Tom Swifties
by Freeman Ashworth — February 19, 2010
We groan when we hear puns, but it is the right thing to do for we love them. It takes the seriousness out of the conversations. This morning I want to tell you about a writer who was an expert for using puns. It was Edward L. Statemeyer who authored the Tom Swift books. He could make use of the adverb in the most unsuspecting places. For instance, should he have written ‘Goldilocks and the Three Bears,’ it might have gone something like this:
"Once upon a time in a large woods there lived a family of three bears, a mama bear, a papa bear and a wee little squirt, barely the size of a lap dog.
“I haven’t eaten all winter,” papa bear said hungrily. “Mama, let’s have some of your heavy porridge.”
“You ain’t et all winter, and you want to start this spring off with porridge?” baby bear remarked teen-agedly. “Yuk!”
“Making porridge is a piece of cake,” Mama bear said effortlessly, as she began the task.
“What? Porridge again?” Baby bear said disgustingly. As his mother poured the ingredients into the three bowls.
“Stop carping and be glad you have something to eat,” Mama Bear said thankfully.
“But it’s too hot to eat!” Baby bear complained heatedly as the bowl was set in front of him.
“Let’s go for a walk and let the breakfast cool down,” Mama Bear suggested acrobatically. “We certainly need some fresh air,”
“I’d rather finish trimming the bushes,” Papa bear hedged.
“Come on. We need the exercise,” Mama Bear said ambilitorily.
So the three bears went for a walk. In the meantime, living in the village was a little blond headed girl named Goldilocks whose custom was to rise early and go walking in the deep woods. She felt she needed exercise, too. It was her calling in life to scavenge a hot meal from unsuspecting animals she came across.
This morning, she came to the bear’s house. She knew it was the bear’s house because it was barely visible within the tall trees, besides, it had a sign out front saying ‘HOME OF THE THREE BEARS.’
Timidly, she knocked on the door. Having no one answer nor hearing any rustling inside, she tried the latch. It was open and she entered. There, in front of her was a table set with the three bowls of porridge, which she immediately decided to sample.
“This bowl’s too hot!” she fired, as she tried eating from Papa Bear’s bowl.
“This bow’s too cold!” she complained icily, as she tested the middle size bowl.
“This one’s just right,” she said gulpingly as she polished off baby bear’s bowl effortlessly.
After finishing off breakfast, Goldilocks went into the parlor and saw three chairs. She tried the big one belonging to Papa bear, and it was too hard. Then she tried Mama’s chair and it was too soft for her. Then she tried Baby bear’s little chair. It fit her size and tastes effortlessly, until it broke under the weight of the little girl and the heavy porridge.
Having done enough damage downstairs, she climbed up to the loft. “There are three beds up here. I think I will take a nap,” she said sleepily. She tried the big bed.
“This on is too hard,” she said thumpingly. She tried the middle bed.
“This one is too soft,” she soothed sweetly. She then tried the wee little bed.
“Ah, this one’s just right,” she said comfortably, and went right off to sleep.
Soon the bears returned from their walk. “Someone has been sampling my porridge,” Papa bear gristled.
“And someone has been tasting my porridge,” Mama Bear parroted.
“And someone’s been in my porridge and has (heh heh) eaten it all up!” chuckled Baby bear.
Since most of us know the real story, I shall cut it short. The bears went upstairs and found Goldilocks asleep in Baby bear’s bed.
“Can I keep her, Ma, can I?” Baby bear pleaded retainingly. “She’s so cute, can I, Ma, can I?”
“I’m sorry, Son,” Papa bear said lawfully. “You know En Con’s rules about keeping wild animals from their natural habitat.” Whereupon, Goldilocks woke up with a start, rushed from the house and ran all the way home, swiftly. “Thus ends my tale,” he said, cheerily.