Smoke Fire Puns

Apparently the correct terms are "cremation" and "burial".

Apparently the correct terms are "cremation" and "burial"

And while she was trying to put it out the police arrested her for "waving a firearm around."

I went inside to pay and saw two policemen in the store. I said "Did you guys see that woman out there?" They looked outside and suddenly darted out the door. I turn and see she caught her arm on fire.

The policemen threw a blanket around her and wrestled her to the ground and put out the fire. Then they gave her a ticket!

After they came inside I asked why they gave her a ticket. Turns out she didn't have a license for that firearm.

All offenses aside, I’m originally from Britain and we make fun of the Irish ALL the time.

So an Irishman stumbles upon a genie’s lamp and says to himself “ooh laddy what have we found here? I tink I’ll give it a rub to see if a genie appears!”

So he does, and lo, a puff of blue smoke comes pouring out of the spout, billows into the air and the genie’s form becomes solid. It speaks, “Oh master of the lamp, I am your genie and I grant you three wishes.”

The Irishman’s eyes are wide open with glee, his cheeks and nose red with fire, he shouts “tree wishes?! That’s just brilliant!” For me first wish, I’ll have a bottle of whiskey that never runs dry.”

The genie, eyes rolling, clicks his fingers and POOF a nice big bottle of whiskey appears before the Irishman. “Well I tink we’ll have to put this to the test!” He snatches up the bottle, takes a long healthy swig, glug glug glug, and the bottle pops as he releases it from his lips, “Ahhhhhhhh!!!” And to his amazement as soon as the liquid in the bottle settled, it gave a large burping “bulp!”, released a large bubble, and when the bubble popped the bottle was full again. “WELL I’LL BE! THAT’S THE MOST INCREDIBLE TING!”

The genie, steadfastly unimpressed, reminded the Irishman “Master, I will bring you fortune, splendor, reputation, treasures beyond any imagination. You have two wishes remaining. What would master want for a wish?”

The Irishman looks to the genie and says “oh tat’s easy! I’ll have two more of these!”

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

He must be a part of some extreme mist group.

You can say it's on the house.

Their method for hunting polar bears was the most interesting. They would start a fire out on a deep snow bank, and essentially melt a hole in the snow. Once the hole was big enough they would stop feeding it firewood and let it burnout on its own. Once the fire had gone down and was nothing more than smoldering ashes with a little bit of smoke, they would line the edge of the fire pit with snow peas.

All they had to do from there is hide and wait. Once a bear caught scent of the smoke and starts to investigate, the bear would eventually start eating some of the peas. Then they sneak up behind it and kick it in the ash-hole.

When I was a kid, my favourite thing ever was tractors. It was my first word, my first toy, I had posters of them on my bedroom walls and I loved to draw them too. Unfortunately with age I don’t quite have the same amount of passion nowadays. This all became relevant recently as there was this house fire on my street last week. My instincts told me to enter the house to save the family inside as the Fire Service hadn’t arrived yet. I was able to break down a door and actually clear all of the smoke from the house saving everyone inside. I escorted them out to be greeted by the Fireman who had just arrived. Puzzled, they asked how on earth I was able to clear all the smoke. I simply replied “I’m an extractor fan”.

And I saw a woman smoking while she was fueling. I'm sitting there in dismay when I look over at another pump and see two cops leaning against their car eating hotdogs.

I start giving them this look of "don't you see this? Are you going to do anything?" they seemed unconcerned.

Just as I look back to the woman, I see her arm had caught fire and she's freaking out, flaling her arm around trying to put it out. Suddenly the cops tackle her, putting out the fire and then they arrest her.

I asked them "well, why the hell are you arresting her for? Isn't getting burned bad enough? One of the cops just looked at me and said

"She was waving around a firearm! "

What is the biggest danger during a thrift store fire?

Secondhand smoke.

Thank you. I will gladly accept all the goodwill you wish to impart.

An ancient Babylonian general was involved in a plot to overthrow the king. But, the plot was uncovered, and the king threw him in jail.

The general managed to escape and he fled to a ziggurat several kilometers away to meet his followers. Unfortunately, the ziggurat was one of several in the area, and he wasn't sure his men would find the right one. So, the fugitive general lit a small fire to signal them.

The other generals of the king's army saw the smoke coming from the ziggurat, and they rushed over and killed him.

The moral of the story?

The searching general has determined that smoking ziggurats can be extremely hazardous to your stealth.

An ancient Babylonian general was once involved in a plot to overthrow the king. His plot included a number of followers in the upper ranks of the army. However, his plot was uncovered, and the king threw him in jail. The king sentenced him to death without a trial.

However, from the jail he was able to secretly contact his followers to arrange to escape, meet his followers, and attack the king's palace at night. So the night before his scheduled execution, the general managed to escape from prison. He fled to a ziggurat several kilometers away, where his followers would meet him. However, the ziggurat was one of several in the area, and he wasn't sure if his cohorts would find the right ziggurat. By this time it was twilight, so he lit a small fire and sent smoke signals to indicate in which structure he was hiding.

However, the king's loyal soldiers saw the smoke coming from the ziggurat, and came to arrest him before he could meet his followers. He was executed later that day.

The moral of the story? WARNING: The searching general has determined that smoking ziggurats can be extremely hazardous to your stealth.

A woman was at a gas station filling her car with gas. She inserted the nozzle and began filling the car with gas. As she waited for the car to fill, she lit a cigarette and began to smoke it. The car clicked to indicate it was full of gas, and she pulled the filler out of the car. Some gas leaked out of the filler onto her sweater arm, and a spark from the cigarette lit her arm on fire. The woman began to scream for help, and waved her arm about trying to put the fire out. A highway patrolman who happened to be nearby ran over and saw the woman flailing about in pain. Without hesitation, he pulled his handgun out of the holster and shot her three times. A few weeks later in court, the judge asked the patrolman why on earth he shot that woman? The patrolman answers, "well your honor, she was waving around a firearm!"

I said, "Well, guess they didn't stock enough watermelon." She refuses to talk to me now...

 

Link: http://www.nbcdfw.com/news/local/Smoke-Seen-for-Miles-from-Fire-near-Downtown-Dallas-422199263.html

Anyone: "I'm gonna run to the store, do you want anything?" Dad: "Wouldn't it be faster if you took the car?"

Anyone: "...it was sent U.P.S." Dad: "you mean Oops? (ups)"

Anyone: "....would I!?" Dad: "Harelip!"

Anyone: "is it okay if I smoke?" Dad: "why?, are you on fire?"

Anyone: "I think I've got something in my eye" Dad: "It's your finger"

Anyone: "Did you rotate the tires?" Dad: "Nah, they spin when I'm driving"

Anyone: (anything that even nearly rhymes with "badges", ie, "matches") Dad: "Matches? We don need no stinkeen matches!"

Anyone: "Where are you at?" Dad: "I'm right here. Where are you at?"

As I was eating dinner with my dad, he goes to put some pasta in the microwave with few oregano leaves on the top. I saw this and asked, "Is that okay to microwave raw oregano? I hope it doesn't turn out like kale." (For the few of you who have tried microwaving kale like me, you'll know that it sparks, smokes, and eventually catches fire.)

My dad responded with, "Yeah I hope it doesn't turn out like the kale, because then it will be chard."

Apparently the correct terms are "cremation" or "burial".