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Monday morning writing joke: “Dueling puns, part 5”

Two writers who didn’t like each other met in a bar, as such writers often do. Each claimed it was his favorite bar and each claimed he had found it first. After several months of glowering at each other and bad mouthing each other, they agree to settle the matter with a duel of puns.

Since neither writer won the fourth round, a coin was tossed and the short writer was allowed to go first for round five. A set of cards was placed on the table between them, face down. On each card was a subject. The short writer flipped the card over and the subject was philosophy.

Props were allowed, and for each turn, each writer could make one phone call.
For round five, the rules were amended. Each writer had to say his pun and the audience would get to pick which one they preferred. The bartender, a waiter, and a waitress would be the judges as to who got the loudest groan.

After thinking a moment, the short writer asked, “I tried to think of philosophical pun, but I Kant.”

There was a slight groan from the patrons in the bar.

The tall writer waited until things were quiet, then he said, “A man walks into a crowded bar at a Philosophy convention. A woman at the bar looks him over, bats her eyes, and smiles. He buys her drink, then another, and another. Finally the guy between them leaves and he scoots over. She immediately gets up and starts to leave. ‘Hey,” he says, ‘what about the drinks I bought you?’ She turns back to him and says, ‘How you Spinoza time and money is not my concern.’ ‘Oh,’ he shouts, ‘You’re Socratease.’”
The crowd groaned, twice.

Round five went to the tall writer. The tall writer now had 2 wins, 1 loss, and 2 ties.” The short writer had 1 win, 2 losses, and 2 ties.

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Monday morning writing joke: “Dueling puns, part 4”

Two writers who didn’t like each other met in a bar, as such writers often do. Each claimed it was his favorite bar and each claimed he had found it first. After several months of glowering at each other and bad mouthing each other, they agree to settle the matter with a duel of puns.

Since the tall writer won the third round, he was allowed to go first for round four. A set of cards was placed on the table between them, face down. On each card was a subject. The tall writer flipped the card over and the subject was physics.

The bartender, a waiter, and a waitress would be the judges.

Props were allowed, and for each turn, each writer could make one phone call.

After thinking a moment, the tall writer asked, “What did the photon say when the hotel check-in clerk asked her if she had any luggage?”

The short writer had thirty seconds to answer. He wondered if the character being a she had anything to do with it. As in possible, the whole “she-bang,” but this wasn’t a pun about the big bang, just a photon, a discrete quantity of light. His time was about up when he said, “The photon replied, ‘No thanks, I’m traveling light.’”

The tall writer nodded.

The short writer then said, “Why can’t you trust an atom, any atom, all atoms?”

The tall writer wondered if the use of an, any, and all had anything to do with the pun, but decided to take the plunge with his first thought, “Because the make up everything.”

The short writer nodded.

Round four was a tie. Each writer had 1 win, 1 loss, and 2 ties.

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Monday morning writing joke: “Dueling puns, part 3”

Two writers who didn’t like each other met in a bar, as such writers often do. Each claimed it was his favorite bar and each claimed he had found it first. After several months of glowering at each other and bad mouthing each other, they agree to settle the matter with a duel of puns.

Since the second round was a tie, the short writer was allowed to go first for round three. A set of cards was placed on the table between them, face down. On each card was a subject. The short writer flipped the card over and the subject was grocery store.

The bartender, a waiter, and a waitress would be the judges.

Props were allowed, and for each turn, each writer could make one phone call.

After thinking a moment, the short writer drew a stack of one-dollar bills from his pocket. He was not wealthy. He counted out ten ones. “A man enters a store, buys some groceries, and pays for his purchases. He has some change due and tells the cashier he needs some ones. The cashier responds with what?”

“Everybody needs someone,” the tall writer says. “That’s not very good.”

“You can do better?”

The tall writer thinks for a minute, then says, “That same guy goes back into the store for something he forgot. When he comes back to the same cashier, he is carrying a brown sack of walnuts. The store sells nuts two different ways for different prices. The cashier takes the walnuts, weighs them, and then says, “We have a couple of different ways we sell nuts.”

“Really,” the man said. “I just grabbed a bag. How are they sold?”

The short writer thought for a minute. He scribbled something on a piece of paper, then thought for a minute more.

“Time’s up,” said the bartender. “Do you have a guess?”

“Nut of your business?” the short writer asked.

“No,” the tall writer said, shaking his head, “To half and half not.”

The short writer glowered at the tall writer.

Round three was awarded to the tall writer. Each writer had 1 win, 1 loss, and 1 tie.

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Monday morning writing joke: “Dueling puns, part 2”

Two writers who didn’t like each other met in a bar, as such writers often do. Each claimed it was his favorite bar and each claimed he had found it first. After several months of glowering at each other and bad mouthing each other, they agree to settle the matter with a duel of puns.

Since the short writer won the first round, he was given the first pun of the second round. A set of cards was placed on the table between them, face down. On each card was a subject. The short rider flipped the card over and the subject was bodily functions. The bartender, a waiter, and a waitress would be the judges, scoring each round.

Props were allowed, and for each turn, each writer could make one phone call.

After thinking a moment, he drew an outhouse and asked, “What do you call this when it sits outside a sewage treatment plant?”

The tall, thin writer thought and thought and thought. His time was almost up when he blurted out: “Outsourcing.”

The short writer nodded. The tall writer then took a comb out of his pocket and ran it through his hair several times, continuing to do so when he asked in his best burr accent, “What does a Scotsman call a young woman constantly combing her hair?”

The short writer felt sweat running down the small of his back, and just as the bartender started to ring a small bell, blurted out, “A combly lass.”

Round two was declared a tie, but the short writer was ahead 1 win, no losses, 1 tie.

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Monday morning writing joke: “Dueling puns, part 1”

Two writers who didn’t like each other met in a bar, as such writers often do. Each claimed it was his favorite bar and each claimed he had found it first.

After several months of glowering at each other and bad mouthing each other, they agree to settle the matter with a duel of puns. A set of cards was placed on the table between them, face down. On each card was a subject. Each writer in turn would flip over the top card and then each writer would have to come up with a pun that the other writer would have to guess. There would be several rounds, possibly over several nights. The bartender, a waiter, and a waitress would be the judges, scoring each round.

Props were allowed, and for each turn, each writer could make one phone call.
The tall, thin writer won the coin toss, so he decided to turn over the first card. The card read, “animal.”

The shorter, plump writer thought about it for a moment and called a friend. In a few minutes, a duck started appearing at the windows of the bar. First looking in one window, then the next, then another.

The tall writer made a few guesses, none of them right. Finally he gave up.
“Peeking duck,” the short writer said.

The bartender and wait staff nodded, thinking it was a pretty good pun.

The tall writer felt sweat running down the back of his shirt. He wasn’t sure what to do, then he had an idea and called a friend at a costume shop.

In a little while, a Panda walked into the bar, dressed in baggy clothes. Every now and then, the pants on the Panda would fall and the bear would have to bend over to pull them up, causing people to laugh, giggle, even turn red-faced every now and then.

I know what this is, the short writer said: “Panda moonin’ ’em. Pandemonium.”

Round one to the short writer.

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Monday morning writing joke: “Ship shape”

Redford Lane decided the only way he was going to become a better writer was to face his fears, starting with his fear of water. If nothing else, it would give him new material to write about.

He first tried to learn to swim, but failed. He then tried to learn to paddle a canoe, but failed there, too. Finally, he decided a bigger boat would be the answer, so he bought a barge, not realizing it did not have an engine or a sail. Still, he named the boat “O’ Courage” to both challenge and help him, and he could at least walk up and down on it while it was docked. He even took to living on it, at least some of the time.

One day, the barge slipped free of its mooring and started drifting down the river. Red grabbed a pole and tried to navigate the barge toward shore, pushing against the current with all his might. He almost had the barge stopped when the pole broke. He fell overboard and drowned.

The boat continued drifting down the river, passing by a couple of his friends who were fishing on the river. One of whom looked over and said, “Isn’t that Red’s barge, O’ Courage?”

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Monday morning writing joke: “The pro”

A writer is sitting at the bar one night. It’s a slow night, so the bartender walks over to him and says, “You a writer, right?”

The writer nods and takes a sip of his drink, hoping the guy doesn’t tell him he has a story to tell him, the writer, and that all the writer needs to do is type it up, sell it, and they split the profits.

“Mind if I ask you a question?”

“You already did.”

The bartender stares at him. “Maybe you’ve had enough to drink.”

The writer raises his hand. “Ask your question.”

“When did you become a writer?”

The writer pauses. “You sure you want to know?”

The bartender nods. “Call it professional curiosity.”

The writer finishes his drink before answering. “Well, it went like this. One day in middle school my teacher looked my way and said, ‘Name two pronouns.’ I said, ‘Who? Me?’”

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Monday morning writing joke: “The deal”

After an Artist’s Anonymous meeting, three writers were sitting around talking about the upcoming Fourth of July.

“The fireworks have already started at my house,” the first writer said, “The dog died, my wife left me, and the car wouldn’t start and that’s why I was late getting here.”

The second writer shook his head, “Change that car to a truck and you could write a country song about it.”

“No,” the third writer said, “change the car to a dragon and you could have a fantasy story about a dragon who kills a man’s dog and kidnaps his princess wife.”

“Nah,” said the first writer. “I think I’ll leave as it is. The dog’s was my wife’s and the car was in her name. And right about now she’s probably finding out the guy she left me for wasn’t such a bargain, either.”

“Why do you say that?” the other two writers asked.

“Because he was my agent.”

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Monday morning writing joke: “Natural selection”

Never laugh at your wife’s choices. Remember, you are one of them.

***

Man walks in to a department store and tells a salesperson, “I need to get something for my wife for her birthday.”

Salesperson: “What would like to give her?”

Man: “An excuse.”

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Monday morning writing joke: “Dog on it”

An editor couldn’t believe a book he was helping to publish was written by a dog, so he requested a meeting. The dog and the owner walked into the office and each sat down in a chair.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” the editor said.

The dog yawned, which the editor took to mean go ahead.

“Since you are the first dog author I have dealt with, can you tell me what it was like to write this book?”

“Rough,” said the dog.

The editor decided he should be a little more specific. “What did you think of the line edits we sent to you for changes in the manuscript?”

The dog glanced over at his owner and then cocked back his head and howled.

The editor looked at his watch. He didn’t have much more time until his next meeting. He was finding it hard to believe this wasn’t some stunt cooked up by the dog’s owner. He sighed, glanced down at the contract, and asked a question he knew the dog wouldn’t be able to answer with a bark or howl. “As a first-time author, what do you think of our book advance structure and royalty payments?”

The dog immediately hopped from the chair to the editor’s desk, hiked his leg, and peed all over the contract.

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