61 Marvel Puns That Are Truly Loki Hilarious
Marvel puns are the one thing I never get tired of making, even when they’re bad. Especially when they’re bad.
Brunch is the only meal where it’s socially acceptable to drink champagne at 10 AM and call it “self-care.” I’ve been thinking about brunch puns for an embarrassing amount of time this week, and honestly, some of these are great and some of them should probably be arrested. But here we are.
Let’s raise a toast to brunch! And I mean that in both senses, the celebratory kind and the carb kind. Preferably sourdough.
I’m egg-static about brunch, and no, I will not apologize for starting with an egg pun. It’s tradition. It’s law.
You’re bacon me crazy.
Why did the mimosa break up with the Bloody Mary? Because it found someone less salty.
Brunch is my main squeeze. Think about it, orange juice, lemon on the crepes, lime in the agua fresca. The whole meal is just citrus and audacity. I love this pun so much I’d put it on a tote bag and carry it to the farmer’s market without a shred of irony.
I told my friend I couldn’t decide between pancakes and waffles. She said, “Don’t waffle, just commit.” I’ve never been so annoyed and impressed at the same time.
Brunch is my jam.
(Strawberry, specifically. Maybe fig if the place is fancy.)
Yeah, I squeezed three waffle puns into one entry. What are you gonna do, call the brunch police?
Orange you glad it’s brunch?
Pancakes are my butter half. Send this to whoever you’re dragging to brunch this weekend. They need to know.
Mornings are brew-tiful with coffee. ☕
That’s it. That’s the caption. You’re welcome.
What do you call a brunch where nobody shows up? A mis-steak. Okay wait, that’s more of a dinner pun. I’m keeping it anyway because I already typed it.
Let’s espresso ourselves at brunch.
I could eat eggs all day. No yolk.
Brunch: the yeast I can do for myself on a Sunday. This one works on like three levels if you think about the bread, the minimal effort of showing up somewhere and pointing at a menu, and the fact that yeast literally makes things rise, like me, at 11 AM, barely. I’m probably overthinking it but I don’t care. This pun is my child.
You’re the avocado to my toast.
Bloody Mary, full of grace, blessed art thou amongst brunchers. I didn’t write this one originally but whoever did deserves a Pulitzer and a celery stalk.
Why did the French toast go to therapy? Too much emotional batter-ing.
Can we talk about how brunch menus always have that one item that’s just regular dinner food with a fried egg on top? Like, you put an egg on a burger and suddenly it’s “brunch-appropriate.” I respect the hustle. Anyway, back to puns.
This brunch is berry good.
I told the waiter I wanted my eggs sunny side up. He said, “That’s a bright idea.” We both pretended it was funny. It was 9:30 AM. Nobody had enough coffee yet.
Brunch so hard, mimosas wanna find me.
My eggs Benedict arrived with the hollandaise broken, and honestly? It was an emulsion-al rollercoaster. If you’ve ever tried to make hollandaise from scratch and watched it split into a sad buttery puddle, you understand. If you haven’t, just trust me, this pun is funnier than it looks.
Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Unless it’s a brunch basket. Then absolutely do that.
Let’s get this bread! Both figuratively and literally, can we get another basket for the table?
You’re flippin’ awesome!
This brunch is un-brunch-lievable. Yeah. I know. That one barely holds together. It’s the duct tape of puns. Moving on.
What do you call an indecisive person at brunch? A waffle-r.
Brunch without you is just breakfast. Genuinely cute. Would text this to someone. Have texted this to someone. She replied “lol” and nothing else, which is the emotional equivalent of a read receipt.
I asked for a shakshuka and the kitchen sent out scrambled eggs in marinara. That’s not the same thing and I will die on this hill. You can’t just poach eggs in tomato sauce and call it, wait, actually, that IS shakshuka. Okay. I guess you could say I was in a real stew about nothing. The pun is “stew.” Because it’s… a saucy egg dish… look, this one’s a stretch and I’m owning it.
I’m on a roll with these brunch puns.
Don’t chai to resist brunch. Just give in.
Avocado a good time! 🥑
Instagram caption number two. Go forth. Post it. Tag me. (Don’t actually tag me.)
Brunch is butter than anything. No ifs, ands, or butter about it.
I crammed two butter puns into one entry because I have no self-control, kinda like when the bread basket arrives.
Who decided that brunch needs to cost $22 per plate? I’m eating eggs. EGGS. I can make eggs at home for like forty cents. But no, these eggs have chives on them and they’re on a slate board, so that’ll be twenty-two dollars plus tip. The ambiance tax is real.
Why did the croissant go to brunch alone? It didn’t knead anyone.
I’m feeling bubbly about brunch. The champagne helps.
This brunch is a-dough-rable. I typed it, I stared at it, I sighed, and I’m leaving it in. Sometimes puns are just bad and that’s okay. Character building.
Mimosa-ly the best meal of the week.
“What are you ordering?”
“The smoked salmon plate.”
“Oh, lox of fun.”
“Please stop.”
Brunch is the most important meal of the weekend. I don’t make the rules. (I absolutely make the rules.)
I’m so glad we could meat for brunch. It works because you’re meeting people AND eating meat, but also there’s something about the earnestness of it that just gets me. Like you genuinely are glad. And there’s also sausage. Perfection.
You can’t brunch with us.
What do you call a brunch that starts at 2 PM? Lunch with denial.
(Okay that’s not really a pun, it’s just true.)
The restaurant tried to serve me a Dutch baby but it was flat in the middle. I told the waiter it clearly hadn’t risen to the occasion. If you don’t know what a Dutch baby is, it’s a German pancake that puffs up dramatically in the oven and then deflates the moment you look at it wrong. Tbh it’s the most emotionally fragile food item I’ve ever encountered.
Let’s ketchup at brunch.
Sunny side up, my eggs AND my mood.
I’ve got a brunch of feelings for you. Send this one to your group chat before the reservation. Trust me.
I’m so syrup-ticiously happy about this meal. Is “syrupticious” a word? No. Does it sound enough like “surreptitiously” to count? Barely. Am I including it? Obviously. This is a pun blog, not a courtroom.
This brunch is a real treat-ment.
Ngl, “But first, coffee” isn’t really a pun but it IS the most accurate three-word sentence in the English language, so it makes the list on vibes alone.
What do you call someone who’s obsessed with eggs Benedict? A hollandaise-ic personality.
…I’ll see myself out.
Brunch is a piece of cake. Specifically, coffee cake. With the crumble topping. From that one place on 5th that always has a 45-minute wait but you go anyway because the crumble-to-cake ratio is immaculate. This pun isn’t even doing anything clever and I still love it because it made me think about coffee cake and now I want coffee cake.
You’re egg-stra special.
This brunch is truly a-peeling. Especially the fruit plate. Which, let’s be real, nobody ordered the fruit plate. It came with the table and everyone’s pretending they didn’t want the extra side of hash browns instead.
I know. Three egg puns in a row. The egg well is running dry and I’m scraping the shell. These are the “we have puns at home” puns.
I asked the barista to surprise me. She handed me a decaf. I’ve never felt more betrayed. You could say it was… grounds for termination.
Brunch is my favorite sport. Competitive eating, endurance sitting, and the 100-meter mimosa relay.
My friend tried to correct me when I called it a “croque madame” instead of a “croque monsieur.” I told her the difference is that madame has a fried egg on top. She said, “That’s barely a different sandwich.” I said, “Egg-scuse me?” We’re not friends anymore. We’re still friends. But she’s wrong and the egg makes it superior.
I’m all about that brunch life. 🥂
This brunch is tea-riffic. And if you’re actually drinking tea at brunch instead of coffee or a cocktail, I respect your energy. Quietly. From over here. With my mimosa.
Don’t be a muffin, come join us!
Okay I think that’s enough. My brain is fully scrambled at this point, which, wait. That’s another one. Sixty-four puns if you count that last scramble. I’m going to go eat actual brunch now and try not to make puns out loud to the waiter. I’m bacon no promises.
Marvel puns are the one thing I never get tired of making, even when they’re bad. Especially when they’re bad.
So, What Even Is a Pun? A pun is a joke that exploits the multiple meanings of a word, or the fact that two different words sound alike. That’s it.
Shakespeare is the only writer who makes you feel both smarter and dumber at the same time.
Pan puns are one of those beautiful categories where the wordplay practically writes itself and yet somehow I still manage to overthink every single one.
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