Studio Music Puns

I was buying new tires for my car. While I was discussing my options the person down the counter was flustered at the prices she was being offered. To this she loudly asked:

"I put the same ones on my husbands Jeep last year! What happened? Why are they so expensive?!"

To which I looked at over and loudly stated. "Inflation."

The guys behind the counter laughed. The rest of the room groaned out a chorus of dadjoke music that should have been filmed live in front of a studio audience.

Pig plays the drums, Horse sings, and Cow plays the guitar. They’re all exceptionally talented, and form a band, supplementing other spots from around the city. They play local dives, some free shows in the park, and they begin to get some traction. Pig suggests they record an album, and they send demos all over. One label is willing to give them a shot, and they open for a B List name on their tour. During the tour, they amass millions of fans, and by the time they record their first major studio album, they have a following so big that 3 of their songs top the charts. They soon find themselves headlining their own tour, as well as every major music festival.

The three friends are over the moon with their success. Never in their wildest dreams did they believe they’d find themselves rubbing shoulders with music greats. It doesn’t come without its downsides, though. Pig has turned to coke and pills to help him get through the long nights. Horse loves the party side of his new life, and his band mates often hide bottles from him when they’re not dragging him, drunk, to his bed. Cow is sad. Watching his friends fall apart, he misses being home and when things were more simple. Keeping his friends in line and covering for them is taking a toll on his own health.

After a year and a half on the road, the band is in the studio attempting to record their second album. Horse is fast asleep, drooling on the mixing board, hungover from the night before. Pig hasn’t even shown up. Cow has a breakdown, and shakes Horse awake. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” Horse waves him off, and falls back asleep. Cow packs up his guitar and buys a one-way ticket home.

A few days later, Pig is all over the news. He’s in jail for possession. Cow watches the news and shakes his head. He knew it was a sinking ship. Horse hears the news from their manager, who is also calling to tell him that he quit. He wakes up to the phone call, and texts Cow, pleading to have a conversation. Radio silence. Horse stumbles out of bed and heads for his favorite pub. He can’t believe that he’s down two friends, that the band has split up, and his life is in shambles. He sits at the bar. “I’ll have my usual,” he says. The bartender leans over to hand Horse a whiskey. “Hey buddy, why the long face?”

They'd traded jokes, played pop music, and generally made people's lives a touch brighter as they trundled to work.

Now, though, there was silence on the air. Ernie silently reread the fax message from the Department of Defense. As licensed broadcasters they were legally obligated to alert the public, to tell them the nukes were flying and that in a few minutes all the world's troubles would be over. What, though, was the point of that? To torture people with the knowledge of something they couldn't change?

Their eyes met and a decision was reached. Bert put on their most requested song, a sugary top 40 tune while Ernie produced a bottle of bourbon from under the desk. As their producer banged on the locked studio door the colleagues toasted the end of a long career.

Bert, always the consummate professional, turned away from the window as the first explosion split the distant horizon. He straightened his tie, tucked in his shirt, and brushed his hair back. He would meet his fiery death with dignity.

He turned to Ernie and said in a quiet, resigned voice, "How do I look, Ernie?"

Ernie walked slowly over to his friend. He looked into Bert's face and saw the closeness they shared, the strength of their relationship, forged over the years. He took a deep breath and spoke quietly:

"With your eyes, Bert."

So far I’ve got:

Sandwich co (you can’t beat our meat) IT company (if you’ve got a Trojan we can help) Laundry service (dont press your luck) Organic shop (all we do is pot, and pull hoes) or (getting down and dirty with your hoes) Pet groomers (send your dog to pound town) Transport and travel [by plane] (we’ll get you high) Financial planner (saving lives, with your life savings) Bakery (fresh perky muffins in the front, soft buns in the back) Coffee shop (Mugging you at every corner)

Still looking for raunchy puns and double entendres for:

A Podcast/ music studio A Personal chef A Tour and travel agency A Health care company A Record studio A Game developer A Copyrighting co A Tailor A Garage/bike repair company A Clothing/hat maker A Personal trainer A Truck sharing (moving co) An Architecture bureau or real estate co An Illustrator A Pest control company A Wedding planner A Fishing and charter tour company A Liquor store

Help me out.

Bert and Ernie worked together as daytime radio hosts for over twenty years. They'd traded jokes, played pop music and generally made peoples lives a touch brighter as they trundled to their workplace.

Now though, there was a silence on the air. Ernie silently reread the fax from civil defense. As licensed broadcasters, they were legally obligated to alert the public, to tell them that several nuclear missile launches had occured, and that in a few minutes all the world's troubles would be over. But what was the point in that? To torture people with the knowledge of something they couldn't change?

Ernie looked up at Bert. Their eyes met and a decision was reached. Bert put on their most requested song, a sugary top 40 tune, while Ernie produced a bottle of bourbon from under the desk. As their producer banged on the locked studio coor, the colleagues toasted the end of a long career.

Bert. always the consummate professional, turned away as the first explosion split the horizon. He straightened his tie, tucked in his shirt and brushed his hair back. He would meat his fiery death with dignity.

He turned to Ernie and said in a quiet, resigned voice, "How do I look, Ernie?"

Ernie walked slowly over to his friend. He hugged his companion, released him and studied Bert's face. He saw the closeness they shared, all the long years tying them together, and the strength of their relationship. He took a deep breath, with tears streaming down his cheeks. He spoke in a quiet, broken tone:

"With your eyes, Bert."