Turning 3 Puns

95% of conversations between me & my aunt turn into pun wars.

Enjoy!

https://i.imgur.com/aGooknb.jpg

Me: "But you already own her home."

Dad: -turning to daughter- "If you don't sleep with him, I will."

Credit to u/psybermonkey15

My how the stables have turned.

Edit: Wow guys, thanks for all the love!

But I’m turning myself around

and one of the furniture was very nice to me. It turned out to be hospitable.

Turns out there was a face off in the corner.

Turns out the paper was jamming

Because you don’t turn your back on family.

Turns out it was The Who that let the dogs out

When I was young I was told I could be anyone I wanted. Turns out identity theft is a crime.

This old bloke I know just passed away. He was well known in the community for his wood turning - bowls, furniture - you name it, he did it. So for the funeral, they decided to bury his prized lathe right there next to him.

It's a nice gesture - but I know he'd be turning in his grave if he knew.

She could see I was stressed out with work and she and I have a very dark sense of humour.

Hey Dad, you ok?

Yeah li'l beat just over worker and tired and stressed about the holidays.

"hey dad, lots of men struggle with mental health don't worry about it too much, Robin Williams and Kurt Cobain daughters turned out just fine."

But it turned out it was an optical Aleutian.

Found this on Twitter:

My pal, driving in fog, got pulled over. Cop says “What do we do when we encounter Mr Fog?”. My pal thinks “better humour him” so says “ We turn Mr Steering Wheel towards Mr Slow lane”. Cop says “No Sir, I said “What do we do when we encounter MIST OR FOG !”

But it turns out I didn’t make it in thyme.

It’s something you can’t turn down!

But then I turned myself around

The left ear, the right ear, and the final front ear.

Thank you Stephen King for this wonderful joke.

Turns out they had a lot of trouble putting him in his coffin. Because everytime they put his right leg in, he put his right leg out.

Turns out, my house is pregnant.

Turns out it’s tomorrow.

Turns out I'm yak-tose intolerant

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

Turns out, they’re all bark and no bite.

turns out it was just Saturday Night Fever!

So, she walks over and takes a seat next to him on the bench, turns to him and says, "Sorry to bother you. I know this may be a little forward but I would love to grab coffee with you some time."

Flattered, the man responds, "Sure... but what makes you so certain you and I would get along so well?"

"Well..." the woman says. "A couple things, actually. I noticed you were wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt. Iron Maiden are my favorite band of all time. When they went on their reunion tour in 1999, my parents took me to see them in Cleveland. I was 12 years old and it was the first concert I ever went to. I absolutely love Iron Maiden."

The man can't believe it.

"I saw them play Cleveland in '99! First concert I ever went to on my own. My best friend Jimmy Spitz and I told our parents we were sleeping at each others' houses, snuck out, took a bus into the city and saw them play at the Plain Dealer Pavillion!"

Naturally, they're both shocked.

"If that isn't weird enough..." says the woman. "I noticed you're reading Mark Twain. I was a communications major in university and I actually wrote my thesis on Mark Twain and how he used satire as a lens to comment on current events of the time, comparing him to satirical news sources of today. He's my favorite author."

Now the man is really taken aback, "Get out of here! I was an English major in university! I specialized in 19th century American literature and this is like my fourth or fifth time reading Tom Sawyer, I absolutely love Mark Twain."

They both can't believe it...this has got to be a match made in heaven.

"Ok..." the woman says. "Well, buckle up because here's the icing on the cake. I noticed you're eating a prune. Prunes are my absolute favorite fruit. When I was a kid, my grandfather lived on a farm. He had an orchard that mainly grew apples and some lemons, but he knew how much my sister and I loved prunes so he kept a couple of plum trees. Every year at the end of the summer, we'd go up and harvest the plums with him. He'd dry them and by the time we'd go back to his place for Thanksgiving he'd always have those prunes saved just for us. They're my favorite fruit! I love prunes, you're eating a prune, this has got to be fate. What do you say?"

The man puts down his fruit and responds,

"It's a date!"

Turns out he just needed a little space.

The next minute you're turning down the stereo in the car so you can see better.

Because they turn into warehouses

... 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.

I've two bulls who just love to fight //
they simply cannot be polite //
Just one needs to breed //
and so I'll proceed //
to castrate the weak one tonight

The procedure is safe, I insist //
if we make the blood flow desist //
to make bleeding halt //
do the "ball somersault" //
and give that whole sack a huge twist

To do this requires no skill //
I'll just need a quite large power-drill //
and a specialized clamp //
to hold on to that champ //
then turn it on fast- what a thrill!

It is clear this device should appeal //
to those who need bulls with less zeal //
I shall name this device //
with a drill and a vise //
the most perfect of names: "Steering Wheel!"

Turns out people don't like it when you go the extra mile for them.

They turned out to be real period pieces.

I’m sorry, that took a dark turn

I took him out, and he was a nice guy. Turns out he’s a web designer!

He turned a deaf ear to them.

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

Shoot it with a BLUE elephant gun. How do you kill a PINK elephant? . . . . Hold it's nose until it turns blue then shoot it with a BLUE elephant gun.

turns out it's by the Cinnabon.

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Who thinks they're punny?! 😜⠀⠀I sketched this Hellraiser holding a cactus and thought it'd make a cute Valentine's Day card. I'm in the process of colouring it and I want YOU to help me caption it.⠀

I've asked the question on IG (@ashrobertsondesign) but didn't get a lot of feedback so I'm reaching out here. Gimme your best prick, point, hell, etc. related puns n make it about love 🔥

I'll choose a favourite from the comments and turn it into a FREE Valentine's Day card printable.

I thought, "I can't turn that down."

I turned to them and said, "so beat it"

Turns out identity theft is a crime

Found this gem on Twitter:

My pal, driving in fog, got pulled over. Cop says “What do we do when we encounter Mr Fog?”. My pal thinks “better humour him” so says “ We turn Mr Steering Wheel towards Mr Slow lane”. Cop says “No Sir, I said “What do we do when we encounter MIST OR FOG !”

Turns out identity theft is a crime