It’s a tough question, but an appropriate one to ask this time of year:
Q: Why did Humpty Dumpty have a great fall?
A: to make up for a lousy summer.
Our man Humpty tried his best to be a good egg, but frequently suffered from shell shock.
Don’t mean to scramble your thoughts or egg you on, but you may have guessed by now that this Virginia ham is about to shell out another onerous omelet of poached pundemoanium and wisecracks. For egg-sample …
In equations with square numbers I can never find the root of the problem.
Nepotism is okay as long as it’s kept in the family (is that putting on heirs?).
He made a slow start in the sport of weightlifting but picked it up eventually.
If you actually look like your passport photo, you aren’t well enough to travel.
The builder, who was retiring, said to his son, “This is all yours now, son.” The son replied, sadly, “I dunno, dad. You’re a hard hat to follow!”
This is the price you pay for reading these eggscrutiating puns . . .
Pepper: Price of a pick me up.
Peract: Price of part of a play.
Percent: Price of a penny.
Perforate: Price of holes.
Permute: Price of silence.
Where did the little king keep his armies? Up his sleevies!
Under the full moon, Hamlet turned into a werewolf. Gazing up at the beautiful moon he came up with the famous line, “To bay or not to bay…”
And, if all the world’s a stage, be careful you don’t trip over a prop.
I hate the price of candy at the movie theater. They’re always raisinette.
I tried wrapping Christmas presents, but I didn’t have the gift.
A rule of grammar (your mother’s mother): double negatives are a no-no.
Jim: “Welcome to Walla.”
Bob-Boy: “I thought it was Walla-Walla.”
Jim: “It’s not half the place it used to be.”
For the record: While colporteur is a peddler of religious books, rapporteur is not a peddler of modern urban song CDs.
I didn’t want to buy leather shoes, but eventually I was suede.
John Deere’s manure spreader is the only equipment the company won’t stand behind.
I’m drawn to art (and draw flies in the process).
I met the woman of my dreams at the base of Mount Vesuvius. She is the lava my life.
I’m feeling a little hoarse by now (neigh!), and definitely not that stable. Here’s proof . . .
Equipoise: A self-assured horse
Equidistant: A far-off horse
Equivocal: A talking horse
Equinox: A nightmare
Equilibrium: An equine book collection.
When making butter, there is little margarine for error.
How do two snails settle their differences? They slug it out (in slow motion, however).
Bacon and Eggs walk into a bar. The bartender looks up and snarls, “We don’t serve breakfast!”
Which leads to this eggciting conclusion . . .
During the Revolutionary War, the British sympathizers among the colonists were known as Tories. Some would work hand-in-hand with the Redcoats to try to foil the battle plans of the Continental Army.
After a certain skirmish, a group of General Washington’s men tracked one of these sympathizers to a farm, which they searched for hours without success. A militiaman then came up with the idea to release a hen into a barn where they suspected the fugitive might be hiding. Sure enough, loud cackling and commotion quickly ensued, and the soldiers were finally able to take their prisoner into custody. This was the first known instance where someone had a chicken catch a Tory.
Please don’t fire me until you see the whites of my eyes. (The yolk’s on you).
Hens forth, no more puns! But they’re capuns! I think it’s time to I call an eggs ban edict and make my eggsit.
Jim (Eggo-maniac) Bishop scrambles word pictures as public information office at Eastern Mennonite University. Egg him on at [email protected].