The It Crowd Puns

A couple days later, the town drunk was walking through the cemetery and heard some strange noise coming from the area where Beethoven was buried.

Terrified, the drunk ran and got the priest to come and listen to it. The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave. Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.

When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards." He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony, and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling." So the magistrate kept listening; "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..." Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate; he stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery,

"My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."

Found in the comment section of a youtube video about Beethoven, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-fFHeTX70Q

If there’s a lot of buildup, its painful. If its in a crowd, you’ll hear groans. But every once it a while when you really let it fly, its the funniest thing any one’s heard that day.

Edit: spelling

One of the basses said, “Wait, last night we came back a couple minutes late and missed our entrance. How can we make sure that doesn’t happen tonight?”

Another bass said, “Don’t worry, I tied the pages of the conductor’s music together with a piece of string between the 3rd and 4th movement. It will take him a couple minutes to get it untied, so that will buy us a couple extra minutes to get back.”

So, they go next door to the bar, and with their newfound plan, they decide to drink even more and again lose track of time.

The third movement comes to a close, and the basses start staggering onto stage as the conductor is struggling with the string in his music. And of course, at this point, the crowd is on the edge of their seats…

It’s the bottom of the ninth, the score is tied, and the basses are loaded.

At the top of the hour, he would bang his face on the bell letting everyone in town know what time it was.

One night after ringing the bell he lost his balance and fell to his death on the sidewalk below.

When the police showed up, a few people were crowded around the body. One policeman asked the woman standing nearest the body, “Do you know who this man is?”

The woman replied, “No, but his face rings a bell.”

Confused, he asks the bartender why this is.

“Well, it’s a promotion we are running. If you can jump up and grab one, you get a free New York Strip dinner, on us! But, if you attempt to do so and miss, you gotta buy one for every person here instead.”

The guy takes a moment to scan the bar, counting up the number of patrons in his head, before turning to the bartender and replying

“Ah, no thanks. The steaks are too high.”

——— Shout out to my dad for telling me this joke dozens of times throughout my life. It never fails to get a laugh outta a new crowd. Thanks Joe, you da best.

I was crucified for it by the crowd.

The company I work for was having their annual Christmas party, but this time on Zoom for obvious reasons, and they asked me to host. I panicked as I had no idea how I would keep the crowds' spirits high. So I came to this sub and used a lot of you guys' dad jokes. Being a dad myself I thought it would work out. And it did! Your jokes killed! I just wanted to say a sincere thank you to all the submissions on this sub. The jokes on here are gold.

I Thoth I'd get more of a Ha, Heh, and a maybe even a Kek out of her, but instead she thinks I'm a Nut! I even got all dressed up in my best Khepri shorts to practice on my material with her. I had hoped she'd be more agreeable to them, but she even started bullying me, grabbed my arm and Hatmehit myself a few times, so I told her to stop with that and Imentet! I don't like being treated like some street Mut!

I tried to tell her, "Babi, please stop!" She, however, was having Nun of it! It was starting to Geb me a bruise! Besides, I hadn't even gotten to my Bastet ones yet! So I told myself Heqet all! I'm gonna tell my jokes, because at least they make me Hapi! She didn't care, just told me to Shu! Said I was a Nemty-headed fool. How rude!

Being a Tefnut to crack, I called for the Aten-tion of my friends so they could at least listen to my whole Set, and busted out with this great Amun-gus joke! I certainly thought it was a Neith little joke, but right off the Bat, they were telling me to Wadjet with the dumb puns, and I need to Wadj-wer I'm taking these jokes. One of them even did a literal face-palm and stood up to leave! I told him to stop that, because I don't like to see Menhit themselves, or anyone for that matter, so thankfully, Hesat down again.

I tried Anhur-ther time, but another friend accused me of Nepit-ism! I told him he clearly never Nu what that word meant to begin with, Aani just spits in my face! Ptah! I really Maat him angry, it seems. Nothing but Ra Ra rabble rabble with him....I wanted to wash his mouth out and see how the Sopdu in fixing that bad attitude of his...

After that treatment, I had no choice but to Pakhet in. Bennu really rough day dealing with all this pushback. Neper again will I tell another pun. Isis the error of my ways now and learned a valuable lesson today: Even the closest people in your life will either like the jokes you Hathor they won't. If they don't, you just have to Reshep your comedy routine to the crowd you're playing to, otherwise, you'll upset your girlfriend so badly, you'll end up sleeping in the Shed!

The friar puts a sign outside that said ‘bell ringer wanted, tryouts Saturday morning’

Saturday morning rolls around, and there were three people lined up out front of the church waiting to try to ring the bell. A tall, muscular man, a skinnier, frail man, and an average sized man.

The friar took them all up one at a time and handed them the hammer to hit the church bells with.

The muscular man grabbed the hammer in one hand, slammed it into the bell, and nearly shattered both with the force behind the swing. The friar said that they’ll have to keep looking.

The frail man could barley pick up the hammer. He swung it pitifully, and managed to ting the bell. The friar just shook his head and chuckled, thanking the man for coming.

The average sized man refused the hammer. Before the friar could question it, the man reared his head back and slammed it into the bell, producing a ring of such pure tone and quality it brought a tear to the friar’s eye. While he was wiping the tear from his face, the man, stumbling from the impact of skull to bell, accidentally tripped and fell off the bell tower to his death.

Well, the townsfolk had heard the beautiful bell, and a small crowd had gathered beneath the bell tower around the man’s body.

Collectively, they said “Who is he Friar? What happened?”

The friar shook his head sadly and said

“I don’t know, but his face rings a bell”

BUT IT ISN’T OVER CAUSE THEY STILL NEED A BELL RINGEE ROUND TWO KIDDOS HERE WE GO!!

So the next morning, when the friar opened the doors in the morning, a man approached him and said “Friar, you don’t know me, but the man who died yesterday was my brother. I’d be honored if you’d let me ring the bell today in his honor.”

The friar nodded and let the new man up the bell tower, handing him the hammer.

With a nightly swing, the man slammed the bell, producing again a high quality ringing tone. Unfortunately, he slipped while off balance and fell off the bell tower too and died.

Again, people were gathered around and they all asked as one “Who is he, Friar, what happened?”

The friar looked at them all in turn and said “I don’t know, but he’s a dead ringer for his brother”

One cold winter's morning he was walking along a country road, when he heard a cry for help from a nearby lake.

He turned to see a little girl struggling in the broken ice in the middle of the lake. She'd been skating and had fallen into the icy water. Without a moment's hesitation the tramp ran onto the ice and slipped and slided over to the little girl. He managed to pull her out without breaking the ice further and he carried her back to the road.

He took off his coat and wrapped the little girl in it and began looking for a car to flag down. A few moments later a huge chauffeur-driven limo pulled up, and who stepped out but the little girl's father - the mayor of the nearby town and a multi-millionaire.

"How can I ever thank you sir?" says the father after putting his daughterinto the warmth of the limo.

"Just name your price - I'm a wealthy man."

"Ahem, well ..." stammered the tramp "...eh I'm a little short of cash, perhaps you could help me out"

"Certainly" says the girl's father and he pulls out his wallet.

"Oh dear" says the father, "I don't carry much cash with me, I only have ten dollars - but come home with me and I'll get more from the safe"

"No! No!" says the tramp, "Why ten dollars is more money than I've seen in my whole life - that will be plenty".

"Well, if you insist" says the father - "now what will you do with your money?"

"Oh that's easy" says the tramp "I've not had a rest in 20 years. I think I'll buy myself a holiday"

"Well good luck" says the father, and he gets into the car and signals his chauffeur to drive home.

"Ten Dollars" thinks the tramp, "I'm rich! I'm rich!", and off he goes to the town, to buy himself a holiday.

He finds a travel agent, walks in - much to the disgust of the staff - and goes up to the desk.

"I'll have one holiday please!"

"Ahem, which holiday would sir like" asked the girl at the desk, forcing a smile.

"Oh, any holiday I don't mind" replied the tramp.

"Well how much money does sir have to spend on sir's holiday?"

"Oh lots - anything up to ten dollars"

"TEN DOLLARS!! You'll never get a holiday for ten dollars" says the girl incredulously.

"Oh dear" said the tramp, "and I was so looking forward to a holiday - I'll probably never get another chance - isn't there anything you can do?"

"Well I don't think so sir, but hold on and I'll check"

The girl goes into the back of the shop, and searches in the deepest, dustiest filing drawers she can find. There - to her amazement -

One day a father and son got recruited into this race where they had to overcome a challenge: build a small toy boxcar that is only powered by an animal. It would be them and another team. The other team was lucky, they had hamsters as pets so naturally chose those. All this son and father had were fish and some small snails.

They got to designing and the irony of using snails for a fast car was not lost on them but they persevered. They discovered that the race track would be down the town hill. They got thinking and discovered that the slime trail the snails left was quite slick so they decided they would grease the cars axles with the slime and it was phenomenal how fast their car would go but they still doubted it would beat the other team. After all they had hamsters AND gravity.

The day of the race came and they saw that the other team had hooked up their hamster wheel to the axels and dangled some lettuce in front. Oh how fast those hamsters ran! Disappointment hung heavy on the father and son but they continued to apply those snails to the axles. The officials came by and marked the racers: an H for hamster and an S for snail. People placed bets and sniggered at how easy of a bet it was. Everybody held chips marked H for the clear winner except the father and son who held seemingly the only S tokens in the crowd. Still the father and son applied those snails to those axles on that S-marked racer.

The time of the race had come! The pistol shot and the cars went. H was in the lead easily right after the pistol. After all, hamsters are excellent accelerators. But something miraculous happened. At the very last moment S caught up, the snail slime finally working it's magic. In the last 50 feet it seemed the snails would win! As they gained and gained the father and son began jumping and whooping and as the snails and the hamsters approached within throwing distance of the finish line the son couldn't contain his excitement and yelled out

"S Car, Go!"

He just stared me in the eyes and said, "it's all about the crowds energy, joule know watt to use"

His best friend, Roy, was known around town for having an adventurous streak that a small town just couldn't satisfy. Roy yearned to travel the world, to rub shoulders with the well-to-do, and to squeeze every drop of excitement he could out of life. While most young folk in town, my grandpa included, were resigned to their lot, Roy was driven by his dream. He worked incredibly hard, taking every hired-hand and handy-man job he could find. He would walk five miles each way to clean a gutter if there was a nickel to be made. His hometown was always spotless, because Roy would pick up every glass bottle he saw to get the deposit back, and every can he found would get turned in for recycling.

The years stretched on. Grandpa settled down with his high school sweetheart in a one-room cottage and had my dad, and not much else. Roy kept hurrying from one job to the next, never spending a dime on a date. Everyone would just roll their eyes and quietly gossip about how poor Roy's obsession was robbing him of a real life.

One day, Roy showed up at Grandpa's house, all decked out in a brand new khaki safari kit, complete with helmet, binoculars, and elephant gun, and announced that he had finally saved up enough for passage to Africa to go big game hunting. He was especially proud of the fine leather boots he was sporting. "Indestructable" he called them, totally impenetrable to water, wind, and snow. No trench-foot for him while he tracked rhinos on the savannah!

Grandpa congratulated Roy on his achievement and wished him bon voyage. Over the next three months, the town felt Roy's absence. Litter lay where it fell, gutters overflowed in heavy rain, small-time farmers rose that bit earlier and bedded that bit later to cover the work Roy used to help with. Of course, the gossipers just turned their chat from how Roy needed a dose of reality to how thoughtless it was of him to just up and leave. Most folks were convinced Roy was gone for good. After all, how could he come back from such a high-falutin' adventure to his tiny, no-account hometown?

But return Roy did, and everyone crowded around at the bar to hear his account of his safari. To their surprise, Roy told them that, for all the time he had been away, he only bagged one trophy that was currently on a slow boat back. It turned out, once Roy got a close-up look at the elephants, rhinos, giraffes, gazelles, and all the fine animals of the African savannah, he lost all heart for hunting. He just couldn't imagi

My brain is so aligned towards punning, I do it automatically when I'm talking to people. Usually I get eye rolls. One time I asked a girl I worked with, who I had always been friends with, if she could give me a hand with something

She said "give me a sec"

I said "take all the secs you want" (now try saying that out loud)

It was a crowded room, and she looked at me like I'd grown antlers or something, and I froze on the spot in embarrassment

Anyway, thought you might find that funny

To beat the crowd.

Edit: All credit goes to u/AleoMoorea, who posted it here.

There was no body, arms or legs to him but he was functioning normal and his parents loved him. On his 21st birthday his dad took him to a bar, bought him a beer and gave it to him to drink. Suddenly his torso grew out of his head. Around him amazed the bar started chanting “Drink, Drink!” His dad got a second beer and gave it to him, this time he grew arms and hands. The stunned crowd all chanted again “Drink, Drink” He got his third beer and drank it himself with his new hands, suddenly legs and feet grew. The crowd applauded and cheered. The son couldn’t believe it and started to run. He ran around in circles and then out of the bar. Unfortunately he ran into the road, got hit by a truck and was killed instantly. The barman looked at his dad, sighed and said “He should have quit while he was a head”

... so they can beat the crowds!

Edit: Wow, this is now my second highest upvoted post ever, and it's not even my own joke! Totally should have credited the video I saw this in: https://www.reddit.com/r/PublicFreakout/comments/h8btkp/protester_has_a_joke_for_the_police_officers/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

Thanks for the laughs and great comment threads, Reddit :)

He has tractors books and toys,tractor wallpaper and pajamas, a tractor lunchbox, you name it.

The kids ambition when he grows up is to drive a tractor.

A few years later and the kid is old enough to drive a tractor for the first time,ends up falling out and breaking his leg. This puts him off tractors for good.

A while later he is out in town and hears screams, "help" comes the screams, "that building is burning,there are people trapped inside,they could die of smoke inhalation" The kid goes up to the building,opens a window and cups his hand like a straw. In one breath he sucks all the smoke out and saves the day.

How did you do that asks the crowd watching,that's superhuman. Oh that's nothing says the kid, I am an ex tractor fan!!!

Person 1: What is your opinion on that one classic pulling the bunny out of the hat trick?

Person 2: I think raises some hare-raising questions.

P1: How so?

P2: It just begs the question of how it affects the rabbits themselves. After all, the magicians were pulling them out without a carrot the world.

P1: You raise at interesting point.

P2: We all know it's because of the secret compartment, you know? And, to minimize the suspiciousness of the hat, the compartment is as small as possible?

P1: Yes

P2: It must be very uncomfurtable to be in that space, and then be grabbed by the ears and raised high in front of a crowd. Like, don't get me wrong, I love magic tricks, but I wand to specify that i honestly feel that this trick in particular is quite inhumane.

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

Not many people are aware of its existence but I assure that it is there all the same. The king of this little land faces a lot of difficulty. He wants to make his kingdom into a sovereign nation but unfortunately they do not have the infrastructure, population, or economy to do so. In fact, this small state is only known for a single export. Thanks to their proximity to some of the finest gold and other metals in the world but total lack of an ability to process those metals on a mass scale, they have been left with only one option. You know the saying; when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Make lemonade they did. This tiny territory is renowned for creating the highest quality watches in the world. No expense is spared and their elite group of craftsmen train for their entire lives from childhood to produce these terrific timepieces. Men of great wealth and taste have been known to trade entire fortunes for just a single one of these watches; that is how valuable they are.

The king knows this and he knows that only a small portion of his populace can ever hope to become one of the respected elite, let alone hold one of their masterpieces in their own hands. Being a very just and fair man, the king ordered the most senior watchmaker in the land to create something the likes of which had never been seen. A watch of such great craftsmanship so as to be above monetary value. The man labored long and hard for many nights to produce the king's watch. When he at last presented the completed work to his lord - in front of the entire nation, no less - he was met with thunderous applause and a warm embrace. He had done it! The king then made a shocking announcement.

"This masterpiece belongs to my people!"

When the roaring of the crowd died down he continued.

"This watch shall be a symbol of my love for all of you. Though I rule over you with supreme authority I do not wish a single one of you to feel that you do not have a voice in the ruling of this nation. From this day on let anyone who doubts my decisions or questions my judgment wear this watch and stand as my equal to voice their concerns. Should even a single one of you think me unfair or wrong in any matter then simply come to my castle and I will present you this token of good faith."

The king made good on his word and from that day on all citizens knew they held the right to challenge their king's rulings. Over time the watch became a symbol of fairness throughout the land. Anyone who wore it

Being tired and weary, the lawyer-onion isn't sure whether to go, but decides he needs cheering up.

So he dresses smartly, puts on his favorite aftershave and heads over to his friend's.

He gets to the party to find it quite a packed affair and heads over to the bar - fighting through crowds of reveller-onions - to get a drink.

As he gets to the bar, he notices in one corner a slightly out-of-place female onion.

She looks a bit sad and being the compassionate onion that he is, he heads over to talk to her.

This is quickly affirmed as a good move, as they hit it off immediately; she was abandoned by her friends shortly after arriving and had been minding her own business ever since, but over a night of drinks and talking, they quickly fall into an infatuation and soon end up spending an oniony night of passion together.

When they awake in the morning, they don't find it awkward and a steady relationship between the two is struck.

This lasts a good while, having its ups and downs like any college relationship, but eventually the day comes when they both graduate.

The two couldn't be happier!

They both get jobs close to one another and move into an apartment together.

One day, the partner-onion is anxiously awaiting the lawyer-onion at home.

She's been ill all day and checking has confirmed her suspicions.

She tearfully - and joyfully - breaks the news to the lawyer-onion; they're going to have a tiny baby-onion together.

A shallot, if you will.

A few days later, this prompts the lawyer-onion to propose to his heretofore girlfriend-onion.

They are soon wed, having a fantastic wedding-day and husband and wife-onions are on top of the world.

The day comes of the birth and no complications - a tiny, healthy baby onion is born to two proud parents.

Seeing this little bundle of oniony love in their arms causes them to fall deeper in love than ever.

Over the next few years, husband-and-wife-onions' lives are fantastic.

He's prospering at work, she's really enjoying taking some time to raise the baby-onion and over time the baby-onion grows into a hale and hearty toddler-onion, who then becomes a child-onion.

One day, the idyll of the onions' lives is shattered when tragedy strikes.

The lawyer-onion (now a partner-onion in a prestigious law firm due to chance and hard work) is at work, and mother-onion is washing dishes and watching her child play in the yard.

She glances away to take another plate and turns her vision back to

So, I decided to sell my vacuum cleaner the other day. It was just gathering dust!

What kind of bagel can fly? A plane one!

I went to a graveyard the other day, it was really crowded. I figure people are dying to get in.

Didja hear about the guy who invented the knock-knock joke? He won the no-bell prize!

What do you call a pointless pachyderm? An Irrelepahnt!

Why couldn't the bicycle stand up by itself? It was two-tired!

Ever hear about the restaurant on the moon? No atmosphere at all.

And to end it all: "I bet if I gave you some thyme you could mustard a response to this complete a-salt on language, but for now we're just beefing around!"

I was sitting at a moderately crowded bar last night enjoying dinner when an older couple came up and sat next to me. We exchanged hellos and I continued eating my jambalaya. After a bit, the husband finally knew what he wanted to drink.

Husband: "Do you have (so and so) beer?"

Bartender: "Hang on a sec, I'll check."

As the bartender walked away, the husband held both of his arms in the air, closing his hands into fists right above his head, a la Steve Holt. After about 30 seconds, and you could tell she really didn't want to, the wife asks what he's doing.

Wife: "Honey, why are your arms in the air?"

Husband: "I'm hanging on."

The wife rolls her eyes and I laugh inappropriately loudly. He grins.

So at this point, the joke has been made. It's over. But no! He's in it for the long haul. He kept his arms in the air for a solid 3 more minutes, just so the bartender could get in on the joke. She returns with his bottle of beer.

Husband: "Can I stop hanging on now?"

Bartender groans.

Wife: "Yes, please."

I admire his dedication. And his taste in beer.

A high schooler wants to ask his best female friend to prom. Because they’ve been friends for so long, he really wants to make his “promposal” special. He talks to his friends, he talks to her friends, and spends days planning the perfect moment. Happily, she says yes!

Over the next couple of months, she sends him different styles and colors of ideas for her dress. He tells honestly that she’s always been beautiful to him, and privately to himself, he is now realizing he has strong feelings for her. He knows he needs to tell her.

The night of the prom, he’s extremely anxious. What if he says something stupid? What if she laughs at him or doesn’t return his feelings? What if she thinks he’s a terrible dancer? All of these thoughts are swirling around in his mind as both their parents fuss over them and make them pose for a million photos.

They get to the prom and he’s even more anxious. It’s dark, it’s loud, it’s crowded. They have to shout to be heard. But she grabs his hand, leads him to the dance floor, and they forget everything and everyone around them. A while later, as the songs have gotten slower, he can feel his heart pounding. He thinks it’s finally the right time. He leans down and whispers the truth in her ear, the truth about having loved her since they met in second grade. She starts to cry happy tears, saying she’s always loved him too, and they kiss. As the song ends and changes to something fast again, he asks her if she’d like to sit and have a drink. She says yes, could he please get her some punch?

He feels like he’s walking on clouds as he goes over to where the drinks and food are laid out. He wants to get back to her right away and hopes he doesn’t have to wait too long at the refreshments table.

He makes his way through the crowd, and is able to get their drinks and return to his waiting love within just a couple of minutes. Because, would you believe it?

There was no punch line.

Halfway through the show, the music stops and Bono stands middle stage clapping his hands every few seconds. "Every time I clap my hands, a child in Africa dies" Without missing a beat, from somewhere in the front of the crowd a man bellows out in a thick Irish accent: "Well stop fucking doing it ya evil bastard!"

20 Was in the lead "24 the win!" The crowd shouted. Sadly 30 challenged him and 31. But they realized it was a tie! Because 0, 1, 2! And they all 8 together, The end.

Some of them were pretty strange: only he could understand them and explaining the 'pun' to somebody else would take like half an hour. Anyway-

He said, "So I'll go first?"

I said sure.

I think he took "pun-a-thon" a bit too literally - he took out a marker and drew a point, and then he kept drawing this straight line (he's good at drawing straight lines) while taking how many ever steps back. I for one was concerned, because first off I didn't know how long I'd have to stick around for this, and second of all, I didn't know if I could clean the mess he'd inevitably leave behind.

He kept drawing this line! We stepped out of my living room, then my apartment which was on ground-level, and he kept drawing it. He drew his line all the way through the corridor, up until the entrance to the building, and when I kept asking him if he's done yet, he didn't say a word. I had to keep subtly reassuring security and everyone who was staring at my friend hunched over like that robot from Wall-E.

He stepped out of the building and kept on drawing his line. At this point I was trying to guess what the hell is the outcome. I kept screaming punchlines at him like "is this where you draw the line?", "are you going to punch me after this so this is a punchline?" and shit like that. There were people following us and two were taking videos and it was really fucking uncomfortable.

Right after he was outside the building and the premises, he started to draw this stunning drawing of the building right on the pavement. It was almost magical, as if he had been commissioned to make an ad for my place but for a million bucks. At this point the people who were following us didn't even get pissed off because they were so engrossed in his drawing. I was surprised the marker kept going on.

After about 20 minutes - he was a real quick draw (no pun intended) - he stood up and a crowd of two dozen clapped and cheered for him.

I told him, "Dude that looks fucking amazing, but I thought we were in a pun-a-thon. Why such a long set-up?"

He replied, "Yeah it was pretty drawn out."

(for more drawn-out jokes like this, visit r/feghoot!)

and he just stands there, surveying the assemblage as the room goes quiet. And suddenly he yells, "All you dirty bastards, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

And the crowd rushing the exists raises a cloud of dust, obscuring vision. When it settled, the gunslinger notices one little wizened old man tucked in a corner beside the piano. The gunslinger walks over, his spurs making a small jingling sound. He stands in front of the still-seated old man. "WELL?," he demands.

The old man looks up earnestly into the gunslinger's face, "Sure was a lot of 'em, wasn't ther?".

Okay so the animals have been on the ark for thirty days and thirty nights and frankly they are getting bored. So to provide entertainment B-Deck challenges C-Deck to a game of football. They get it all set up and begin play. B-Deck makes some early gains but C-Deck is unstoppable. They have Rhinoceros and once he gets going you cant stop him. Soon the first half is over and the score is 24-7. The second half begins and while in the huddle Rhinoceros looks over at B-Decks defensive line and sees Centipede on their defensive line. "Give me the ball," he says, "There aren't going to be any centipedes in the new world because I'm crushing this one right here and right now" The Center snaps the ball and the quarterback hands it off to Rhinoceros who begins charging down Centipede. Centipede rears up grabs Rhinoceros by the legs and SLAMS him to the deck. Ball pops loose, centipede grabs the ball. He's rushing down the field weaving in and out and TOUCHDOWN!!! The crowd goes wild! C-Deck's captain, Lion rushes over and says, "Centipede that was amazing! Where were you in the first half?" "Well I was lacing my shoes."

So at the reception it was my turn to give a speech and it went like this:

"I'm going to start this off with a couple jokes. First, it was a rather emotional wedding right? I mean, my mom was crying, Charity was crying, hell even the cake was in tiers! (many groans throughout the crowd) Second joke, to some marriage is just a word, to others, a sentence."

Besides all the groaning in the crowd I looked at my dad and saw that he was laughing so hard that he turned red and had tears in his eyes, that's how I knew they were good quality dadjokes.

In 1827, after Beethoven died, he was buried outside the local church, in the graveyard, and people came to pay their respects frequently.

One morning, about a week after the funeral, two girls came to leave some flowers on his grave, only to hear strange, unearthly sounds coming from it. Creeped out, they called for the local Paranormal Investigator.

The Investigator arrived an hour later, and with him, a small crowd, who had come to see what was happening to the composer’s grave.

Suddenly, one member of the crowd exclaimed, “I recognise that sound! It’s his 9th Symphony, backwards!”

Soon after, another said, “and that’s his 8th, backwards!”

After leaning closer to the grave to inspect this for himself, the Investigator straightened himself up, gave a soft chuckle, and said:

“Never fear, ladies and gentlemen! Beethoven’s just decomposing.”

Decorating a cardboard boat tomorrow (made it today) and thinking of covering it with different puns. The name shall be Admiralable Saboateur if I go this route, but I'm not sure how to incorporate it all together to make it a theme. I also thought of Aquadisiac and "Are you my armama?" but I'm not sure if the crowd would get the armada reference either. Any boat puns are appreciated!

She asked the pastor of a local church if he knew of any houses with rooms to rent that were close to town, but out in the country. The pastor kindly drove her out to see a house with a room to rent. She loved the house and decided to rent the room. Then, the lady returned to her home in England to make her final preparations to move to Switzerland.

When she arrived back home, the thought occurred to her that she had not seen a “W.C.” in the room or even down the hall. (A W.C. is short for “water closet” and is what the English call a toilet.) So she immediately emailed the pastor to ask him where the “W.C.” is located.

The Swiss pastor had never heard of a “W.C.,” and so he Googled the abbreviation and found an article titled “Wayside Chapels.” Thinking that the English lady was asking about a country church to attend near her new home, the pastor responded as follows:

Ms. Smith,

I look forward to your move. Regarding your question about the location of the W.C., the closest W.C. is situated only two miles from the room you have rented, in the center of a beautiful grove of pine trees. The W.C. has a maximum occupancy of 229 people, but not that many people usually go on weekdays. I suggest you plan to go on Thursday evenings when there is a sing-along. The acoustics are remarkable and the happy sounds of so many people echo throughout the W.C.

Sunday mornings are extremely crowded. The locals tend to arrive early and many bring their lunches to make a day of it. Those who arrive just in time can usually be squeezed into the W.C. before things start, but not always. Best to go early if you can!

It may interest you to know that my own daughter was married in the W.C. and it was there that she met her husband. I remember how everyone crowded in to sit close to the bride and groom. There were two people to a seat ordinarily occupied by one, but our friends and family were happy to share.  I will admit that my wife and I felt particularly relieved when it was over. We were truly wiped out.

Because of my responsibilities in town, I can’t go as often as I used to. In fact, I haven’t been in well over a year. I can tell you I really miss regularly going to the W.C. Let’s plan on going together for your first visit. I can reserve us seats where you will be seen by all.

Sincerely,

Pastor Kurt Meier

When Beethoven passed away, he was buried in a churchyard. A couple days later, the town drunk was walking through the cemetery and heard some strange noise coming from the area where Beethoven was buried. Terrified, the drunk ran and got the priest to come and listen to it. The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave. Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.

When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."

He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony, and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling." So the magistrate kept listening; "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..."

Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate; he stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery, "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."

The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave.

Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.

When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."

He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."

So the magistrate kept listening, "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..."

Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate.

He stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery, "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."

The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave.

Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.

When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."

He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony, and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."

So the magistrate kept listening, "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..."

Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate.

He stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery, "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."

>!They do it to beat the crowds!!<