For those not acquainted with my family, it is a well known fact that my father is a punster. He’s a smart guy, and while his jokes occasionally fall flat, most of them are pretty good. (I laugh at the good ones anyways). But he really shines when it comes to puns. Enter my husband, also a smart guy, and a closet punster. Over the past eleven years it has been a pleasure to watch their punny battles – the mutual admiration as one of them nails a really good pun and the growing one-up-manship as the pun-skirmish gets longer and longer is a delight to behold.
The following exchange occurred this past Boxing Day. Darren and I had spent Christmas night at my sister’s house while our kids slept at my parents place. Boxing Day dawned, cloudy and cold, and the exiles were summoned back to the homestead for brunch…
(Darren is the green, Dad is the white, “NitNits” is my Dad’s word for “Tintin”. He likes to reverse words for fun. Benno becomes Onneb, you get the idea. Anyway, on with the hilarity!)
So, did you laugh or groan or both?