Guess who ain’t getting laid tonight?
. . .said one egg to the other.
I read this thread to my horse, and asked her if she liked these barnyard puns. She replied, “Neigh.”
No. Weed have RoomInEight threads for cows eating grass.
Don’t get me started on chicken farming. Having a thousand clucks just ain’t as grand as it used to be.
And the stench? Chicken farming is an egg-cersize in peeyew-tility.
And my partner in the enterprise never does any of the work. We’re unevenly yolked.
Egg puns? Un oeuf is enough, already!
Chicken farming is not for me. I could never pullet off.
Chefguy, are you pasture prime?
…but they always come through in the clutch.
If you did it would be a pullet surprise!
Maybe I could be a chicken hero if I just put a capon.
What about your comb over?
It’s really hard to keep a breast of all these puns.
Yes, but does it meet everyone’s egg-spectations?
I have pictures of all these eggs in my albumen.
All I know is a boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.
If I was a member of Robin Hood’s merry men, I think I’d like to be Fryer Cluck.
I wasn’t sure if I liked eggs, but then I decided to whisk it.
Elmer rang the bell while I was making topping for my lemon pie.
Ho-hum. Looks like nothing eggs-citing is happening in this thread.