The Way I See It Puns

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Tortoise

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

“It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”

Dave was bragging to his boss one day,

"You know, I know everyone famous there is to know"

"Go on - Just name someone, anyone, and I bet that know them"

Tired of his boasting, his boss decides to call Dave's bluff,

"OK, Dave, how about Tom Cruise?"

"Not a problem boss"

"Tom and I are old friends, and I can prove it"

So Dave and his boss fly out to Hollywood and knock on Tom Cruise's door.

Tom Cruise is at home and answers the door himself and shouts,

"Dave! What's happening?"

"Great to see you!"

"Come on in for a beer!

Although shocked and more than a little impressed, Dave's boss is still sceptical and he tells Dave that he thinks him knowing Cruise was just pure luck.

"No, no, just name anyone else then"

Dave says.

"President Biden!"

His boss quickly retorts.

"Yup"

Dave says, "We're buddies from years ago"

"Let's fly out to Washington and I'll show you"

So they fly out to Washington and go on the Whitehouse tour"

"While walking through the White House, Biden himself appears, spots Dave on the tour and motions him and his boss over, saying,

"Dave, what a surprise,it's great to see you again after all this time"

"I was just on my way to a meeting but you and your friend come on in and let's have a cup of coffee first and catch up"

After they leave the White House grounds the boss tells Dave that he's still not entirely convinced.

Dave again implores him to name another famous person.

After thinking about it for a long timethe boss replies with,

"The Pope!"

"Sure thing!"

Says Dave,

"I've known the Pope for years - since before he became Pope in fact"

So off they fly to Rome.

Dave and his boss are assembled with the masses in Saint Peter's Square at the Vatican.

Dave says,

"This will never work"

"I can't catch the Pope's eye among all these people"

"Tell you what, I know all the Pope's guards here as well so let me just go upstairs and I'll come out on the balcony with the Pope."

Sure enough, half an hour later Dave emerges with the Pope on the balcony, but by the time Dave returns, he finds that his boss has had a heart attack and is surrounded by paramedics.

Making his way to his boss' side, Dave asks him,

"What happened?"

His boss looks up and says,

"It was the final straw"

"You and the Pope came out on the balcony and a Japanese tourist next to me said, to me... "

"Who the hell is that on the balcony with Dave?"

My daughter and I have been trading these. Here is our current list - would love to hear more!

1. I lost my job at the chess factory. I couldn’t work knights.
2. I lost my job at the bank. A lady asked me to check her balance so I pushed her over.
3. I lost my job at the keyboard factory. I wasn’t putting in enough shifts.
4. I lost my job at the calendar factory. I took too many days off.
5. I lost my job as a maze designed. I got lost in my work.
6. I lost my job as an electrician. I was shocked!
7. I lost my job as a psychic. I didn’t see it coming!
8. I lost my job at the funeral home. Apparently, the options are “cremation” or “burial,” not “smoking” or “non-smoking.”
9. I lost my job as an astronomer. I thought my work was looking up!
10. I lost my job as a cyber criminal. I couldn’t hack it.
11. I lost my job as a human cannonball. I got fired!
12. I lost my job as a garbage collector. I had no training but I thought I would pick it up as I go.
13. I lost my job as a math teacher, same job I’ve had since 2000. That’s 46 years down the drain!
14. I lost my job in pool maintenance. It was too draining.
15. I lost my job as a fisherman. I didn’t make enough net income.
16. I lost my job as a baker. I really kneaded the dough!
17. I lost my job as a historian. There was no future in it.
18. I lost my job as a tour guide in Australia. I did not have the right koalafications.
19. I lost my job at the upholstery repair shop. I may never recover.
20. I lost my job as a massage therapist. I rubbed people the wrong way.
21. I lost my job as a seamstress. And I tried sew hard.
22. I lost my job as a musician. I just wasn’t noteworthy.
23. I lost my job at the unemployment office. And I still need to go back there tomorrow.
24. I lost my job feeding giraffes. I just wasn’t up to it.
25. I lost my job as a water slide attendant. My career is going down the tubes.
26. I lost my job at the paper shredding factory. It was a tearable job.
27. I lost my job as a drummer. I’m sure there will be repercussions.
28. I lost my job as a pole vaulter. I'll never get over it.
29. I lost my job as a pet groomer. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
30. I lost my job as a pastry tester. That job was a piece of cake.
31. I lost my job as a mirror inspector. I could see myself doing that for a long time.
32. I lost my job as a yoga instructor. I bent over backwards for them.
33. I lost my job at Dunkin. It’s ok, I was fed up wit

I am anti-vax and I don’t care what you think. I am absolutely sick and tired of seeing people that are anti-vax getting ridiculed and bullied on Reddit because of their choice.

You need to understand we have good reason to feel this way and that by simply attacking us or belittling us will not change our minds. We will not be silenced.

I for one will never have another one again. Not a chance in hell, I don’t care what you say to try and convince me, I’ve fallen for that trap too many times before.

They are absolutely the worst brand of vacuum cleaner ever.

It’s Hoover or Dyson all the way for me!

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

So there was a man who considered himself the greatest fighter in the world. Every time he got in a fight growing up, he'd win, and it would never even be close. Eventually he ran out of people in town to fight, and he decided that he'd travel the world, looking for all the best fighters, and beat them in combat.

He travels to Japan, China, India, Russia, France, Ireland, going all about the world, fighting everyone who thinks they're the best fighters in the world- and beats them easily. There's no real sense of competition, he just defeats every challenger in humiliating fashion.

But travelling the world looking for the best fighters takes a lot of time, and there's always another person thinking that they're the best fighter in the world, so he issues a challenge to anyone in the world who thinks that they're the best fighter to come to his house and fight.

The day arrives, and HUNDREDS of people have shown up. All of the best practitioners of all the world's martial arts have shown up. There's a group of judoka from Japan, Israeli Krav Maga artists stretching out on one side of the room, the Muay Thai artists are doing light striking to warm up- everyone seems represented here. The guy who started all this says "OK, there are a lot of you here, and the only way we'll be able to finish this today is if we group you all up by discipline, you all form a line, and I'll beat each of you in turn."

So he starts with the wrestlers, who line up one at a time. One at a time they come at him, and none of them last longer than a minute before having their shoulders pinned to the ground. Not only do they all get beaten, but it seems like this guy is actually winning his fights faster as the day goes on! Some of the fighters from the other disciplines watch this display, and they start leaving.

The guy looks at his watch, and realizes that three hours have gone by in fighting the wrestlers. So he gestures to the Muay Thai artists and says "I'll now fight you, but I'll fight you four at a time!" The Muay Thai fighters figure they can knock this guy out quickly, then settle the honor of who the best fighter is amongst themselves, so they line up four by four, rush in, and in a flurry of elbows and knees, they all end up knocked out on the ground. Four by four the Muay Thai fighters rush in, only for this guy to remain standing after all of them. This is intimidating to the other fighters who are watching, and more people start heading home.

H

Because Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.

"I've got something in my mouth!"

"No you don't."

"I've got something in my mooouuuth"

"No you don't, you better not" turns around in passenger seat of car to look at her

"See!!! It's my tongue!!!"

...little shit bird.

She is 3 years old and we were on our way to the hospital for her chemotherapy treatment. My daughter will become either a nurse, Dr, or a comedian when she is grown.

Ethel lived with her parents on one side of town, and Dan had an apartment to himself on the other side. Ethel tried to visit Dan as often as she could but it was two buses each way to visit Dan. Ethel decided to get a car to make the trip to see Dan easier. Do you know what sort of car she got? Sedan.

We’ve been in a bad joke email war for some time now. It’s been so long, I don’t remember how it started. It may have happened when I moved out after staying with him and my mom for a while.

Long story short: I’ve got a lot of dad jokes to share with y’all, because we are constantly sending “dad jokes” to each other. And I have hundreds of jokes that are LITERALLY from my dad.

All the best jokes? They are headed your way!

Here’s some to get you started. I am copying and pasting them exactly as he writes in the email so you can get the full “dad” effect. He’s 72.

Everyone who can, take a moment out of your day to call your dad.

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the male pumpkin told the female pumpkin ................you look gourdish today boo me love dad

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Exaggeration is a billion times better than understatement..........................love, dad

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Is it true that if you teach a wolf to meditate it becomes an "aware wolf" ?

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If swimming is good for your figure how do you explain whales?

Bad aina, I almost didn't send it.......................................Love dad

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Have a good night everyone, and see you soon!

My wife groans at most of the jokes, but she also laughs. The way I see it the jokes may be kind of dumb, but they are totally worth it if they make you smile.

So, I took the family to Monterey this past weekend. Went to the aquarium, and when it came time for me to choose something to do, I decided to take them to pebble beach. Beautiful views, great time all around. On the drive, I kept explaining to the 8 year old how everything and everyone around us were rich.

So, we’re leaving the beach, and on the way out past the putting greens of the golf course, we see a family of deer. The kid asks, hey, are the deer rich out here as well?

I replied no son, probably worth a few bucks.

Heard this one years ago. Not OC

There's a man who loves tractors. Has tractor bed sheets tractor wallpaper. He loves them.

One day his wife says his obsession is getting in the way of their relationship so he is given an ultimatum. Either the tractor stuff goes or she does.

He takes a long walk to think it over and eventually decides to get rid of the tractor stuff.

A few years later he is walking down the road when he sees a building on fire and people still inside screaming from the windows. He runs up to the letterbox. Puts his mouth over the letterbox and sucks out all the bad fumes.

After the people were saved the fireman asks him how he saved all the people inside.

The man replies: I'm an ex tractor fan

He asks his driver on his way to the airport if he could drive around for a while because they have time to kill and he hasn't driven a car since becoming the pope.

Naturally, he's a bit rusty, so he's driving poorly, when suddenly he sees police lights behind him. He pulls over and when the officer comes up to the window his eyes go wide. He says to the pope "Hold on for a minute," and goes back to his car to radio the chief.

Cop: "Chief we have a situation. I've pulled over an important figure."

Chief: "How important? A governor or something?"

Cop: "No sir. He's bigger."

Chief: "So, what? a celebrity or something?"

Cop: "More important, sir."

Chief: "A major politician?"

Cop: "No sir, he's much more important."

Chief: "WELL WHO IS IT!?"

Cop: "Well actually I'm not sure. But the pope's his driver."

...and sees this guy with a giraffe on a lead.

He walks up to the guy and says, "Excuse me, that's a wild animal. You can't be walking him around the streets."

"It's OK, Officer," the man replies, "We're on our way to the zoo right now."

"OK, carry on then, " says the policeman.

The next day the policeman is walking down the street again and sees the guy with the Giraffe.

"Hey!, " he shouts, "I thought you were taking that Giraffe to the zoo!"

"I did!" replies the man, "Now I'm taking him to the cinema!"

I'm Australian, in Australia, specifically southern Australia. Very specifically, southern Victoria. Anyway. I took a long drive on Friday, out to Halls Gap, which is a beautiful part of the world. Oddly, I noticed along the way a significant amount of dead crows on the side of the road. Now I'm of county stock, and I know well that crows (although technically ravens I believe) are an extraordinarily intelligent bird, and it's very rare that you see one fallen by the roadside. As such, it was obvious to me as unusual. So I looked it up, and as it happened there'd been a study conducted regarding the very road I'd driven down. Turns out, this particular road was notorious for dead crows on account of two very basic reasons, the first, it's proximity to bushland which ensured a considerable amount of regular road kill (possums, kangaroos, etcetera) and second, the road was a significant trucking route. It follows logic, although I did not see it at the time, that it was determined that the trucks, rather than the cars which used the road were to blame regarding the amount of dead crows. How so, you ask? I, too, was interested to know. You see, the front of the average car in these modern times is made of plastic and paint whereas the Australian cross-country truck is equipped with a large alloy bullbar. A crow, when hit by a car will have chips of paint transferred onto its feathers whereas one downed by a truck will have none. Now crows are not usually struck by vehicles, as they are a very intelligent bird. As such, they employ a sentry bird, which looks out as the others eat from the road, and warns them of any approaching danger. Such is the intelligence of the crows! So why should they perish by truck in such numbers? The answer amazed me. As it turns out, a sentry crow sees the approaching vehicle and calls to his friends CAR! CAR! CAR! but he can't say truck

... and you still hate him now. But now he's an official resident of Florida and I may see him differently now. I've seen a lot of hate thrown his way, but this guy is a consistent winner and an overachiever. That's what the people who support him love about him. Yes, there have been some scandals. Yes, there have been some lies and maybe a few times he's twisted the truth to make himself look better. He's out there everyday proving those haters wrong time after time. Call it jealously, call it envy. Some people just can't handle how successful he is and how much money he has. They could even be jealous that he's got a hot, foreign model as his wife. You may not have wanted him in this role, but he's there now and there is nothing you or I can do about it. I know it'll possibly get worse over the next several days, but like him or not, Tom Brady is turning things around in Tampa Bay.

She grabs a cup of hot cocoa and watches through the window as he fills the bucket up with water and races from the back of the house all the way out to the front yard and out of sight. She bundles up and goes outside to get a closer look and sees that he’s cleared the snow from the sidewalk. She watches as he takes his bucket of water and pours it out on the cold concrete. She’s puzzled for a second and then says:

Icy, what you did there.

My dad worked in construction for most of his life, and because he worked with his hands, he sacrificed many watches. But if you don't have a watch, how are you to tell time? My dad has a great sense of humor and is always thinking of new ways to do things to make them more practical or thinking of ways to change things to make them work better for him. So after spending way too much money on a heavy duty watch that inevitably broke on him, he came up with a better solution.

He used the working part of a clock and stuck it on the inside rim of his hat, so if he wanted to know what the time was, he just had to look up. Simple. And the way his hat was, you couldn't see the clock when looking at him unless you were underneath him and looking up.

And then came the funny part. Every time he was asked what time it was, he would look up at the sun, scan the horizon, pretend to do a math equation in his head, and tell them the exact time down to the minute. I've witnessed him doing this a few times but never gave it away. The look of surprise and confusion this gave people was priceless.

My dad had done other funny things like this, but this was by far the funniest.

He shows it to his son, all proud, and says : "You see, son, when you put a donkey in this end of the machine, a sausage will automatically come out." The son, very confused, asks : "But dad, is there a way to do the opposite, insert a sausage and a donkey comes out?" The father proudly answers : "Yes son, your mom."

"Hey, barkeep!" he says, struggling to keep control of his quarry. "Any room for me and my friends?"

The bartender smiles and sets down some plastic cups. The man plops his friends inside, but the cups are too small.

"Um...barkeep?" the man says, pulling them out again. The bartender reaches for some larger mugs, but as he places them next to the cups, it becomes obvious that even these will be too small for the pigs.

Seeing the man struggle to continue holding them, the bartender runs to the kitchen for help.

A cook emerges, holding several large measuring cups. "Sorry, I just used these to make a batch of cheese dip, but they're all yours!"

The man carefully plops each pig into its respective gooey yellow cup.

Arms exhausted, breathing heavily, he drops into a stool at the end of the bar, between his tiny friends and a beautiful girl.

He glances her way, gasping coyly. "Hey...I'm...Tom."

She smiles, having watched the whole ordeal. "Hi Tom, I'm Liz. And if you don't mind me asking..." she laughs, looking over his shoulder, "what was that all about?"

He glances back at the bar. "Yeah...sorry," he pants. "I wanted...to impress you, but...it turned out to be...a pretty cheesy...pig-cup line."

One called Justin and the other called Kristian. The prawns were constantly being harassed and threatened by sharks that inhabited the area:

Finally one day Justin said to Kristian. "I'm fed up with being a prawn. I wish I was a shark and then I wouldn't have any worries about being eaten."

A large mysterious cod appeared and said. "Your wish is granted" Low and behold, Justin turned into a shark. Horrified, Kristian immediately swam away, afraid of being eaten by his old mate.

Time passed (as it does) and Justin found life as a shark boring and lonely All his old mates simply swam away whenever he came close to them. Justin didn't realise that his new menacing appearance was the cause of his sad plight.

While swimming alone one day he saw the mysterious cod again and he thought perhaps the mysterious fish could change him back into a prawn..

He approached the cod and begged to be changed back, and, lo and behold, he found himself turned back into a prawn.

With tears of joy in his tiny little eyes Justin swam to Kristian's home. As he opened the coral gate, memories came flooding back. He banged on the door and shouted. "It's me, Justin, your old friend, come out and see me again."

Kristian replied. "No way man, you'll eat me. You're now a shark, the enemy and I'll not be tricked into being your dinner." Justin cried back. "No, I'm not. That was the old me. I've changed....... I've found Cod. I'm a Prawn again Kristian!!.. 🤪🤣

There was, for instance, the time he conducted a crew of new S.A.R.H. (Society for the Aesthetic Rearrangement of History -BJ) recruits – all from late twentieth-century Terra – on a training study of Carter’s World, a newly established agricultural colony attempting to support itself by the export of edible nuts. Barely into their second generation, and having yet to show a profit, the colonists were technologically backward. Nevertheless, they showed a surprising ingenuity in the use of their few advantages. It was this resourcefulness that Feghoot was demonstrating to his rookies.

“Look at the perfection with which these streets are graded”, exclaimed one student. “Earth-moving machinery on this scale is strictly high technology stuff. How can they do it?”

“A new alleyway is being constructed, nearby”, said Feghoot. “Let us walk that way while I explain.” As they strolled, he told his students that countless centuries before, the Carter’s World system had been inhabited by a now-vanished race of giants. This very planet had served them for a nursery, and among the many artifacts they had left were thousands of childrens blocks, immense and precision-cut. You simply jack one up onto logs, bring it where you want it, put collapsible jacks underneath, snake out the logs, spread soil more or less evenly beneath, and collapse the jacks.

“I see”, said the student. “It’s not graded road at all; its a simple hammered-earth base.”

“That’s right,” Feghoot went on smoothly. “You just hit the road jack and don’t come back no mo.”

His students registered dismay and anguish.

“Isn’t that right, old-timer?,” Feghoot demanded of an ancient Carterian standing by the mouth of the newly completed alley they had just reached.

“Ahm afraid not, suh”, said the senior citizen, and the students giggled at Feghoots discomfiture. “Oh, we used to do it that way, but it was far too much trouble. It’s the soil heah. You see, the very same soil which produced our famous cashews is so high in clay content that a child could roll out a road of it. Then, we simply use a system of lenses to bake it into hardness. Ahve just completed this alley mahself, and ahm just a retired professor of Sports History, much too old and feeble to handle hydraulic jacks.

“So you see,” he finished, eyes twinkling, “Mah hammered alley is really cashews clay.”

Howls of agony rose from the students, but Feghoot never hesitated. “And he”, he said, turning to his students, “is clearly the gradi

• Like all cherished things in this covid-crazy world, the O.Henry Museum’s famous free, family friendly celebration of the wit-in-word will take place virtually in cyberspace this year. With an awesome live cast of lively wits and tortured tongues, the online audience will be treated to all the linguistic twists, dramatic turns, and surprise endings they’ve groan to love. Expect to witness wacky word butchers and voracious verbivores from around the globe, all worming their way into your ears. Tongues of tradition, tension and camaraderie make this the premier event for the world's competitive wordplay community
• Brought to you this year by the City of Austin, Brush Square Museums Foundation, and co- sponsored by Austin's very own Fantastic Magic Camp, as well as the internationally renowned podcast, Pun Intensive, The O. Henry Museum Pun-Off World Championships Punslingers Competition: Online Edition will commence Saturday, November 21, 2020
• Preliminary live rounds begin Saturday, November 21, 2020, at 11:00am CST, lasting about 2 hours. Later that evening, live competition resumes at 7:00pm CST with head-to-head prime time heats. - See Pun-Off.com for schedule details, links, and more.

[Austin, TX, November 1, 2020] - Although traditionally held outdoors on a single day in the spring, the first portion 2020 the O. Henry Museum Pun-Off competition known as Punniest of Show was conducted via video in October. Now on Saturday, November 21, 2020, PARD will bring you their most popular second segment, O. Henry Museum Pun-Off World Championships Punslingers Competition: Online Edition

This free, fun, and family friendly event will take place online this year, but with special twists, turns, and surprise modifications to make it the perfect 2020 event for the world's competitive wordplay community.

The O. Henry Museum Pun-Off World Championships have been an Austin institution for 43 years. As usual, the contest will feature a cavalcade of word-class wordsmiths from across the globe, all worming their way into your art. Join and enjoy us as they compete to spontaneously spit out the most absurd words you’ve ever heard.

The event will be live streamed at PunIntensive.com.

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

Surrounded by his son, his twin daughters and a haggard-looking nurse who looked about ready to end it all if only she could find the bloody switch, he was finally breathing his last.

His son, who loved him dearly and wasn't at all sure if he had been cut out of the will or not, burst into tears at the plight of a man who would look more at home in a red woolly outfit than he ever could in drab, white linen.

"I do not wish to die today, Anthony", he intoned fixing his gaze slightly above his son's left shoulder, "there is something you must do to save me."

"Tell me what to do dad, I can't bear to look at you this way", cried Anthony.

"There is a land, not far from here, where no one ever dies. It is not for dying you see. That is where I must go."

"Where is this place father? Tell me, and I shall take you to it."

"Take me there now", he said faintly as if in great pain, "Take me to, The Living Room."

So he asked his father for water. The father replied, "Can't you see I'm busy, get it yourself". The child continued to ask his father for water. The father shouted, " If you don't keep quite, I'll come and whip your ass". The child said, " Please bring a cup of water on your way here".

A man named Dave comes home very drunk late at night...

So this guy has been drinking with his buddies all night and he's as drunk as a skunk, gets home, falls up the stairs, undresses and goes to bed next to his wife. He falls asleep and next thing he knows, bang, he dies and finds himself waiting at the pearly gates.

The guy refuses to believe this is happening, he says to St. Peter: "This can't be possible, I'm a healthy man! This is not the way I die. You have to let me return down there!"
The guy can see St. Peter looks like he's feeling sorry for him, but he tells him that unfortunately, there's no policy for allowing people back on Earth. The guy insists: "But come on, there's got to be something you can do! I'll put up with anything, really, as long as you let me go back down."
So St. Peters tells him: "Well really, there's just this one possibility: you can go back, but only as a hen. That's the only thing we can allow." The guy guesses that this really is his only chance, so he agrees reluctantly.
So he's back on Earth in this beautiful chicken coop, the sun is shining, there's green grass everywhere, this is hen paradise. The other hens greet him with delight and he tells them his story, everything goes nicely. But then he feels kind of unwell, there's something wrong with his stomach. He asks this old hen: "Tell me, I've got this weird feeling in my belly, I'm not too well. What is happening to me?"

The old hen: "Well dearie, we hens lay eggs, you know. I bet you've never laid a nice egg before... You need to push it out now, and you'll feel much better after!"
So the guy pushes and pushes, and wham, out pops his first egg. The old hen congratulates him and he feels much better. But not 5 minutes later, his pain comes back. He returns to the old hen for advice.

"Well dearie, it's quite special but it happens that you need to lay TWO eggs, so go back there and keep pushing!"
So he goes back to his nest and pushes, and nothing comes, and he pushes harder, and wham, out comes his second egg! He feels much better, but not 2 minutes later, you guessed it, he's back in terrible pain and goes to see the old hen.

"What's this bullshit here, and don't tell me I've got a third egg to lay!" The old hen can't make head or tail of it and just tells him that when in doubt, he should be pushing. So the guy goes back to work and then, wham, his wife wakes him up with this smashing slap in the face and yells: "*Dave! Dave wake up you’re

Jesus was with Peter at a gathering (or something), and pointed to a bucket filled to the brim with water.

“Do you see that bucket over there, Peter?” Jesus asked.

“Yes, what about it?” Peter replied.

“I can turn it into wine.”

“No way!” Peter said, astonished.

Jesus smiled, “Yahweh.”

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

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

“Sure, it does.” I said. “It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”

Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. Every time he closes his eyes, he's sees Charlie hiding in the darkness of the forest. Not that you could ever see those bastards, mind you. They were fast and they knew their way around the jungle. He remembers the looks on the boy's faces when they walked into that village and... oh Jesus. He shouldn't think about that now. Sometimes he still hears Tex's slow southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes. He always had a pack of Luckys. But the boys are gone now... he knows that. It's--it's just that he forgets sometimes. And sometimes the way that seven looks at him... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. And he feels like he's back there... In the jungle... In the darkness.

Seven has a hook for a hand as well, which is very scary. Six is afraid of Seven because he is a damn psychopath.

“Sure, it does,” I said. “It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”

“Ha­­! That’s not going to help,” she said.

“Sure, it does,” I said. “It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”

“Ha­­! That’s not going to help,” she said.

“Sure, it does,” I said. “It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”