Clean & Clear Puns

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

tl;dr explain every single pun you make or else it gets removed.

For the sake of cleaning up a lot of my mod queue, whenever you make a post, explain it. There's been more and more rule 6 reports as of late, so this should help clear up a lot of that. This rule change is to lessen confusion and simultaneously help us clear out the reposters who are too lazy to even read the sidebar before posting. formerly rule 6 was:

Post must be a pun and must be explained in the comments. If your post or image isn't self-explanatory, you must comment on it with enough information for readers to get the joke.

We are now changing it to:

Post must be a pun and must be explained. No exceptions! You must explain your pun somewhere in the text or in the comment section.

###IF YOU DO NOT EXPLAIN YOUR PUN, IT WILL BE REMOVED!

carry on

I didn't make the joke in english but it translates well.

We just had lunch and my mom was clearing out the table and putting stuff in the dishwasher while my brothers and my dad were talking about the party we were going to that afternoon. My mom and dad would go there by bike and my brothers and I would take the car.

Then my mom said: "should I turn on the dishwasher so everything will be clean when we'll return?"

On which I commented: "That's not fair, we go by car, and you by bike, while the dishwasher has to run?"

I live on a sail boat and started what I thought would be a small project. I wanted to ensure that my toilet plumbing was working correctly before having a guest over so I turned on my macerator and began pumping clear water through the system to clean the toilet and clear the system completely. For those that don’t know, a macerator is basically a garbage disposal like you would have in your kitchen sink buttttt for your poop. It cuts up your poop and toilet paper so that it can be discarded over board in smaller pieces. Of course the pump wasn’t working correctly so I detached some plumbing, looked into the macerator motor and got way more into it than I had planned for. My guest was on her way and I didn’t want to necessarily tell her what I was dealing with because I didn’t want to gross her out. When she showed up I was just putting stuff away and had finished the project. Of course she asked what I was working on, I proclaim “ oh I just needed to deal with some shit” and left it at that.

Me to my dad: "I like cleaning glass. It ends up satisfyingly clean when your done"

my dad: "It's always nice to have clear objectives"

When I asked if he folded the possible reference to objective lenses into the joke on purpose, he just winked.

So, my dad could be considered a regular jokester. He had his dad jokes, his dirty jokes, clean but provocative joke, setup jokes, everything. He never missed a chance to turn something into a joke for hinself, even, and perpahs especially, if it only amused himself. I found out at an young age that no situation is too serious for him.

I was around 9 years old and I was in the cub scouts, and it was box car derby season. I was in the dining room, carving away at my block of wood when the blade in my right hand skipped the wood and carved my left thumb. It fucking hurt and bled like a sonofabitch. I immediately starting screaming and my dad raced into the room and found me covered in blood, my left hand now with two thumbs. We get it wrapped and he drives me to the emergency room. By the time we got there the bleeding had stopped and I have stopped crying. As we pull up, my dad looks st me, shakes his head and says "We can't go in there like this, we'll end up waiting forever to see a doctor. You need to cry once we're in there and that'll help" I said ok, and he said as we were walking up, "I'll give you a signal to start crying." How will i know, i asked him snd he just said i'll know. We go inside and walk up to the admittance desk. I'm short, so at the time my head just cleared the desk. My dad tells the nurse that we have a cut, and need to see a doctor right away. The nurse pushes paperwork at him and he tells her again, this time that its a real bad cut. The nurse finally looks at me for the first time and she frowns, because im relatively normal looking, even though im hurting and nervous, waiting for my dads signal. My dad pulls me back a bit and her eyes widen really big when she sees all the dried blood caked on the lower left side of my body. She starts getting excited and says "Ohmygoshohmygosh" over and over and this point im starting to get scared when my Dad, in a serious voice says "Its even worse than it looks! You're going to have to take the whole hand!"

Then I start crying.

My mum complained that my dad took a photo of her, whilst she was wearing her "kitchen cleaning glasses" as they look bad. I sarcastically offer to get her car cleaning glasses instead as they're clearly more fashionable.

My dad on the other hand stands there with his fake concerned/confused. When i ask what's wrong, he asks with a smug grin on his face "Why would you use glasses to clean the kitchen? Surely a mop or cloth would be more practical".

We all left the room.

My mother, my father, and I were eating lunch and just about finished when the Busser lady comes and clears my plate

Her: no rush, no rush...just cleaning up.

My Dad: oh we're American...

Her:confused and walks away with my finished plate.

I bite: What do you mean?

My Dad: We're not Russian, we're American.

My mom: rolls here eyes

While we were across the road cleaning up the fence line to get better access to the blackberries growing there was this one oak tree being strangled by vines and whatnot. Once we got it cleared up my mom said something to the effect of, "This poor tree was dying but I think we just saved it." I responded with, "Yeah, I think it was on it's last limb." The look on my mom's face was priceless.