What next for punny man?

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Posted 9/27/16 (Tue)

What A Joke
By John Bayer

People ask what am I going to do now that I’m moving to Arizona. I can’t seem to think up a funny answer to that question. So instead I’ll give you the punny answer.
The first thing I’m going to do is reconnect with my girlfriend, Valerie, who works at an apiary in Tucson. When speaking to my mother on the phone yesterday, she was surprised to hear my plan. 
“I didn’t know you were still dating that bee farmer.”
“Mom, she’s a keeper.”
Valerie used to be a police officer. 
“They fired me because I spent all my time just giving speeding tickets to former boyfriends.” 
“Sounds like ex-citing work.”
Which reminds me, I’ll need to find a job. 
I recently read an article about great temp jobs for people in transition. At the top of the list was nanny (or “manny” as male nannies are sometimes called). I don’t know that I’d be a great manny, but I can promise this: if you give me three kids at the beginning of the day, you’ll get three kids back at the end of the day. I’m already having business cards made for Manny Happy Returns.
A temp job more my speed might be tutoring. I was always a good test taker in school. How hard could it be to transfer those skills to another student? Perhaps I should order another set of business cards for The Test is Yet to Come.  
I can also pick up a little money with my first love: music. (As some of you may know, I used to be the bass player in the a capella group, The B is Silent.) I was excited to learn that Tucson’s most popular band, Team, was looking for a new bass player. But then I remembered that Team is an all-girl group. There’s no guy in Team.
The local funeral director said if I bought a hearse, he could throw some work my way. When not working funerals, I figure the hearse could transport the living too – making shuttle runs to the airport and such. Death & Taxis could be a real hit!
I might become a waiter at that romantic French restaurant in town: Shut Up and Quiche Me.
With my design background, I might get a job at that store that makes banners for churches: Lord, Give Me A Sign.
And if all else fails, my parents would probably let me work at the plastic surgery center they own and run: I Bayer-ly Recognize You.
In summary, I have no idea what I’m doing.