Well Posed Puns

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll have one holiday please!"

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

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

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

"Oh lots - anything up to ten dollars"

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

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

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

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

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

Recently, my brother came a-knocking upon my chamber door. At first, I ignored his knockings, as I was otherwise indisposed, but eventually I relented, arose from my recumbent pose upon my comparatively humble pallet, and went to my door, the lintel of which is obviously forsaken of and unornamented by a bust of Pallas, yet I am not Poe's somewhat well-to-do narrator, so....I digress. Let me just finally arrive at the whole point and punchline of this particular and peculiar yet picayune semi-autobiographical story: So, I flung wide open the door, but neither so suddenly nor violently as to so take my brother off his guard that said flinging door struck him full in the face, but with still such a show of force that he well knew that he had awakened to full furiousness the rather sporadically beastly person who dwelt behind it. At any rate, startled by my unoccluding of the door or not, the first thing out of his mouth was a query concerning my collection of tools, which is even humbler than my pallet. In short, he inquired of me as to whether or not I possessed a hammer, to which inquiry I replied only that I used to, and then made a brief, dumb show of gesturally looking for it. When my silly and simple search proved fruitless, I then said, upon seeing a stack of canned food that sat upon the splintered shelf in the marred and ancient armoire that formerly belonged to our deceased father, "What if you were to use this can? Or, if you like, this CANMER"? (And thus concludes my hardly lengthy nor revelatory tale. Lol)

As I'm sure many of you can remember (or not), senior prom was one of the most exciting events of our pre-real world existence. However, in order to get to the actual event, there were three significant steps that needed to be taken care of:

1. Sober up enough before actually getting to the venue
2. Find a date who wasn't even weirder than you were
3. Rent a tuxedo This last part posed quite a bit of a problem to me, mostly because tuxedos can be very expensive to come by. Luckily enough for me, a local formalwear shop had a great deal going on; they would give you massive discounts and even hefty prizes for referring as many of your friends as possible to their business. Eager as I was to save a few bucks, I proceeded to text everyone in my phone's contact list. Almost every one of them neglected to respond to my pitiful pleas of financial assistance, not wanting to get caught up in this scam that I myself had meandered into. Finally, my token black friend, Malik, unwillingly took my bait. He tentatively responded, asking more about what he could get out of the deal for himself. After much persistence on my part, he finally declined, trying his best to let me down gently. As my poor little heart finally broke completely in two, I decided to alleviate the social tension, replying to him, "Alright man, well, suit yourself."

After making one too many dad jokes, I posed a question to my old man.

Me: "Do I really have to have your genes?"

Dad: "They're not all bad, but I will admit that we don't breed well."

Touché old man. Touché.

My dad is a night owl and my mum is an early bird, meaning he has a good few hours to plot and scheme his dadjokes...

Well the other evening, he decided to scare the living daylights out of my mum by drawing a face on a melon, stuffing it in a hoodie with rubber-gloves, shoes and jeans and posed it in our morning room.

Now my mum gets up real early, and walks around the house in a grumpy daze, grumbling, scratching and squinting and whatnot with a grim face looking for something to nag about, so you can imagine the sheer pride he (probably) felt wrapped up in bed with that dumb dadjoke grin from his "Hilarious prank", to hear a loud "AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" coming from across the hall.

Needless to say i'm pretty sure she found something to nag about that morning.