A Night on the Town Puns

Because motherboard

Stalagtights.

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

At first the curse just brought him bad luck, causing vital equipment to break and provoking frequent but small injuries to him and his crew. Soon, however, the curse darkened and diggers the man had hired to help work his claim began to die in bizarre ways.

One was killed by an African scorpion that should never have made it to Alaska, let alone have survived the cold. A second drank a gallon of the mercury used to separate the gold from the ore. A third was found with a tree growing up through his body.

The man himself who owned the claim became more and more pale. His eyes became all white. His skin began to give off an overpowering smell of sulfur. He slept all day and at night he wandered the mountain above his claim, coming back each day looking more like a beast than a man.

The curse became so bad the last worker alive ran away to the nearest town to tell the authorities what was happening at the claim.

In an attempt to save the claim owner's life and lift the curse, a priest was brought in by dogsled to perform an exorcism on the man.

A sherriff from the town came with the priest as a bodyguard.

The exorcism was long, but apparently successful. Immediately the man's color returned, the sulfur smell disappeared, and he was able to sleep through the night for the first time in six months.

After the man awoke, the sherriff immediately arrested the man and brought him back to town with the priest. Standing in front of the judge, the sherriff was asked what charge the law had against the claim owner whose life had just been so dramatically turned around.

The sherriff looked at the man, then looked back at the judge and said in a slow and rumbling voice, "Possession as a miner."

I remember years ago when in my remote town in Alaska there were 10 men stuck underground. I don't recall the circumstances that got them into this situation but it was clear that if they didn't get out soon they weren't going to make it.

All of our local rescue and public services were unable to get them out and they were running out of time. With only 18 hours remaining they sent for the only expert who could help, a rescue operations legend Mr. Puh. If he could get a plane into town it could make all the difference.

I remember gathering around the radio, biting our nails, as weather conditions worsened and threatened the planes journey.

I don't remember how long I stayed awake that night, but I will never forget the words I heard when I turned the radio on in the morning: "Puh not in, ten dead."

Here's a joke my dad told me. Sorry if you've heard it, but I found it hilarious, and I think you might enjoy it.

In a small town in the suburbs, there was a small family of balloons. There was a mummy balloon, a daddy balloon, and a small child balloon. Every night the boy would sleep between his parents, but his father had had enough.

"son, I know you love sleeping between us, but you're getting a bit too old for it., " the father said. "You're nearly 8, you're a big boy, and your mother and I think you should sleep in your own bed from now on. You can stay tonight but starting tomorrow we want you in your own bed. Do you understand?"

"Yeah dad, I understand..." the boy said with a maudlin tinge to his voice.

"okay son, I love you."

"love you too dad"

The next night the boy tried sleeping in his own bed, but there was a storm outside. It was a dark, ominous storm - the kind of storm that sounds like a cataclysm for the end of the world.

The boy was scared, so he went to sleep in his parents room. However when he tried to squeeze between them, he found he didn't fit. He felt defeated. He felt scared. He felt alone.

But then an idea struck him. He decided he'd just let a little bit of air out of his father. He tried to squeeze in again, but had no such luck. So he let a little bit of air out of his mother. He tried again. Still no luck. Finally, he decided to let some air out of himself. Success! He squeezed in tightly and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning his parents were furious. His father was feeling particularly angry, and screamed at his son.

"son, I told you not to sleep in our room. I told you to sleep in your own bed! Didn't I say that Hun?"

"yes dear," the mother said, feeling slightly deflated.

"so son, what do you have to say for yourself?" the father asked in anger.

"it was dark and stormy and..." the boy tried to spit out.

"I don't care son!" the father interrupted. "you can't keep doing this! I'm very disappointed. You've let me down, you've let me down, but worst of all..."

This past week I've been working in a town where almost the entire infrastructure is based on mining. One night I was sitting in my hotel room talking to my girlfriend, and this happened.

Her: "I bet bars there get in trouble all the time."

Me: "Why do you say that?"

Her: "Because they serve miners."

So this group of Irish monks needs to make payments on their belfry, and they've begun to run out of money, so after racking their brains for a few nights, and trying everything they could to get some cash together, they decide to sell flowers to make money. For weeks they sell flowers, and it's going well. Too well in fact, they've begun to run the local florist, Patty O'Flannigan out of town. Well, a bit cheesed at the monks jumping in on his territory, he decides to confront them. He asks them to step off, politely, but they simply respond that, "That's no way to talk to men of God!", and throw him out of their monastery. For weeks this goes on, the monks selling flowers, and the florist getting more and more desperate to make them stop. Finally, he goes to Hugh Mactaggart, the biggest, baddest man in town -- he could get anyone to leave town -- so Patty decides he's the best way to get rid of the monks, gives him the rest of the money, and retires to bed, wary of the results. In the morning, a knock on his door reveals Mactaggart, offering a firm handshake and saying, "They shant be botherin' ya again Patty." The moral of the story is, Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars.

My friend (L) and I (B) ended up in a pun war. She had to wake up super early to catch a flight, and this was at about one in the morning:

L: I should definitely set my alarm to 'cow' o.O

B: Haha, do it. Nothing like waking up to cows in the 'moo'rning.

L: Oh my gosh. Absolutely not.

B: Hey, but it would be so 'udder'ly hilarious!

L: I just got stabbed to death by a pun.

B: I'm just trying to 'milk' it for all it's worth...

L: If I did that, I'm not sure I'd wake up in a happy 'moo'od.

B: Just drink some 'calf'inated coffee, and you'll be fine.

L: I'd be laughing 'stock' of the town... Cows don't have a sense of humor.

B: Bull!

L: I'll just use my cowculator do determine how much sleep I'm actually going to get tonight...

B: You could wake up a little later, but you'd have to 'hoof' it to the airport.

L: Hope the weather is good, so my plane isn't 'ground'ed 'beef'.

B: That's stretching it... You should make more of an 'heifer't to come up with good puns.

L: I know when I'm getting creamed.

B: It's hard to 'steer' you in the right direction, because you keep changing topics.

L: That's udderly ridiculous. I'm just trying to mooove on.

B: And I just keep churning 'em out...

L: No, you're just spinning your 'veal's.

B: That's one of the best ones I've herd all night!

L: I thought I might've butchered it...

B: PETA might have a beef with you because of it, though...

L: Well done, well done...

B: I don't think they care leather or not you personally slaughtered it, too.

L: See now, I wish you'd stop 'grilling' me about the bad puns... You should 'patty' yourself on the back. I 'dairy' you to come up with more.

B: Well, you can certainly steak a claim for being able to hold your own...

L: I'm a natural 'barn' comedian. However, I really should quit 'yak'king and go to bed. :p

B: Okay, that's not cows... You lose. You 'cud' have done a lot better.

L: The grass is greener on the other side, okay? Also, cows live in barns, and yaks are related to cows.

B: It was still quite a stretch... Don't have a cow about it.

L: Ha anymoo. Goodnight! Also, don't die of mad cow disease.

I was hanging my car keys on the key hook for the night. My wife, leaving town for a few days says: I remembered to leave the mail key on the hook

Me: that's good, the female key was getting lonely.

Not even a smirk from her. I made myself snicker out loud!

I was asked to help chauffeur a carload of youth around town for a Christmas caroling activity last night. One of the names on the list was Jack, who lost his wife earlier this year. Jack is in his early 90's, stands about 5'2, and is quite possibly the king of all dad jokes.

So, the group of about 25 kids and 5 adults sneak up to his doorstep and begin singing a few short Christmas carols. Eventually, he opens the door and is thrilled to have visitors.

After we are finished singing and the kids are all running back to the vehicles to get out of the 15 degree weather, jack steps out of his doorway and on to his porch. He is wearing a light t-shirt and pajama pants... he was setting us up, and we took the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

Woman: Are you freezing?

Jack: No, I'm not freezing, I'm Jack (pause for laughter)

Jack: but if you hang on for just a minute, I can get freezing for you.

and then he just stood there smiling at us. It was precious. Come to find out, Jack is entering a retirement home in a few days because he is getting to the point that it is hard to take care of himself anymore.

Oh boy, those nurses are in for a treat once Jack gets settled in.