The Rifles Puns

He was the anti-gunist.

That’s why in the Navy, the captain goes down with the ship.

Because it was fired

That's what I get for buying it from an overstock sale.

I feel so aimless...

It was in good shape having only been dropped twice in surrender.

It ensures I get a good bang for my Buck.

You know what they say, love at first sight.

Assault rifle. (Credit to my wife)

A salt rifle

A stock broker

I said "Going out on a limb here, but on your bruised leg."

She wasn't pleased.

He was chatting casually with my brother-in-law (they are neighbors) to say he was done with smart phones.

The older man was irate as AT&T was charging him extra fees because he was old!

My brother-in-law was astounded. He asked the older man what on earth he means by that. I mean, how could a company, this day in age, be so open about charging people extra fees in an ageist way...?

The older man shuffles into the next room and, after a few minutes of rifling around his stacks of papers, he brings back an invoice to my brother-in-law.

Waving it in his face, the older man says, "Look! Right here! It says right here 'Over Age' fee!"

He told me that with his most accurate rifle/ammo he practices shooting olives at 200 yards away and can usually get 9 out of 10 of them.

I replied, “Wow, you can hit almost olive them.”

I’m thinking I need to stop with the dad jokes with someone who can shoot olives at 200 yards!!

The Rifle Tower 😩

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

A physicist, an engineer and a statistician go on a hunting trip. They see a deer in a clearing. The physicist calculates the distance to the target, the velocity and drop of the bullet, he fires but misses five feet to the left.

The engineer says he forgot to account for the wind, takes the rifle, aims and misses five feet to the right. The statistician claps and says "we got him!".

When he gets to the place where he’s supposed to pick up his rifle the man tells him that he just ran out. “If you need to shoot just say ‘BANGITY BANG BANGITY BANG!'” he says. Bummed out and little confused, the guy moves on to the next area where he’s supposed to pick up the bayonet. But the next man is out too. “If you need to stab someone just go, ‘STICKITY STICK STICKITY STICK!'” he says. Dejected and wondering what the heck he signed up for, the guy jumps into the next truck on its way to the front where there’s a battle raging on.

Side by side with the rest of the soldiers in his unit, the guy advances on the enemy position. As soon as he sees the enemy, he shouts, “BANGITY BANG BANGITY BANG!!” Amazingly, the enemy soldier drops to the ground. Encouraged by his success he charges the next two enemy soldiers and goes, “STICKITY STICK STICKITY STICK!” They both immediately collapse in front of him. This is incredible, he thinks, I’ve become unstoppable.

So when he sees his next foe way off in the distance, he shouts, “BANGITY BANG BANGITY BANG!” at him. He waits for him to fall, but nothing happens. The guy charges his unfazed adversary next and goes “STICKITY STICK STICKITY STICK!” Again he thinks the man will fall and again nothing happens. “Why wont you drop?” the guy says. The enemy soldier knocks him down and responds, “TANKITY TANK TANKITY TANK!”

I managed to lose my rifle when I was in the army. I had to pay $855 to cover the loss.   I’m starting to understand why a Navy captain always goes down with his ship.

My friends Dad got a salt shotgun for Christmas to kill flies with.

Dad: Hey guys, if the cops come to the door and if they ask if we have any weapons, we can tell them we have an A-salt rifle.

Me, my dad, and my little brother were in the backyard shooting beer cans with a .45-70 rifle. When we came back in I started talking to some friends on Skype. My dad comes in to my room and tells me to ask my friends if they've ever shot a .45-70. When I told them we were shooting beer cans, my dad says "I guess you can say it was alcohol abuse.". Cue simultaneous groans from friends.