Posts Tagged ‘pun’


While hiking southern Africa, I encountered a man mourning over the remains of his friend, a Kalahari guide. The poor tribesman been torn to pieces, obviously by a lion, his friend could only stammer incoherently.
“What happened?” I asked. “Cat got your !Kung?”


The English Department

• I am the Dean of the English department in a small rural college, and the drama is in the main restricted to the confines of the printed pages read by our students.
• So I took secret pleasure as I listened while Professor Weems relayed his plight. His agitated manner, although justified, was amusing me to no end. However, his problem was real, a rich alumnus wanted to have him fired for giving his son a failing grade.
• “Dean Tinsdale,” Weems was saying, “ I don’t care if he’s a legacy, the lad did not follow instructions. I told my students to write a story that placed them at the scene and time of a historical event. Also, they were to write it in real-time.” He paused, took a breath, and continued.
• “ Young Mr. Portsmith instead wrote himself into a current event, the growing tension between our president and the Russian premier. To make it worse, he wrote it in the past tense! “ He wasn’t through, either. “And the moron is arguing that the tense doesn’t matter if the story is about a current event! I know his dad is a benefactor, but we can’t relax our standards, can we?”
• I empathized with Weems, but I liked my job, and ticking off the wealthy alumni wasn’t the way to keep it. I made my decision.
• “Okay, tell Portsmith to rewrite the story as per instructed, and then have him bring it to me, and I’ll see if he got it right.”
• Weems was not too happy, “ You mean …”
• I interrupted him, “ Yes, there will be a present-tense investigation.


I used to run a legitimate business that investigated incidents of alleged supernatural occurrences, exposed lies made by politicians on both sides of the aisle, and disproved urban legends.
It was a labor of love, I never expected to make a living from the mere telling of the truth. However, we started getting some notice from the national media, Wall Street began sniffing around. The firm might have become as big as Snopes or Factcheck, financing my pulling back veils of lies and scaling walls of preconceptions. My company would have led the vanguard of a new order, one not based on superstitions.
Until the powers that be, fearing for their positions of power, passed some draconian new laws. Subsequently, the police raided my offices seized our computers and files, and jailed my staff and I for running a Myth Lab.


Joey “potty mouth” Potella enjoyed working as a scatologically-inclined comedian, as much to make people laugh in shock as for the money.

Thus, he was only half-satisfied with his last gig, he told me over a drink after the show.

“That dolt of an agent, he books me at a deaf-mute convention. And the group’s interpreter, who was very religious, stopped signing my jokes at the first “$#@!”! On top of that, the stage was too far away from the crowd, and too dimly lit for them to read my lips.”

He drained his drink, then continued, “I tell you pal, there is nothing I hate worse than to be obscene and not heard!”

SHORT, STUBBY TALES, pt 2 (or 3, who’s counting, much less reading?)

The other vendors and I were happy to have the old Mexican and his trained birds participate in this year’s event; he wasn’t competing for the public’s food dollar, nor with the stands that mainly sold Chinese-manufactured trinkets that announced themselves as authentic. In addition, the antics of his feathered employees drew potential customers our way.

However, I found it odd, the favoritism he seemed to show the cockatiel, who between shows sat on a perch under an umbrella, while the toucan sat on the old man’s shoulder, both unprotected from the hot midday sun. The cockatiel was fed sunflower seed and sprigs of millet , while Juan shared his bag of stale peanuts, with the less coddled bird.
I finally had to satisfy my curiousity; one afternoon when my liunchtime business had slacked off, I walked over after the trio had entertained a gaggle of schoolkids on a field trip.
“Sr. Montoya, I notice that you treat the one bird better than you treat yourself, but the other bird, who seems to be just as big a draw, eats the same poor fare as you. Why is that?”
“Cockatiel (he had never gotten around to naming them), has expensive tastes, likes to live well.”
“On other hand”, he continues, “Toucan live as cheaply as Juan.”

Sad Story

Sally deeply regretted quitting a secure job for the lure of the stage. Her jokes fell flat, her beloved English ballads were not greeted warmly by the crowd, who snickered derisively at her ill-fitting green shoes and and jester’s hat. Yes, she was definitely going through a difficult minstrel period