Company (AIPC) uses its noodle in many different ways.
• The golf industry doesn't mind when Aldila gives it the shaft.
• Rat-a-tat-tat and a ringa-ding-ding. What's that? Answer: The sounds emanating from Pearl, one of the world's foremost makers of drums and other percussion and musical instruments.
• Saint-Gobain Ceramics & Plastics deals powders and crystal, but there's no need to call the cops.
• Pamida Stores Operating Company offers more small-town values than a bandwagon of Republicans on the campaign trail.
• Like a tight end, offshore drilling contractor Transocean dreams of going deep but doesn't mind eating a little mud.
• Rittal me this, Batman!
• Utility Trailer Manufacturing is spreading its own brand of reefer madness.
• Who is the Fresh Prince of Sullair?
• If GrafTech International were a bard, it could wax poetic in an ode to the electrode.
• When it comes to adhesives and vibration control products, LORD knows.
• You might say that Deere & Company enjoys its customers going to seed.
• Pfizer pfabricates pfarmaceuticals pfor quite a pfew inpfirmities.
• Stripping is OK at Spraylat.
• Don't think Seton is

Ok. So let me set the stage. We're on the Pennsylvania Turnpike and I see a sign that says Mt. Nebo. I said....

Me: "Do you know that Mt. Nebo has a twin mountain that's small, a little higher and a little pointier?"

Kids: "No"

Me: "Yeah... it's called Mt. Elbow"

Me: "HAH!"

Kids: "groan"

Basically set decoration, we had a small crew. A lot of the actors and the rest of the crew were confused who was in charge of those items. Luckily, Jason was a reliable, honest guy. In fact, he was one of the most honest, dependable people I knew on set.

So that evening before we had dinner together, I called Jason to the center, and thanked him for the quality of work that he'd put out so far, and I said "Props to Jason."

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."

I was sitting in his seat talking to my mother/grandparents for a bit when an idea hit me. So after some brief set up, I went searching for dad.

Me: I really like the small touches they added, like the personalised messages on the table placements

Dad: What?

Me: You know, the name tag to show where people are sitting

Dad: Yeah, I know what you're talking about, but there's no message on them.

Me: Yes there is! It's on the inside of them, just have to flip them over to read it

Dad: I'm telling you, there's no message on them!

Me: I absolutely guarantee that there is a personalised message written on your name tag!!

So, determined to prove me wrong we go inside to his table and he flips over his name tag to find, in my handwriting, "told you so".

My dad told me this the first time on Halloween night back when I was 9. He tells it to this day to any of my cousins, nephews, or any kids that happen to linger too long at the house when he's giving out candy. It's a long one but I have always enjoyed it.

Back when I was about your age, I went on a Halloween adventure. There was an old abandoned house on our street where a series of grisly axe murders had taken place years before. The house had never sold and was left vacant and was left to fall apart. There was a local legend that if you went into the house on Halloween night, you'd be confronted by the ghost of the murderer himself, still looking for more victims to add to his terrifying story.

My friend Tom and I decided to go through with it one year. Knowing everyone would be too terrified to go into the house, we snuck in easily on Halloween night. The place was falling apart inside, the carpet was wet and moldy and the wallpaper was peeling off everywhere. We headed down carefully to the basement down a set of creaky stairs.

At first we found nothing. Just an empty creepy old house. Suddenly we felt as if we were being watched. I was looking through one of the rooms in the large basement when I suddenly heard Tom shriek. I spun around and turned my flashlight and Tom was being chased by something, no someone. It looked like it was the murderer! A crazed man with an axe!

We turned and tried to run anywhere. We were in the basement but couldn't get up the stairs because we were blocked. We ran into the side room which looked like it might have been the laundry years ago. We locked the door and looked for a way out. The only thing we could find was a small window that opened onto ground level. As I climbed out I heard a pounding on the door. I managed to wriggle my way through the window and turned around to help my friend Tom. Panicking, he managed to get his top half through the window when I noticed the pounding stop.

Tom was stuck! I kept trying to pull him up but I couldn't. I pulled as hard as I could as Tom panicked and thrashed even more. I thought something had him caught, but it was even worse. The murderer had gotten behind him and was holding him back! He was too strong for me to overcome and he was pulling Tom's leg!

Just like I've been pulling yours this whole time.

We're sat down for Christmas dinner and we all pull crackers. My father gets a small set of pocket screwdrivers. I ask 'Are they all flatheads or are they phillips?', to which he replys with the knowing grin 'They're not Phillips, they're mine'.

I work at Chiquitos in the UK, I was seating a gentleman and his daughter and pointed toward a booth which was set to my right and asked

"Is that one all right for you?"

To which he replied "Its on my left actually."

Later, when I was taking the payment I made small talk and said

"So, are you up to anything good today?"

He said "No, might do something bad though."

Told him that I could only aspire to his level of dad-joke, he said it might take some years of practice. I can only hope.

I begin to pour the remainder of the freshly cooked chips from the tray on to the plate. At the bottom I notice there are some fries left in the tray. Coworker leans in and says "Surfries!"

I set the tray down and we cackle over the remark. Manager quickly puts his hand on the counter and flips the tray up, sending a small portion of salty fries into and around his eye. I turn to my coworker: "Surfries!"

I maintain a small pun page on Facebook because a bunch of my family and friends would "complain" every time I'd post an image pun to my personal page.

My 17 year old step-son just sent me this one for the page. I'm so proud of him.

My boss was setting up a teleconference between our home office and our branch office in Washington D.C. I wasn't attending this meeting, but was outside the room getting some coffee when he came out. We made some small talk and he said he was waiting on everyone in the D.C. office to finish eating before he headed back into the room. This was my moment to shine:

Me: "Oh, were they eating conifers?"

Boss (slightly confused) "No"

Me: "You're right. They probably eat D.Ciduous food out there"

Too good not to share.