Souled Out Puns

I’m worried about my cousin. He’s 28 with a good job. Has a lot in common with me (nerdy habits: board games, gaming conventions, anime etc). Unfortunately I have recently learned that he is one of those poor souls obsessed with Belle Delphine. Apparently it started out innocently enough. My cousin is into cosplay. He’s into girls. Ooh, there’s cosplay girls on the internet? What began as a YouTube channel subscription and a few dozen likes on Instagram has progressed into something much more serious. This man is spending money. My cousin’s social media accounts have recently featured pictures of him with his Belle Delphine merch. T-shirts, body pillows, there’s even some kind of bed spread/comforter with her googly-eyed tongue-outy face on it. Did you know that Belle Delphine briefly partnered with Tom’s shoes for a limited edition series of footwear? I knew that, because my cousin won’t shut up about how he bought them all. He’s got at least three jars of dirty bath water and a gaming keyboard with her face on it. It’s really sad. I think the isolation of the pandemic really exacerbated his behavior. He says that he and Belle are destined to be together. For my part, I’m telling him that this isn’t healthy behavior, and I’m encouraging him to seek counseling. I’m convinced he has a mental health issue like Obsessive Love Disorder or Erotomania. Afterall, he does have all of the Simp Toms.

Now I want my Nickelback.

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

are sitting at a doctor's office waiting to be seen. Attempting to make small talk, the shoe turns to the clock and says, "I went to buy the new Playstation but when I got there they were souled out. I guess I'll have to wait in line next time." The clock responds "I got one because I was the first in line. I've got plenty of time on my hands."

I'm sorry in advance.

Every year, the team was in the state championship game, and usually won it handily. Every able lad within a few hundred miles wanted to play football for Central Catholic Fighting Knights.

Those who were familiar with the program, knew that the true heart and soul of the Knights football program was Sister Mary Margaret, an aged nun who would, in full habit, get out on the practice field and work on routes with the receivers, give pointers to the quarterbacks on their stances and releases, but most of all, love them like the second mother that she became to all of the boys in that program.

One year, on the eve of the state championship game, some evil malefactors broke into the convent and kidnapped Sister Mary Margaret. Everyone was stunned by the news, but none more so than the Knights of Central Catholic. They were devastated at the loss of their mentor.

As you might guess, the state championship game didn't go very well. For the first time in the history of the football program, the Knights were shut out. The Spartans beat them 42-0.

The next day, the headline on the local sports section read:

No Offense, Nun Taken

I once had a job in a t-shirt factory. Every day, t-shirts would come down the line, and using this big rubber stamp, I’d apply a handful of dots to them, at random, to just given them a general design that wasn’t blank t-shirt. It was soul sucking, but it paid the bills.

However, I kept running into a problem. I wasn’t applying the dots fast enough. It was a mental thing - I’d get hung up on where should I apply the next dot so it doesn’t look bad, etc. But one of the guys who’d been there longer than I had gave me a piece of advice. He told me to cross to my eyes. That way, I could just kinda zone out and hit the t-shirt a few times randomly without paying much attention to where exactly I was applying the dots. It worked like magic.

Well eventually I was getting ready to leave the factory and they had me train my replacement. It only took one day. I left him with one piece of advice. I told him not to get too hung up on the specific details but just to make sure he dotted his tees and crossed his eyes.

One man pulled an old guitar off the wall that hadn’t been tuned in years and gave it to the octopus.

The octopus took the guitar, tuned it right up and began play.

There was no doubt that the octopus was an excellent guitar player.

The man paid his handler $50 and sat down.

Another man brought a saxophone to the octopus.

The octopus took it and stared for a bit.

After a minute or two the octopus began playing a deep and soulful jazz solo.

This man paid his $50 and sat down.

The bartender went into the back and brought out a set of bag pipes.

The bartender said, “I’ll bet $100 that the octopus can’t play these bagpipes.”

The man agreed and handed them to the octopus.

The octopus sat there eyeing the bagpipes up and down for quite awhile.

The handler began to get nervous so he said to the octopus, “Hurry up and start playing the thing”

The octopus spewed, “Play it?! I wanna marry her!"

We know he frequently fasted which made him somewhat frail and caused bad breath. We also know that he often went without shoes, making the souls of his feet very tough.

This made him a... Super-calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.

(I’ll see myself out)

St. Peter was guarding the Pearly Gates, waiting for new souls coming to heaven. He saw Jesus walking by and caught his attention. "Jesus, could you mind the gate while I go do an errand?"

"Sure," replied Jesus. "What do I have to do?"

"Just find out about the people who arrive. Ask about their background, their family, and their lives. Then decide if they deserve entry into Heaven."

"Sounds easy enough. OK."

So Jesus manned the gates for St. Peter. The first person to approach the gates was a wrinkled old man. Jesus summoned him to sit down and sat across from him. Jesus peered at the old man and asked, "What did you do for a living?"

The old man replied, "I was a carpenter."

Jesus remembered his own earthly existence and leaned forward. "Did you have any family?" he asked.

"Yes, I had a son, but I lost him."

Jesus leaned forward some more. "You lost your son? Can you tell me about him?"

"Well, he had holes in his hands and feet."

Jesus leaned forward even more and whispered, "Father?"

The old man leaned forward and whispered, "Pinocchio?"

At work, there was a metal catering tray filled to the brim with cold water sittin' around for no reason so I asked the receptionist/coworker, who has said repeatedly that she just can't stand me, if I should dump it. She looked at me, smiled and said "If you can." I responded "without spilling it?" In a 'of course I'm not going to spill but dont rule it out' way. She said "Yes." Silently giving me good luck. Fortunately, I done did the deed and no brand new flooring was harmed. I then proceeded to google water jokes. After that, I walked up to her desk, glanced into her soul for the slightest moment while greeting, "Hey Sarah" , then I swiftly looked downwards as she asked, "Yeah?" I THEN told her this, "I don't know about you but unlike that cold water I just dumped". I pause, regain eye contact and finished with, "boiling water will be mist."

There isn’t another soul on the street.

Suddenly, from out of the gloom, comes an ominous bump...bump…bump.

He looks behind him and spots a furtive, shadowy thing coming down the street after him.

Unnerved, he picks up his pace, finally breaking into a panicked run.

He looks behind him again, and the shadow is closer.

Bump…bump…bump.

The glow of a streetlight illuminates the shadow momentarily, and, to the man’s horror, it is a coffin, bumping down the sidewalk.

He quickens his pace, running as fast as he can go, but the coffin only pursues more quickly.

BUMP…BUMP…BUMP!

He reaches his house, fumbles frantically for his keys, and slips in the door just as the coffin reaches his front steps.

He slams the door and leans against it, catching his breath.

Bump…bump…bump.

There is a moment’s silence, and the man wonders if he dares to breathe.

Suddenly…. Bump…bump…bump…Bump…

BUMP! BUMP!

BUMPBUMPBUMPCRAAAAASH!!!!

He rebounds away as the door breaks off its hinges.

Scrambling to his feet, he charges up the stairs, and the coffin races after.

BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP!

Terrified, he backs into a corner and starts throwing everything within reach at the coffin — a handful of papers, a vase, a box of crackers, a lamp — but the coffin keeps coming!

BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP INCHESFROMHISFACE, and nothing seems to slow it down!

His hands fall upon a bottle of cough syrup, and he throws that at the coffin, too!

The coffin stops.

I was trying on some really old pants, and this particular pair of pants were fucking tight. Like, squeeze my soul out tight.

I remarked- " Good god, when did we buy these? 1947? (I usually say this when I'm talking about something old. Independence and whatnot)

And my dad goes " Yeah. Your gramps passed it on to me, and now its yours. That's why they're called Jeans."

My mom got annoyed.

I once had a goat. One that nobody understood why he did the things he did, and he resented us all for it. So much so that he would head butt and attack anyone that tried to get close. He was just such a misunderstood soul. One day, I was looking out the window with my morning coffee when I saw that a passing stranger was sitting atop that old and rusted '55 Chevy pickup that sat in the pasture petting the goat. The goat had finally found someone that really understood him. I watched amazed as this stranger reached a closeness with the goat that I myself would never know . "Wow" I whispered to myself, "that man really gets my goat..."

HI I’m Tim the turtle, yes a real turtle. And I would like to tell you the story of my best friend. I once had a friend by the name of Sam. Sam of course was a clam. A real live honest to goodness clam. He was my best buddy, but unfortunately he smoked and drank and ran around with loose women (and a few men). I was more of the goodie two shoes type. I never drank, never smoked, I didn’t even swear. But for some reason Sam and I were the best of friends. I guess you can say we were the epitome of opposites attracting. One day as we were hanging out walking along the beach Sam, after his fifth cigarette in a row, had a heart attack and died. I was heart broken. My best friend died right there in front of me and he never repented his evil ways. I was sure he would spend eternity in damnation. Sigh. Being the goodie two shoes type I was still extremely healthy well into my old age. I missed my friend terribly for many years. On his birthday I would host a party and invite his old stripper girlfriends and poker buddies around to relive stories. It was always a fun evening, but in the end left me more lonely than before. Eventually, my broken heart couldn’t stand it anymore and I too died. I was pleased to find that there was a heaven. Being an almost saint I was whisked directly past the line to the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter. A big grin erupted on his face and he came right around his desk to give me a great big hug. “Tim”, he said, “You have been such a good person back on earth that God has asked me to grant you any wish you would like before even entering heaven”. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I thought for a minute, I guess God expected me to ask for more time on earth, but I knew what I really wanted to do was to visit with my old friend Sam. So I asked. Poor St. Peter didn’t know what to say. You know Sam is in Hell right? Well I knew that was a strong possibility so I wasn’t surprised. Peter excused himself for a while and went to check with the big guy himself. He was gone quite some time, but eventually he returned. Peter said my request was approved, but under a few conditions. First, I would have to carry a golden harp as a passport back into heaven. This harp could only be carried by a good soul so I couldn’t be replaced by a look alike demon. Second, I would have to return by midnight. God didn’t want me to face too much temptation. I agreed to these conditions and took the highway down to hell. (Nope n

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'."

For reference: Link to wiki

Some of these are done in a kind of "news headline"-style:

• Choir leader fired after using too much sexual innuendo; "Lewd Ex Cantor."

• Video on demand about a street where nothing happens; "Vod of the Boring Alley."

• Man's brutal cousin turns out to be a great bloke; "Raw-Ted, Great Dude".

• Panic spreads as toilet facilities take over the world; "Cry! Stall-Age."

• A man orders a book of basic letters to look after his daughters belongings while he looks after the others; "ABC, Watch Her's!".

• Sams brother cheats a dude; "Dean Cons the Peep."

• A ride in the amusement park offers a wide range of emotions; "High! Low! Woo! Nah."

• A weird and hard to describe new dessert; "Cold Lemon Thing."

• A new star in stand up rises! Come see "Puntiff Sulyvahn."

• Pirates start eating fava beans and a new drink is required; "Yo! Ho! The Chianti!."

• A Long lived man has an unusual apetite for fish; "Old-Rick, Devourer of Cods".

• In Bacteria-Town, a devastating disease strikes one inhabitant working at a hotel; "Cancer of the Borrelia Valet".

• Roman god Cubid is ordered to take a woman to cave and kill her; "Drag and Slay Her Amor"

• Osiris's statue has been in way too many marriages and people have started to call it; "Osiris the Consummated Thing."

• The choir leader from before is transformed into a mushroom; "Champignon Cantor"

• An english man becomes the leader of a Polish airplane company and gets nicknamed; "LOT-Rick"

• An impatient tree person attacks a random mythical hunter; "Antsy Ent! Why Hern?!"

• Horse named Elvis keeps making noise and a man shouts;"Neigh Less King!"

• A child opens a chocolate egg and a white spirit jumps out; "Soul of Kinder"

Sorry about the possible typos.

This one requires a little backstory:

There's a cardgame called WHOT! It's just uno but with different shapes. Me and my dad used to play it a lot.

Unfortunately it's led to the same terrible joke being made repeatedly over the last 10 years or so. It goes something like this:

Dad: "You'll never guess what film's on tv tonight."

Me: "What?"

Dad: "No, I don't think they made a movie out of that. It's a card game."

It's literally been going on for over a decade now and it pains me deep inside my soul every time he says it.

Scene: A family exploring a busy city, they've been walking for a while.

Sister: "My feet are so sore can we sit down somewhere soon?"

Dad: Sees the church that he wanted to check out "We can go inside that church"

Sister: "I just don't wanna walk any more though"

Dad: "But when you go inside, you can sit down and let your sole be healed" (Alt. Ver. "Let your soul be heeled")

It didn't hit me that we were dad joked until we were sitting inside.

So my dad pretty much lays this one on every friend of mine he ever meets.

There once was this man named Benny, who had the strongest desire to live forever. The devil knew these desires, and arose out of the dephts to make a deal with Benny.

The deal stated that, in exchange for Benny's soul, he would be gifted with immortality. The only condition was that Benny could not shave any part of his body, ever, or he would be instantly transformed into an urn.

Benny went on with his now unending life and found himself falling in love with a girl shortly after accepting this deal with the devil. The girl however. Would not love him back because of his ridiculously long hair covering his entire body. It was said that the hair from his knuckles would sweep the floor when he walked into the room, and he would constantly trip himself on his beard.

The girl eventually died and Benny fell into a deep depression. He decided it would be best to end his misery by going to a barbershop, and getting a shave. He sat in the barber's seat, and as soon as the blade reached his skin, he was transformed, and all that remained in the seat was a large, metal urn.

The moral of the story... A Benny Shaved is a Benny Urned.

My family and I were discussing the difference between soul sisters and sisters. My brother pointed out that the quote 'blood is thicker than water' is actually shortened from 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb'. Dad says 'I guess there's always womb for interpretation.' Ba dum, tsss.

Recently, Joe has been under the slight suspicion that his wife is cheating on him. So, one day he comes home early from work, to his crap-shoot apartment on the eighth floor, and hears her scurrying around when he enters. Almost as if there's another person in the house. When he calls out her name she hollers back that she just ran into the shower. So he investigates the bedroom and encounters a shocking surprise... a pair of hands dangling from the other side of the window sill! Those of a grown man, hanging on for dear life. Infuriated at the sight of the man who's sleeping with his wife, Joe takes the bedside lamp and starts bashing the guy's fingers until he falls eight stories onto the sidewalk. Only he's still alive, writhing and broken. So Joe hauls the refrigerator from the kitchen out the window, sending it down onto the poor sucker, killing him instantly. Now the hysteria of the moment induces a fatal heart attack and Joe himself, dies. So now, as he's up at the pearly gates, St. Peter is telling all the incoming souls that in order to gain access into heaven, they need to provide a solid account of how they died. After hearing Joe's story, St. Peter allows him in. The next man in line says that he was tanning in the sun, drunk, on the roof of his apartment building when he fell off, only to catch hold of a window sill that could have saved his life, until a crazed bastard beat his fingers and threw a refrigerator onto him. St. peter tells him that he's a shoe-in. And when he asks the next guy in line how he ended up deceased, the guy replies, "...So I'm naked in a refrigerator, right?"

Note: I work in a southern food restaurant.

The phone rings for a take out order.

Me: Hi, how can I help you?

Guy: I need to place an emergency order.

Me: Excuse me?

Guy: I got someone over here who's dying for some soul food.

Every able lad within a few hundred miles wanted to play football for Central Catholic Fighting Knights.

Those who were familiar with the program, knew that the true heart and soul of the Knights football program was Sister Mary Margaret, an aged nun who would, in full habit, get out on the practice field and work on routes with the receivers, give pointers to the quarterbacks on their stances and releases, but most of all, love them like the second mother that she became to all of the boys in that program.

One year, on the eve of the state championship game, some evil malefactors broke into the convent and kidnapped Sister Mary Margaret. Everyone was stunned by the news, but none more so than the Knights of Central Catholic. They were devastated at the loss of their mentor.

As you might guess, the state championship game didn't go very well. For the first time in the history of the football program, the Knights were shut out. The Spartans beat them 42-0.

The next day, the headline on the local sports section read:

No Offense, Nun Taken