Git outta town before PUNDOWN, foos.

I’m your worse nightmare: a black man with a gag.

This here’s an open challenge to any wordsmiths, L.A. quippers, NYC punhandlers, bon moteers, phraseologists, punned-its or wascawwy wapscallions wepwete with a way with words: if’n you think you got enough junk your trunk to match me pun for pun, whip it out and let’s see which one of y’all measures up.

First round: Free style. Go.

Askia, I asky-ya: are a cat’s paws weapons of mouse destruction?

Neither, especially if there’s detente or declaws.

Surely de cats’ claws would rip de tent?

Tentatively, yes. Which may be a felinious crime.

Askia, and ye shall receive!

That’s funny – I was feline fine, but then my shrink told me I was two tents. What a coincidence!

If we cop to the felinity, can we get off with a probity period? Or does our pun-ishment merit incarceration?

Quick with the wit, I see.

**The Scrivener. ** Yeesh. Scrivenin’ me up the wall, already.

Daithi Lacha. If you’re two tents, go camping.

Are U2 rock fans? UB40 or younger?

If you are two tents, maybe your wig is too wam.

This may take away your headache, but I be profen.

For all in tents and porpoises.

silenus. If I were two tents, you could treat me like a rapper in the UniverSoul Circus: call me B.I.G. TOPPA.

**tdn. ** Funny, I’d have sworn you were on the bathroom floor, tile and all.


I fear I may have bitten off more than I can choose.

Manta man, now, I was once a deaf intravenous drug-using fish. I had herring aids. It made me feel a little eel. (But I got out of the net on a technicality.)

I’m like the bees outside my house: just getting swarmed up here.

bringing a coalman from Tenn to Ohio so that he may kanoddle with a still living Flipper and his friends is

wait for it

Transporting a miner across state lines for immortal porpoises

Whale, whale, whale. Fish puns. That’s raising the fish steaks. I may have to get trout of here.