To Be Continued Puns

"Nope, they were cooked in Greece!"

Though I guess that's just a generalization.

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

my therapist said, “You might be getting carried away.”

I continued to fire into the ceiling. “Not without a fight!”

He said, "Look at my hair. It used to be so magnificent, but it's completely gone now. My hair can't be saved. But look outside at the forest. It's such a lovely forest with so many trees, but sooner or later they'll all be cut down and this forest will look as bald as my hair."

"What I want you to do..." the man continued. "Is, every time a tree is cut down or dies, plant a new one in my memory. Tell your descendants to do the same. It shall be our family's duty to keep this forest strong."

So they did.

Each time the forest lost a tree, the children replanted one, and so did their children, and their children after them.

And for centuries, the forest remained as lush and pretty as it once was, all because of one man and his re-seeding heirline.

It was a brisk Saturday morning when Gerald arrived at “The Café,” a hip coffee shop right down the street. Wearing his large, burly black coat, he stared hesitantly at his watch. Thick glasses adorned his bright blue eyes, his gaze like starlight in a clear night sky. He was waiting, intently twiddling his thumbs. After a buzz of his phone, the message from Dad popped up: “Parking now, be there in 5.”

“Dad,” he whispered under his breath, swiping the message away to once again reveal the image on his lock-screen: a hazy picture of an ultrasound.

Gerald had not spoken to his father for three years. They had had a falling out, over which he did not remember. To him it was a competition of who could wait the longest without calling or sending a text. Who could wait the longest: him without a father, or his father without a son? The idea of friction in the relationship hurt like a thorn; piercing his soul more and more everyday. Until recently, out of the blue, “Dad” popped up on his phone. The rest is history. The rest leads to that Saturday morning, at The Café.

Bang! A car door rang out not too far from where Gerald stood. Gerald saw him. His father wore his tweed jacket like a coat of armor. His strut was now weaker than before they stopped talking; a weakness evident in his cane which supported every right step. His shortly trimmed white beard juxtaposed against his uncut, curly grey hair gave him the image of a wise wizard from a fairytale. He used to be that figure to Gerald, yet instead of a nice ancient being acting like a stone to keep him grounded, Gerald had felt as though his father was a rock pulling him deeper and deeper into a sea of monotony. Holding him back from his true potential. Maybe that was why he left? He still did not know.

“Hello, son,” came the withered voice Gerald had sook for so long, yet now that it had arrived wanted to avoid. “I can’t believe it’s been so long!”

“Yeah,” said Gerald, allowing a smile to grace his face. “Too long!”

Then they hugged, signifying a change in their relationship. Gerald had hoped something could happen to bring them closer together. He did not want to go on wondering what could have been. The regret and sadness weighed him down. Before starting a new family, Gerald wanted to be reacquainted with his own.

After finding their table and sitting down, the two began to discuss life. It was like old friends catching up after a long break. Although it took some time, Gerald began to warm u

"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."

On the way, after passing a graveyard, my dad asked,

“Did you know that’s a popular cemetery?”

“No, why?” I responded.

“People are just dying to get in there!” he replied.

After I groaned, he continued, in all seriousness,

“But really, did you know I can’t be buried there?”

“Why not, Dad?” I asked, surprised.

“Because I’m not dead yet!”

She wasn’t unusual, nor was the travel bag she carried, except for one thing. She would approach people who were sitting on the beach, glance around, then speak to them.

Generally, the people would respond negatively and she would wander off, but occasionally someone would nod and there would be a quick exchange of money for something she carried in her bag.

The couple assumed she was selling drugs and debated calling the cops, but since they didn’t know for sure they just continued to watch her.

After a couple of weeks the wife asked, “Honey, have you ever noticed that she only goes up to people with boom boxes and other electronic devices?”

He hadn’t and said so. Then she said, “Tomorrow I want you to get a towel and our big radio and go lie out on the beach. Then we can find out what she’s really doing.”

Well, the plan went off without a hitch, and the wife was almost hopping up and down with anticipation when she saw the girl talk to her husband and then leave. The man walked up the beach and met his wife at the road. “Well, is she selling drugs?” she asked excitedly.”

“No, she’s not.” he said, enjoying this probably more than he should have.

“Well, what is it, then?” his wife fairly shrieked.

The man grinned and said. “Her name is Sally and she’s selling batteries.”

“Batteries?” cried the wife.

“Yes,” he replied. “She sells C cells by the Seashore.”

https://youtu.be/vFI1k8P0aH0

Comment to give her sum motivation to continue :) ...but only if you want too :))

We have always been such a happy couple and everything was fine for 3 years straight. Of course I always felt comfortable in front of her and felt like I can tell her anything. That's where I was wrong.

A few months ago I noticed that she became annoyed by my dumb jokes that were only funny to me, but that just made it even funnier to me so I continued telling all these dad jokes to her and died laughing every time.

She puts up with it because she loves me. At least I thought so.

We were always 100% honest with each other and I'm still shaken by the things she told me today.

I sent her probably one of my worst dad jokes ever (that I stole from reddit), and she just couldn't take it anymore and told me how stupid my jokes are and that she doesn't know if she'll be able to put up with it much longer.

But that's not the worst part, I actually appreciated her honesty and considered the possibility to stop with all the stupid jokes and become more serious in the relationship.

The worst part is that she lied to me for the first time in all these years. I felt like I just couldn't trust her anymore and everything I thought I knew about her as a person just became questionable. I need your advice on how to react to this huge lie...

She told me she's Sorry, but I know for a FACT that her name is Diane.

"Welcome everyone to Dads Anonymous. Again my name is Bill and you will notice that we have a new member, please welcome Gary -- Can you tell us what brought you to us today?"

"Well I have a very embarrassing confession. It's even hard to get the words out."

Bill reassures him, "We are all dads here and have been meeting for decades, we've been through all the highs and lows, births and deaths, tragedies, we've heard it all. Just tell us what's on your mind son, we are here to support each other."

"Well, a couple months ago, I broke both my legs in a motorcycle accident and couldn't walk, so I let my wife use the lawnmower." He says through the sobs...

Bob, one of the other dads, starts to get pale. "...and she didn't even cut it in a crisp geometric pattern, it was just random..." Bob starts to sweat and get dry heaves. "YOU BASTARD", he screams. "HOW COULD YOU LET THAT HAPPEN." The dads rise and get ready to beat the crap out of Gary, when Bill stands between them and breaks it up.

"Guys! Guys, we all get weak sometimes and things happen outside our control. Doug, you remember when you were in recovering from Chemo and you gave your wife a hammer, and she used it to hammer a roofing nail into the drywall to hang a picture!" Doug, looks down in shame, "Yes, that was a bad day, I was so weak. She missed the stud and left a dent in the wall, and she just hung the picture over it, crooked!" There was dead silence. "Thats ok Doug, it was twenty years ago, you were young and foolish, you can let it go". Then all the dads shook hands and sat back down.

Bill starts the meeting up again. Then Gary says, "..theres one more thing, Right after I got out of the hospital, she wanted to make a special dinner for us, so I let her grill the steaks..." "OH LORD THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!" screams Dave, another dad, his face turning red. Gary continues "...she burnt them one one side and they were dry and chewy." Now there is a bedlam, one dad immediately passes out cold, chairs are thrown, broken bottles, Gary is on the ground being kicked in the ribs. After a few tense minutes Bill managed to get the dads off of Gary. "Stop it, Dave you're killing him. Come on, you remember that time you let your wife go to the repair shop for an oil change?" Dave hung his head, and muttered yeah. "They convinced her to change the cabin filter, wiper blades and the radiator collant..." Bill kept prodding "and, aaand" ...Dave broke down, "and she bought a jug of blinker fluid!" T

She told me she had everything, and I was in a rush. So it got left behind. Figured it out right away as we were getting him changed and messaged my wife. She said she would bring it right away. I told my son "You mom is going to run your jersey over"

Without skipping a beat, he replied "Well that won't work, practice will probably be over. I wish she would just drive it over"

Then he gave me a huge grin. I told him he won the dad joke of the day and he continued smiling all the way until bedtime.

My morning walk with the dog was cut short today. There's a park we usually wander through so she can sniff and explore, but today we couldn't get in because the path was blocked by an army of angry geese.

I was telling my mom about this and she mentioned there are geese at the river where she and a friend take their dogs, too. She said they must all be in town for some kind of conference. Then she paused for half a second and continued:

I bet it's a religious thing. They're here to preach the goosepel.

(To satisfy the rule: that's a play on gospel.)

"Greetings, comrade." says the spy, but before he could finish his sentence, the Russian says, "I think you are American spy."

The spy is alarmed, but being a skilled, trained, spy, he says, "That is not true! I am the proudest Soviet there is! I can sing the anthem more beautifully than any other man in the country!"

He then proceeds to sing the Soviet anthem, so melodically and beautifully, that everybody in the bar cheers.

"Very good, very good!" says the politician. "But I still think you are spy."

The man continues to keep his cool.

"I am a historian! I can tell you everything about this glorious country!"

He then spends about two hours recounting the Revolution, the Great Patriotic War, about how superior to the Russia is in terms of technology compared to America and makes a great argument about how communism is beneficial to society.

"Amazing! You are skilled!" says the politician.

The spy smirks.

"But I still think you American spy."

The spy is getting frustrated, but still unfazed.

He replies, "I am good drinker, a true Russian! Let us drink, and see who can come out top!"

The bar turns its attention to the politician and the spy, who are now in a drinking contest.

The bartender serves drink after drink of vodka.

After about an hour of drinking, the politician nearly passes out, unable to hold as much liquor as the spy, to a resounding cheer amongst the bar.

In the midst of the cheering, the Russian politician gets up, smiling, and in a slurred speech, repeats, "You are good, you are good... but I still think you are spy."

The American spy, piss drunk, loses his skill and gives up.

"Okay, you got me. I am an American. But what made you think that way, after all this time?"

The Russian politician replies, "There aren't many black people in Russia."

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

Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.

To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.

I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.

Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.

You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.

The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.

The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.

Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.

Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.

But so far, I've quit cold turkey.

“It’s actually not a very civil way to communicate, yelling that is. I would quite appreciate you being more respectful for us to continue our interaction, thank you. Sir.”

I'm here today to tell you all a horrible story, so that none of you have to go through the same experience as my friend.

My friend, Hugh, is a very religious man, who is also involved in our community. 2 weeks ago, our local church burned down and Hugh believed it was his Christian duty to help them get back on their feet. Hugh allowed the friars of the church to set up a cart in his mall to sell their flowers. Every day, the friars came in at 7:00 in the morning with a bushel of beautiful flowers and began to work diligently to arrange them into bouquets. All was going well, the mall was generating more revenue and the church was making more money than they were by selling the flowers in front of the church on Sunday. Everyone was happy; until that first weekend.

Our town is kinda tourist-y, so we get some out-of-towners on the weekends. A gay couple came to the mall the first weekend that the friars had taken up shop (Typically, our town is pretty progressive, but the friars tended to be uber-conservative). The couple came over to the cart and admired the flowers; they tried to purchase a bouquet, but the friars refused to sell to them. The couple was outraged and went to see Hugh directly. They complained to him that the friars were being discriminatory, so Hugh promised to have a talk with the friars. When Hugh confronted the friars, they refused to sell to the couple on the grounds that “they were committing an atrocity in the eyes of the lord.” The couple stormed off and promised to boycott the cart.

This past weekend, the couple came back with a large group and a letter from the mayor, saying that the friars had to sell to them, regardless of sexual preference. The friars stood firm and refused to sell to them, so the group started a protest. They brought in signs and started chanting around the cart. The friars continued to sell their flowers and Hugh allowed them to remain, so eventually the protest began to boycott the mall, rather than just the cart.

By today, the mall had lost 50% of its normal weekend revenue. The group sent a letter to Hugh saying that they could forgive him if he shut down the flower cart within the week. Hugh was pretty broken up, but he had no choice. To maintain his livelihood, he would have to kick the friars out of his store. He talked with the friars this morning and revoked their previous agreement. The friars had their cart packed and left by 7:30, to huge cheers from the community. The mall has been pretty norm

So this is a bit long, sorry about that.

Zorro and his best bud the Lone Ranger were riding through the desert one day, I forget where they were heading to or where they had come from, but we can safely assume shenanigans of some kind were the driving force.

They have been travelling for most of the day and are starting to get tired. There has been a discussion about making camp for the night, but as things are they have agreed to continue riding for a while longer, till the sun starts to set. Away and off to the west the Lone Ranger spies a plant that seems to have large pink flowers that hang in strips with white stripes running the length of them.

"Zorro, what's that over there?" he asks.

Zorro turns in his saddle and raises his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "Ah, it looks like a bacon tree, quite common in these parts. Let's ride on, there is a good place an hour from now to set up camp."

The two friends ride on and as the sun is beginning to descend the have stopped and are making camp. As Zorro begins to make a fire he says to the Lone Ranger, "You know, I quite fancy some pork. You ride back to that bacon tree and get some for supper, and I'll finish setting up camp here."

"No problem Zorro, I won't be long" replies the Ranger, jumping back into the saddle and returning the way they came.

Time passes, and the sun begins to get low in the sky. 'Odd', thinks Zorro 'he should be back by now.' Another hour passes and the shadows are growing longer. 'I might have to go investigate, it's not like him to take his time.' More time passes, and, just as Zorro has decided that he must go search for his friend in the dwindling light, he hears the sound of Silver's hooves. Looking into the gathering gloom he sees his friend riding towards him. As the Lone Ranger nears Zorro can see the Lone Ranger is injured, there are cuts and bruises and he has an arrow through his hat.

"What on earth happened, Lone Ranger? Did you make it to the Bacon tree?"

The Lone Ranger dismounts and sighs heavily.

"That weren't no Bacon tree, Zorro. That was an Hambush."

"I've been trying to reach you since the last three weeks but you wouldn't pick up the call," I said.

"I'm having some serious symptoms and I needed this appointment as soon as possible," I continued.

"Alright, alright," the doctor interfered. "Just be patient."

Dad: [Continuing a story] He was my mother's brother's son... What does that make him?

My wife: That makes him your first cousin.

Dad: Yeah, but, he had a twin.

My wife: So? They were both your first cousins.

Dad: Yeah but one of them had to be born first, one of them had to be born second.

"sounds like a prime choice," I replied.

"Heck, that baby could grow up to be a girl on fire," I continued.

"Please stop," my wife said.

A quaint little men's class,

a few with class,

some smelling of a gin glass,

some with eyes of a lass,

the remainder eyeing a lad,

but all glad,

and all present,

youngster of the present,

bearders of the crescent,

readers new testaments,

preachers of old testaments,

bearers of saffron tenets,

wearers of white tints,

weird lovers of croissant,

well, all here, will all hear?

we never know,

lets look at the show

 

The English teacher, said,

"how to drink a juice?"

i know, said bart the bartender,

"with vodka and chicken tender"

the weirded beardo now angry,

showed he was a shouter,

wanted to be a bart-ender,

while shushing the crowd,

use a pipe, piped up a voice, loud,

"huh" exclaimed preacher pastor,

"no smoking" he said, showing a guilty fluster ,

"no sir" said the voice,

I'm extra maker,

spoke the voice quicker,

Mr.White scratching head,

"I'm an ex-straw maker",

the air cleared.

 

Proceeding further, Teacher continued,

the class was listening, eyes glued,

"etiquette is important" he said,

"wear napkin before eating",

their faces changed,

pulse now beating,

Mr.White said, "sir, we don't bleed",

an irritated saffron Sundar spoke,

"if you bleed, education you don't need"

the English sir, now a sundered bloke,

calmed the masked fish market,

as his God's fate chisel hammered,

"Do you know how to fork?" he stammered,

a brief silence, and too many whispers later

"I Pen is use sir", said a bright face,

"Do you know how to use a fork?" he corrected,

with damage now done, Silence resumed.

 

>ThePundits

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

In the not too distant future, web censorship is pervasive; speech and freedom are strangers to one another; while pirates sail the seas with impunity, digital pirates are incarcerated by the busload.

Anyone who speaks out against this ban on open-dialogue or the free-sharing-of-ideas is ground down and hidden away, and the resistance is loosing its will.

A small group of contributors to reddit, huddled together in a bunker beneath barely-waving flags of Snoo, worked tirelessly to repost new ideas from around the internet, to release ideas from their chains, and make speech free ... again!

But it was not to be - a gang of the governments anti-piracy enforcers descended on this, the last bastion of humankind's will to share-freely. Arriving in an armored bus, ten shock-troopers breached the bunker and it looked like the day was lost.

Fortunately for us all, one brave redditor led the collective out a back entrance and they circled to the driveway. This leader told the other redditors to wait in the bushes while he overpowered the one soldier left guarding the transport. There was a flash of movement, a crack from a fallen branch as it struck the guard, and then, stolen keys in hand, the hero revved the engine and told the redditors to pile in.

He had to will himself ignore the gas gauge as he floored the accelerator on the 25,000 pound ticket to freedom - there was only survival or defeat, and nothing in between. Sirens came alive behind him as he rushed for the border to the promised land, to the Free-North.

As the engine begins to cough, the titanic weight of the transport cleaves the barricades asunder and the pursuing vehichles have to hard-brake to avoid skidding beyond their corrupt jurisdiction. Both exhausted and elated, the redditors follow their hero to the freedom promised by their new surroundings ... but their peril is not yet passed.

Though most of the pirate-hunters glower from the south-side of the border, one special agent has crossed over and is speaking with the border guards. The tension is thick. A long-faced guard turns to the newcomers, clearly troubled by what he must do.

"Folks," he says, a pained look on his kindly face, "I'm sorry, to do this, don't cha' know, but I got no choice, eh!"

Confused, the redditors look to one another, and tremble as they notice the agent's smug expression, greedy eyes fixed on the leader of the exodus.

"Look here, now, you are all welcome here, of course, and since speech is free here, we are

A director and a costume designer had a disagreement over a critical shot in the horror movie they were filming in their studio.

The director planned to use CGl for a brief but critical reveal-shot of the movie's monster. But the costume designer insisted they use an actual costume instead of CGl.

"CGl makes a movie look cheap these days," she proclaimed.

The two of them continued debating until they began arguing. The stage crew, actors on break, and other people around them began watching until both the costume designer and director were shouting over each other at the top of their lungs. Despite their efforts, nobody could calm them down.

Fearing the incident may lead to blows, one of cameramen called a studio security guard in urgent request. The guard arrived a minute later and made a beeline for the director and costume designer, who were being held back by multiple people on set.

"lt's my movie. l make the decisions!" the director hollered, hoarse and red in the eyes.

"The movie quality will suffer!" the costume designer screamed, hair plastered across her sweaty face.

The security guard stepped in-between them and raised his pistol at the ceiling without a word. They continued to argue around him. There was a bark of gunshot, then nothing but silence and some falling plaster.

"Now see here," the guard said loudly, stepping back to look at the two of them. "Either you two quit your bickering or l'll have to escort you off the premises. You're making a scene."

Was at work when a co-worker tried to guess another co-workers height.

Her: "What are you, about 6' 3"?"

Him: "Yeah I'm 6' 3", your guess was right on the nose!"

Me: "Actually the top of the head, guessing 6' would probably be closer to the nose."

Them: "What?" They continued to stare at me with a confused expression until I just said never mind haha.

While this news undoubtedly sucks, I'm trying to take it in stride and em-brace it nonetheless! The recovery will give me the opportunitknee to improve my skills as a sideline player and some extra downtime to expand my abilities in programming and graphic design. I plan to continue at-tendon practices and other events as normal though! So many teammates, past and present, have already been incredibly supportive and reached out to help me; its certainly been a joint effort, and I can't thank you all enough for that. In hindsight, I wouldn't change akneething about attending USA U24 tryouts as tenacity, perserverance, and sacrifice are often the names of the game in pursuit of distant dreams. Ultimately, I guess some things are just liga-meant to be!

I told him: "If i'm already playing WoW i'd be more inclined to continue WoW, but if i'm not, i'm not inclined to start - it's the law of conservation of MMOentum"

Credit to u/echonight . This is a cross post from r/askreddit

There are two identical twin brothers that live together. One happens to be a well-respected dentist, and the other can't seem to keep a job. Instead of actively looking for work, he likes to sit around at home. One Saturday, the dentist is hungry, and puts his brother on the spot. He tells him to get off his lazy behind and go get them some food. After some protest, the lazy brother takes the car and leaves for the store. In the meantime, the dentist takes a nap on his day off. He turns off his phone so he won't be interrupted.

About 30 minutes later, the lazy brother gets into a head-on collision in the intersection by the grocery store. His vital signs are fading; he's unconscious and barely moving. An ambulance picks him up and rushes him to the hospital. He ends up in the Emergency Room under observation, but his condition is critical. They try calling his dentist brother, but he doesn't pick up because his phone is off.

The dentist wakes to a knock on the door. Suspecting a solicitor, he ignores it, but the knocking continues. Eventually, he resolves to get up and yell at the person at the door. When he does, he reveals--- the grim reaper. He is just as he appears in movies; a full skeleton underneath a tattered cloak.

The grim reaper swears. "Oh no! This always happens with identical twins".

"What do you mean?" asks the dentist.

"Well... if you must know, your brother was in a critical car accident, and I've come to take him to the underworld. I'm afraid his time on Earth has ended. I'll take my leave now."

The dentist is noticeably upset. He says "Wait! Isn't there some way I can challenge you for my brother's life? After all, YOU made the mistake. Certainly there must be a way I can bargain for his life."

The grim reaper asks "What do you have in mind?"

The dentist thinks. "How about a challenge? If I beat you, you let my brother go free."

The grim reaper laughs. "I will beat you in any challenge. What challenge do you propose?"

The dentist smiles. "I propose we see who has the cleanest teeth. 5 minute of brushing each, then we decide."

"Very well" says the grim reaper, who makes his way to the bathroom.

Once there, he pulls back his tattered cloak to reveal his skull. It's glistening. He takes a toothbrush from the bathroom, loads it with toothpaste, and brushes. After 5 minutes, the shiniest teeth anyone has ever seen glisten and make the room bright. The grim reaper gr

I have a scrawny, little, younger sister and we always have a seafood buffet for Christmas dinner.

Sister: "Hey, dad can you pass me the shrimp and I want some mussels too please?"

Dad: "Here's the shrimp, for mussels you're gonna have to go to a gym and do some exercising" [continues eating his food without ever passing the mussels]

Sister: "Hey, dad....."

Pops: "Hay is for horses, this is seafood."

This was especially funny due to the fact that he kept a poker face the entire time and never made eye contact with my sister, being completely serious and never cracking a smile. These exchanges happen at least 7X a day.

Went to check out the bears. When I arrived at their pen, there was a sign on the door that said:

We apologize, but this pen is currently empty and "bear-ren." Please "bear" with us as we continue to perform some maintenance on this pen. The bears that live here should be back in a couple of hours. We apologize for any convenience this has caused."

I like this zoo already. XD

Our psych teacher is known to be a jokester and today he continued that trend.

"So one night I was driving down a road in the country. All of a sudden, I heard a bam. I had hit something with my car. It turned out to be a pig. I didn't know what to do, so I just rolled it to the edge of the road. The next day at home, the farmer gave me a call saying he knew it was me who had killed his pig. I thought to myself, 'How could he know?' That's when it dawned on me. The pig had squealed."

As a Boy Scout, we would camp a lot and go on hikes.

One night, we had to do a night hike, alone, for a merit badge. I had left the campsite about an hour earlier and a terrible storm rolled in. The sky opened up and the ground was quickly saturated. I tried to continue my hike for another few minutes, but it got cold and I was chilled and soaked to the bone, so I decided to try to head back to camp.

Lightning was starting to crackle above me, so I thought I should try to take a shortcut to make my hike back quicker. I pulled out my compass and found my direction, but the rain made it impossible to see more than five feet in front of me.

I was looking down at my compass, not paying any attention to where I was going, and suddenly felt weightless. The feeling didn't last long as I thumped down on slippery earth a second later.

I had fallen onto a ledge on the side of a rather steep cliff, the bottom of which was at least fifty feet down.

I sat there, contemplating on how to get back up this cliff as water rolled over the edge ten feet above me. There was nothing to grab onto to pull myself up. I was stuck there.

After a few minutes, I noticed the little ledge I was standing on was slowly getting smaller. The water was coming down so hard it was eroding the tiny bit of safety I had.

I dug through my pockets, thinking maybe I had something, anything, to help me out of my precarious situation. All I had was my compass, a cough drop, and a match. I was screwed.

So, I sat there, watching the edge of the ledge I was on get closer and closer to my feet, when suddenly I felt something pushing on my back.

I turned slightly and saw a wooden box sticking out of the cliff behind me. It was working its way out of the side, the rain surely helping it along. I tried to move away from it, but the ledge wasn't very wide and the box kept coming out, pushing me farther to the weak and failing edge.

As more of the box came out, to my horror, I realized it was a coffin! I had no idea how old it was, but it looked rather rotten. All I could think of was being pushed off this ledge, and the rotten coffin breaking and dropping a skeleton onto my broken and battered body at the bottom.

The coffin crept closer, my foot began to slip. I grabbed onto a root that was sticking out of the cliffside and dug in my pocket once more.

I hurriedly tore the wrapper off the cough drop and stuck it in my mouth. It stopped the coffin.

This joke has been told to me

I figured who better to ask about a silly pun than the good folks over here at /r/dadjokes? I'm going to be in a spelling bee and I need a good name that matches up with a good costume theme. To give examples these are my two previous iterations:

"Punktuation" - Dressed as punk rockers

"Bee Me Up, Scotty!" - Dressed as Star Trek officers

If anyone has a good idea let me know and I will post pics from the event on October 24th. If you don't care to help then...umm...continue being dads.

EDIT FOR CLARITY: People are making some great suggestions for names, but I should have clarified that this is for a team of 3 people. So proper names are not really going to work...stick to the format I have described in this post!

Goofing around, she says something kinda mean.

Me: Ok now, let's not be mean. We don't say things like that.

Her, continuing to goof around.

Me: No really, I'm trying to be serious here.

Her: Hi Serious, I'm < her name >.

Never been more proud =)

Okay so I get off at 4:00 and I didn't waste any time leaving the office. Shut down my computer, grabbed my keys, and I was on the road by 4:05. It had been a pretty crazy day and I was ready to get home.

As I'm driving home I notice I'm running on Empty. I probably could have made it home but I was really craving a Coca Cola so I decide to stop at the nearest gas station.

Anyways I'm filling my tank I see an old lady a few gas pumps away putting gas in her old beat up station wagon but didn't really think anything of it and just continued to enjoy my icey cold Coca Cola.

Next thing I know I see this old lady holding the gas pump nozzle spewing gas everywhere. I guess she had taken the nozzle out of the vehicle w out disengaging the automatic trigger or whatever but it went EVERYWHERE. Her car, her arms, the ground, all over the place and by the time she got that thing to stop spraying there was at least a gallon of gas everywhere.

So I immediately run over to see if she's okay and she smells like straight up gas. I gave her napkins to dry off her hands and to clean what gas was spilled on the car. She said she was okay and thanked me for my help so I leave and head home.

So now I'm a few blocks from home, driving over the last hill right before my next turn and all of a sudden, almost out of nowhere, she comes flyin past me in that same old beat up station wagon with, I shit you not, her arm CAUGHT ON FIRE. And as if that's not bad enough there are two cops right behind her in hot pursuit. So while I'm freaking out trying to pull over to the side she zooms past so fast I barely catch a glimpse of her frantically flailing her arm out the window as they all go over the hill.

At that point couldn't believe what I was seeing it was just too crazy. So I quickly get back on the road and make my way over the hill and I spot her. She's pulled over in the emergency lane. I see the same old lady being handcuffed and put in the back of the squad car.

Yeah turns out she was arrested for waiving a fire arm in public.

¯_(ツ)_/¯

Dad sent this yesterday. Ouch.

Upon hearing that her elderly grandfather had just passed away, Katie went straight to her grandparent's house to visit her 95 year-old grandmother and comfort her. When she asked how her grandfather had died, her grandmother replied, "He had a heart attack while we were making love on Sunday morning." Horrified, Katie told her grandmother that 2 people nearly 100 years old having sex would surely be asking for trouble. "Oh no, my dear," replied granny. "Many years ago, realizing our advanced age, we figured out the best time to do it was when the church bells would start to ring. It was just the right rhythm. Nice and slow and even. Nothing too strenuous, simply in on the Ding and out on the Dong." She paused to wipe away a tear, and continued, "He'd still be alive if the ice cream truck hadn't come along."

This will continue to be my all-time fav pun.