Empty Words 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

A man and a woman are sitting in a bar. After some time, the woman notices that the man has not looked in her direction once. Curious, she asks the man if he would like to buy her a drink.

Playing coy the man responds, "Ma'am, you are beautiful indeed, but are you talented as well?"

Feeling flirty, the woman takes a cherry from the bar and puts it in her mouth, stem and all. Within seconds she swallows the cherry, spits out the seed, and reveals the stem, tied in a perfect knot.

The man chuckles. Without another word he picks up a cherry and pulls off the stem. He puts the stem in his mouth, and pounds the rest of his beer in one gulp, revealing and empty mouth to the woman.

Perplexed, the woman asks, "Is that supposed to impress me?"

Confidently, the man replies, "Indeed I do believe it will."

She laughs and says, "It will? Are you shitting me?"

He responds, "I shit you knot."

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

I'm a dad, and I told my dad this, so I think it counts. It got a lot of groans, so I think it's great, if a bit long.

I once lived near a small, simple town where there lived named Hugh.

Hugh was a very smart man stricken with a series of personal tragedies earlier in his life. As a result, he moved to this small town and took a job in his local florist shop, relaxing the days away arranging flowers and trying not to think of times past. Hugh grew to love working there.

One day, a disaster struck the town. A small, single engine airplane crashed a block from Hugh's shop, killing those on the plane and setting fire to several buildings, both occupied and empty.

The impact ruptured a gas line, which ultimately exploded, creating a shock wave that caused part of the building next to the florist shop to collapse and trap several of Hugh's customers and co-workers inside. The situation was desperate, as the shop would be burned to the ground at any moment.

Acting quickly, Hugh located the gas main, shutting it down. Next, Hugh noticed a water storage tank nearby, and opened a release valve that suffocated the fire before it reached his beloved shop.

With the fire out, and the florist shop saved along with those trapped inside, Hugh was a hero. The town presented him with a plaque in honor of his courageous deeds. On this plaque was a detailed etching of a bear, and Hugh was touched because he loved bears. But it was the words etched beneath that truly touched him.

"Only Hugh could prevent florist fires."

...And one of the player's name is "Miskin" (Polish setter for Jasztrebski-Wegiel, a very well known club in Poland and Europe). Us being Indonesian, the word "miskin" means "poor" as in not having money.

So during the whole game my dad would say stuff like:

• "How come does he play in a prestigious club and still end up being poor?"

• "Maybe if he gets his paycheck they will finally write "Rich" ("Kaya" in Indonesian) on his jersey."

And other phrases I managed to forget.

When he says them, my mom who isn't watching, would stop whatever she was doing to raise her head to stare into the emptiness and shake her head.