Soiling Puns

Hmm...the plot thickens

My friend looked at me and said, "I guess there's only so much shit you can take."

True story.

I told her thats dirt cheap

It just happened. I'm evolving

But I can't go to the cops cause they got dirt on me.

if you haven't botany.

Whenever asked about this, he would boldly proclaim that he “was not throwing away his snot”.

The plot thickens

It was pretty terrable.

It was annoying at first, but I think it grew on me!

So technically, Insight’s purpose is to give us insight about what’s not IN SIGHT

but they only have one copy, and it was already out on loam

There was, for instance, the time he conducted a crew of new S.A.R.H. (Society for the Aesthetic Rearrangement of History -BJ) recruits – all from late twentieth-century Terra – on a training study of Carter’s World, a newly established agricultural colony attempting to support itself by the export of edible nuts. Barely into their second generation, and having yet to show a profit, the colonists were technologically backward. Nevertheless, they showed a surprising ingenuity in the use of their few advantages. It was this resourcefulness that Feghoot was demonstrating to his rookies.

“Look at the perfection with which these streets are graded”, exclaimed one student. “Earth-moving machinery on this scale is strictly high technology stuff. How can they do it?”

“A new alleyway is being constructed, nearby”, said Feghoot. “Let us walk that way while I explain.” As they strolled, he told his students that countless centuries before, the Carter’s World system had been inhabited by a now-vanished race of giants. This very planet had served them for a nursery, and among the many artifacts they had left were thousands of childrens blocks, immense and precision-cut. You simply jack one up onto logs, bring it where you want it, put collapsible jacks underneath, snake out the logs, spread soil more or less evenly beneath, and collapse the jacks.

“I see”, said the student. “It’s not graded road at all; its a simple hammered-earth base.”

“That’s right,” Feghoot went on smoothly. “You just hit the road jack and don’t come back no mo.”

His students registered dismay and anguish.

“Isn’t that right, old-timer?,” Feghoot demanded of an ancient Carterian standing by the mouth of the newly completed alley they had just reached.

“Ahm afraid not, suh”, said the senior citizen, and the students giggled at Feghoots discomfiture. “Oh, we used to do it that way, but it was far too much trouble. It’s the soil heah. You see, the very same soil which produced our famous cashews is so high in clay content that a child could roll out a road of it. Then, we simply use a system of lenses to bake it into hardness. Ahve just completed this alley mahself, and ahm just a retired professor of Sports History, much too old and feeble to handle hydraulic jacks.

“So you see,” he finished, eyes twinkling, “Mah hammered alley is really cashews clay.”

Howls of agony rose from the students, but Feghoot never hesitated. “And he”, he said, turning to his students, “is clearly the gradi

He takes good care of it every day. He waters it and fertilizes the soil around it. As it becomes a big and healthy tree, the chemist thinks to himself: What a good chemist-tree.

I thought "shit just got real".

"You'll slip and fall." She said.

I replied "Don't worry, the soil will keep me planted."

The plot thickens.

“And so the plot thickens...”

I knew it would stick the landing.

Kept on insisting that I had promised to build him a treehouse but I don't remember evergreening this elm of a contract. Though he kept inisisting I had birch the agreement due to the long delay but my attempt to confern the fertility of the spruce was in roots. Now I have to oak up and face the spruce. My weekend has been soiled and I now have to maple my son's treehouse whilst I willow my day away. Although... Now that I twig about it, having a treehouse in my yard sounds like a pine idea.

She asked how much it was. I said "Don't worry, it was dirt cheap."

I said, "You pay full price, ma'am. We don't negotiate with terroirists."

I've always liked his self-defecating sense of humor

Drop the Base!

Me: This looks like a great detective novel.

Her: What?

You: You know. The plot thickens.

My son noticed that I had brown all over my shorts.

Son: “What happened, dad?”

Me: “Well, son, I appear to have soiled myself.”

The plot thickens.

The plot thickens.

The plot thickens

The plot thickens...

The plot thickens.

The plot thickens.

The plot thickens.

The plot thickens.

The plot thickens

The plot thickens.

The plot thickens

The plot thickens

The Plot Thickens

The plot thickens.