Hand it to me, I’ll hand it to you

A hand cart full of hands would be handy if not dandy I would never hand such out on a Halloween night instead of candy.

“All hands on deck!” Shouted the ship captain. What happened next was both predictable and unexpected. And horrible. Horrible.

The reason I can get away with telling severed hand jokes is that I am handy-capable. I’ve got it well in hand. Around here somewhere.

Back in the brutal past, a relay race was a handoff.

The one armed pianist asked if you would please give him a hand.

The one armed bandit never applauds when someone wins.

The unarmed bandit had a handsome sidekick.

His side line was in manufacturing side cars for the left-handed.

Things are all going to hell in a hand cart. Which is a cart full of hands, swept up from the deck of a ship where all hands were on deck, granted to an unarmed man and his handsome sidekick, The one armed bandit who must hold the applause.

I will not surrender to the beat. I wish to speak to my attorney, Dr. Rock, attorney at law, who is also my physician. I hand it to him. But he gave me the finger.

I went to the club but I was dismembered.

The love triangle
The Piano Roll made a clean break and got away. It stole the keys, you see. It didn’t do it alone. It had musical accompaniment. Despite what you’ve heard, there are no one-man bands.
The Piano Roll was found, amid the bales of hay, with a Dinner Roll, whom it found sweet. There was dinner and music until the cows came home. Then it was the same, but with more cowbell. Dingaling!

I am made of various kinds of sauces, none of which are available commercially, which, when added together, a kind of alchemist’s elixir, this is referred to “on the street” as, yes, “Awesome Sauce.” But that is not its official name.

Hands off. Buddy.