Acceptance

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The Direct Ratio of its WINtolerability

I put my foot on the gas and jerk off and call it fasterbation because I live for puns. One time I ran over a pedestrian in front of a sporting goods store; ran inside and bought a Lakers jersey to dress her in before the cops showed up just so I could say it was a shaqcident. They still locked me up, but it was alright, cuz I had a pocket full of nightcrawlers that I got to refer to as jailbait for five years without interruption until my cellmate hung himself.

People say they don't get me, and I tell them that they're gonna "get me" for Christmas, which isn't exactly a pun, but by this point they're usually too exasperated to call me on it. They usually just (pun)ch me in the face until blood sprays out my mouth, but that's fine as long as I'm near wet dirt, cuz then I get to call the ground Hermione cuz it's, uh, mudblood, kinda. Puns don't have to be good, they just have to be soul wrenching. Like James Brown building a spice rack, but using an odd choice of tools, because, I dunno, I guess his neighbor borrowed his hammer and never gave it back but he can't go get it now because his neighbor's on vacation or something.