...since I've posted any puns. "Are y'all havin' any symptims of depruvation?" Jill asked, concerning withdrawal.
Ok. That was bad. Real, real bad. As are the following, unapologetically harebrained Tom Swifties. The Tom Swifty is my pun préféré. Like all puns, it contains, in the brevity of its form, the twin potentials of greatness and ridiculousness. These are at once too clever by three-fourths and as self-indulgent as a dozen showers a day during a drought. Love them or loathe them, here they are.
"And now, I shall overthrow the government!" Tom cooed.
"I prefer the pumpernickel," Tom said, wryly.
"Replace the semi-colon between the month and year," Tom accommodated.
"Pass the Pepto," Tom said, abysmally.
"But how should a former husband behave?" Tom said, exactly.
"Thanks for the zester," Tom said, gratefully.
"I wish the mohel would hurry up and get here," Tom said, briskly.
"I'll stand by U," Tom said, cutely. (Get it?)
"Welcome to my apartment," Tom said, flatly.
"Lookit my foreskin!" Tom retracted.
"I can't find my daughter-in-law," Naomi said, ruthlessly.
"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him," Tom skulked.
"Imma drive you around in mah borrowed Ford," Tom said, truculently.
"Did I swallow the petroleum jelly? Did I spit it out?" Tom vacillated.
And now, my three favorites of the day:
"Mother Superior's gone missing!" Tom said, nonetheless.
"It'll be a fantastic voyage!" Tom said, inhumanely.
"Fuck you!" Tom said, effusively.
