Why do puns in my brain insist on being told? Like this one?
There’s a condition called Witzelsucht, which I learned of here that might be a clue.
But I don’t think I’ve got it.
I don’t have to tell jokes all the time. But I do have to repeat a good pun, at least once before it lets me rest.
Like the one that follows.
I’m tired of fighting.
My Christmas gift
This year for Christmas, Bobbi gave me a bunch of pairs of socks.
I thought that was pretty odd. And then I remembered.
She’d asked me several months before, “What could I give you for Christmas?”
I answered her, but she must have misheard me and thought I’d said: “I’d like more socks.”
OK, that’s out of my system.
The whole story is made up—except for actually getting the socks.
Now, back to our regular programming.
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