A list of puns related to "The Door In The Floor"
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡Me: I need to go get something from the car
Son: I want to come!
Me: no, just wait for me please
I come back inside to a digital scale sitting on the floor in front of the door
Son: okay, I weighted for you
I'm such a proud grampa
I politely told him he had the wrong number and that I hoped he found the right number.
A few hours later the doorbell rang so, I went and answered, and it was an elderly fellow. I asked how I might help him, and he replied that he was sure his son lived at this address. I assured him that it was only my wife and I, asled if he was the respectable chap whom had called me earlier. He said yes,, and insisted this was his son's home. Well, what are you gonna do? So, I told him to come on in and see for himself.
We walked around the house, main floor, basement, second floor, and he wanted wanted go into the attic. I didn't think he would make it up the steep stairs of the pull down hatch. So, I went up amd told him there was nothing.
Disappointed, the elderly fellow walked to the door, and said, "well, looks like yer gonna have to throw me out, because I don't want to leave".
Well that's not gonna fly, my wife would not be happy to return home from work and see a strange old man refusing refusing leave.
I said yes, I am throwing you out sir. So, I opened the door, amd ushered him out. He shuffled down the walk, to the curb and around the corner.
30 minutes later, the doorbell rang again, so, I answered it. And believe it or not, it was the elderly man again. He said he wanted to apologize, did so, then left.
As he was walking away I put the pieces together of what had happened. This elderly fellow, having rung my doorbell, having me throwhim out, and his final return, I realized, a boomer rang me, I threw him out, and he came back.
Thought of this one a while ago and had forgotten it.Yer welcome. :)
Having a bit of a discipline issue with my daughter... she'll bring a pile of sand inside and make what she calls her "land". It's sand arranged in a flattish layer, with toy animals and her lego house (Friends^TM , why she no like diggers and helicopters and whatever, why she gotta be so girly??). She doesn't like getting her hand dirty while she's doing it, wears a glove to keep clean, so you'd think she could understand the concept that I don't like the floor getting dirty... but no, she doesn't give a shit.
Had her third birthday party recently, and gave her a Skye (Paw Patrol) plushy, she loves it. Because it's her newest and most favourite toy in the whole world, and because it was for her birthday, we can't confiscate it no matter what.
Very next day, she makes her land again, Skye's there at the side - she's too big to sit in the middle, it would dominate all the plastic dinosaurs and lego Friends people (not the usual mini-figs, they're a bit more anatomically correct, anyway that's not important right now). So I'm all angry and "why you keep doing this", take the glove off her and sweep up the sand. Put her in the time out cage for a bit. Well, we call it the cage, it's just a cupboard under the stairs which is a bit shorter than her so she has to sit there if she doesn't want to bump her head. Throw her in there for one minute per year of age, is the standard procedure.
Anyway, as we close the door she starts singing...
Take my glove
Take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care
I'm still three
You can't take this Skye from me
He sat at the bar and after he had had quite a few beers he decides its best he went home, he stood up and fell straight to floor, he tried a few times and he fell everytime, so he decided to drag himself home and fell asleep on the floor as soon as he got in the door
In the morning his wife sees him there on the floor and says did you forget your wheelchair again!
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡Before you let your kids get a puppy, take the Puppy Test.
Best taken in the autumn or mid winter.
RETIRED HUSBAND
After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to WalMart. Unfortunately, like most men; I found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like most women - she loves to browse. Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter, from the local WalMart:
Dear Mrs. Harris:
Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion, in our store.
We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to, ban both of you from the store.
Our complaints against your husband, Mr. Harris, are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras:
June 15: He took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other people's carts when they weren't looking.
July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.
July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.
July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, 'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away'. This caused the employee to leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her Supervisor that in turn resulted with a union grievance, causing management to lose time and costing the company money. We don't have a Code 3.
August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&Ms on layaway.
August 14: Moved a, 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.
August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the children shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department to which twenty children obliged.
August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?' EMTs were called.
September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.
September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.
October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while, loudly humming the, 'Mission Impossible' theme.
October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his, 'Madonna Look' using different sizes of funnels.
October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'
October 22: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed;
'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs in a pond? A: Bob
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs under a car? A: Jack
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs in your mailbox? A: Bill
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs hanging on a wall? A: Art
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs in a pot? A: Stu
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs sitting on a grill? A: Frank
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs in a pile of leaves? A: Rustle
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs in a pot hole? A: Phil
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs at the bottom of a hole? A: Doug
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs at the bottom of a not as deep hole? A: Douglas
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs at your front door? A: Matt
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs on the floor at a barbershop? A: Harry
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs that works at a brewery? A: Bud
Q: What do you call a man with no arms or legs water-skiing? A: Skip
Note: Quality Very Varying (I see what I did there) and sometimes subject to specialist knowledge. So I apologise in advance. Shame me with your better puns.
While I was languishing in the Language Centre, doing some semantics antics and considering how all the other linguistics students despised and derided me, I was accosted by a stout man with large glasses who made me a preposition. It was that I should collect terrible puns, to do with linguistics, in order to ingratiate myself yet further with the other linguistics students (including even the phonetics fanatics).
I'm struggling to think of a pun to do with grammaticality that both makes sense and "Is grandma tickly?" correct. I'm also stuck on 'morphologician'. (I'm not actually sure that's a particularly logical word for the subject, though I guess that's more for, er, more for a logician to worry about.)
The problem I have with writing about phonological variation is that one is constantly forced to choose between being fun or logical - very Asian!I always get in trouble with electricians, they think I'm calling them a 'dialectician' whereas in fact I'm just saying "Die, electrician."
I like pscycholinguistics – the only department of linguistics where it’s acceptable to wear a cycle helmet. My Australian accent is terrible but I like to think my Sath Efrican one is predicate. My favourite accent is Received Pronunciation, because it is the accent chiefly used by invisible Japanese people who are ordered online. When the first recipient of an invisible Japanese person got the parcel, they wrote a complaint saying "Received but can't see Asian" and the name stuck.
Why did the speakers whose native languages weren't English, but whose only shared language was English, but they weren't very good at it and kept on having to stop to think about it, stop talking to one another? They came to an agreement. (Get it? If not, write your answer on a pastecard and paste it to the below address.)
What did the 'a' say to the 'the'? "You definitely are ticklish, 'the'!"
Why was the small man eaten by the large bear, which was proportionately bigger than him? It had, er, relative claws.
I think the reason there are so many speakers of Russian is because they all partake in an activity called "copulae shun". (Ok, ok, I know, that was Pushkin it.)
I know a man called Hillary who can, might, should, did, must, shall and will ride an ox. We call him "Ox Hillary".
I always think the verb 'to be' in the senten
... keep reading on reddit ➡So, my wife and I decided to move this freestanding shelf thing to our dining area. However, we have wood floors, so pretty much anything that's put there (table, chairs) has to have these felt pads on the bottom so it doesn't scratch up the floor. Even if this won't get moved around much, if at all, I felt better about putting the pads on the bottom of this shelf as well, just in case.
My wife has been bugging me to do it for a while, but you know, laziness. Finally, earlier tonight, I cut the felt sheets to size, stuck them on the shelf, and put it where it belongs. When I was done, I called my wife over. "I'm in bed!" "It'll be quick, I promise!" groan "You don't even have to come downstairs, you can see it from the hallway outside the bedroom door!"
Finally she came out, with a "this had better be good" look on her face. I pointed to the shelf, and proudly declared that "I felt up this rack!"
Worth it.
The other day, my 2 year old son and I went to visit my dad at his new job as a college teacher. As he was giving us a tour, we stopped by the office of the computer science professor to chat. My son saw some computer monitors on the floor in his office and asked "what's that?" To which the computer professor, who is a grandpa himself, replied "those are monitors. Maybe I should set them outside my door, then they'd be HALL monitors!" We three dad's got a good chuckle out of that. My toddler, not so much.
My parents visited me last weekend. Short on ideas, we decided to hit up a widely-respected art museum. They had some new exhibitions, some of which were a little outside our personal tastes and expectations.
We walked into a photography exhibit and saw, along one wall, a sheet of green. This sheet of green was a little higher and taller than the average door, and stretched all the way down that bit of wall plus a few feet onto the floor.
"Oh," I said, "a green screen. That's kind of a neat little thing to have here. Sort of an homage to that style of film, I guess?"
Little did I know. In hindsight, I don't know why I expected anything different.
My father and I approached the plaque beside it. There we learned the truth: This was not a green screen. No. No, this was a specially printed photograph.
A photograph... of a green screen.
There we stood, astonished at the audacity of the thing before us. "My God," I said aloud, "This, right here, this is something else. This is just plain genius. Can you imagine getting money for something like this? Why didn't we come up with this? This is gold!"
To which my dad simply responded, "No, son...
... it's green."
So when I was cooking in the kitchen (which is very narrow and small) I accidentally brushed up on a loosely closed tin can of Door Varnish spilling it all everywhere. I had to explain after I tried to clean it up to my mother and brother.
Me: So yeah, I spilled the whole can of door varnish on the kitchen floor and the hallway, it's going to hard to walk around for a little while.
My Brother: changes conversation Anyways are you free tomorrow, Mum?
My Mother: Yes, but first we must get out of this sticky situation.
Our cat at our small business killed a bird and left it in the floor. My dad grabbed it and tossed it out the front door onto the parking lot. I then asked him to toss it over the fence into our landlords unkempt field. The following text convo happened several hours later.
http://i.imgur.com/uOLsC46.jpg
What do you call a guy who lays on the floor outside your door?
Matt
What do you call a guy who just floats in water?
Bob
What do you call a lady who has one leg shorter than the other leg?
Eileen
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡They snuck from their beds in the middle of the night and met in the gloomy darkness in front of the house, shivering in the cold.
The first boy said in a loud whisper, "You guys bring anything?" He slid a gun out of his pocket. The second boy nodded and revealed a knife. The third boy pulled out a flashlight.
"You didn't bring a weapon?" the first boy asked. He shrugged and replied, "Sorry". And as if to prove it, he turned his pockets out to show nothing but stray lint and a pack of cough drops.
They crept in. The door shut behind them. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. The flash light clicked on. 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 on the other side, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a dead 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 found a fully set, ornate dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal goblets, pitchers and silverware adorned the table. Spiders crept over 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 hel
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