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A little bit of Background information:  When I was a young lad, my father was a professional glass cleaner.   Not just for a job, cleaning Glass was this man's passion!  He always wanted me to take over for him when I grew up, but I always thought it would be a pain, it was a silly job, really.   However, I knew that my father would be shattered if I didn't put an honest effort into the cleaning business.    The first time I perfectly cleaned a mirror, I realized I could really see myself doing this!   My father was wiping away tears of pride when I began to become as passionate as he was.

Anyways, fast forward to a couple months ago.   I have taken over my father's cleaning company, and was working a job at a publishing agency.  Now, due to the pandemic, this building had set up different entry points depending on the purpose of your visit, and each one was gated and stationed by an employee so you could have your temperature taken and go through a checklist to ensure you don't have any symptoms, etc.

After finishing the contract at this building, the owner was so impressed with my work that he said he would like to recommend me for a permanent job with a friend of his.   At first, I was skeptical (I had taken over the family business, after all), but it was becoming difficult to find regular clients anymore, so I agreed.    He gave me a single sheet from a notepad, and told me to write down something about myself that sets me apart from others in my line of work, and I should make it a very impactful statement,  his friend was a very busy man and wouldn't look at more than notes like these.    I wasn't sure what to write on the spot, so he told me to think about it, and return the note when I come back to leave the bill for my work.

So I came back a few days later, went through the gate to drop off my bill and my note about how I am much better than any other glass cleaner out there.    Well, it turns out the friend of the publishing agency's owner was a hiring manager for a well-known computer company, and my note really caught his eye, and I was offered the job!   Now I make more money every two weeks than I had with a month!   At first, I though my father would be upset by me leaving the family business behind, but he told me "As long as you are happy where you are, with what you are doing, then you are succeeding in life.  You are no longer a student of glass cleaning, you are my equal, and I am proud of you"  I never realized how freeing it

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

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

The insect police force was tracking one of these malaria-mosquitos, when the mosquito fled to a farm. First, she tried to hide in the house, until the farmer chased her away with a newspaper. She tried to hide in the barn with the horses, but the barn cat took a few swipes at the mosquito, and chased it from the barn.

Finally, the mosquito set eyes on sheep in the pasture.she decided all that thick wool would be the perfect place to hide from the insect police force.

The police force arrived shortly after. They first went to the house. No mosquito. They searched the horses. No mosquito. Finally, they got to the pasture with the sheep. After searching and searching, they could not find where the mosquito had hidden.

The mosquito was on the lamb.

Funniest horse puns and jokes

A white horse walks into a pub and asks for a whisky. The landlord says: “Hey, we’ve got a whisky named after you.” The horse replies: “What, George?”

A horse trudges slowly into a pub and orders a drink. “Evenin’” says the barman, “why the long face?”

A horse walks into a smart cocktail bar. The doorman says: “Wait you can’t come in here without a tie.”The horse goes out to his car, looks in the boot and gets a set of jump leads, which he ties around his neck.He goes back in and says to the barman: “This alright?” The barman says: “Hmm, ok… but don’t be starting anything.”

A poorly-looking horse limps into a bar with a bandage round his head. He orders a glass of champagne, a vintage brandy and two pints of Guinness. He downs the lot and says to the barman: “I shouldn’t really be drinking this with what I’ve got?” “Why, what have you got?” “About £2 and a carrot.”

Which side of a horse has more hair? The outside What’s a horse’s favourite TV show? Neighbours

A racehorse owner takes his horse to the vet. “Will I be able to race this horse again?,” he asks The vet replies: “Of course you will, and you’ll probably win!”

Did you hear about the depressed horse? He told a tale of whoa!

A dead horse walks into a bar and orders a whisky.

“I’m sorry, sir,” says the barman. “We don’t serve spirits..

A talking horse walks into a bar and approaches the manager. “Excuse me, good sir,” the horse says, “are you hiring?” The manager looks the horse up and down and says, “Sorry, pal. Why don’t you try the circus?” The horse nickers. “Why would the circus need a bartender?”

Did you hear about the man who was hospitalized with six plastic horses inside him? The doctor described his condition as stable.

What did the horse say when it fell? “I’ve fallen and I can’t giddyup!”

Q. What does it mean if you find a horseshoe? A. Some poor horse is walking around in his socks.

A man rode his horse to town on Friday. The next day he rode back on Friday. How is this possible? The horse’s name was Friday.

Why did the pony have to gargle? Because it was a little horse!

What did the horse say when it fell? I’ve fallen and I can’t giddyup!

What did the teacher say when the horse walked into the class? Why the long face?

What do you call a horse that lives next door? A neigh-bo

My dad told me this the first time on Halloween night back when I was 9. He tells it to this day to any of my cousins, nephews, or any kids that happen to linger too long at the house when he's giving out candy. It's a long one but I have always enjoyed it.

Back when I was about your age, I went on a Halloween adventure. There was an old abandoned house on our street where a series of grisly axe murders had taken place years before. The house had never sold and was left vacant and was left to fall apart. There was a local legend that if you went into the house on Halloween night, you'd be confronted by the ghost of the murderer himself, still looking for more victims to add to his terrifying story.

My friend Tom and I decided to go through with it one year. Knowing everyone would be too terrified to go into the house, we snuck in easily on Halloween night. The place was falling apart inside, the carpet was wet and moldy and the wallpaper was peeling off everywhere. We headed down carefully to the basement down a set of creaky stairs.

At first we found nothing. Just an empty creepy old house. Suddenly we felt as if we were being watched. I was looking through one of the rooms in the large basement when I suddenly heard Tom shriek. I spun around and turned my flashlight and Tom was being chased by something, no someone. It looked like it was the murderer! A crazed man with an axe!

We turned and tried to run anywhere. We were in the basement but couldn't get up the stairs because we were blocked. We ran into the side room which looked like it might have been the laundry years ago. We locked the door and looked for a way out. The only thing we could find was a small window that opened onto ground level. As I climbed out I heard a pounding on the door. I managed to wriggle my way through the window and turned around to help my friend Tom. Panicking, he managed to get his top half through the window when I noticed the pounding stop.

Tom was stuck! I kept trying to pull him up but I couldn't. I pulled as hard as I could as Tom panicked and thrashed even more. I thought something had him caught, but it was even worse. The murderer had gotten behind him and was holding him back! He was too strong for me to overcome and he was pulling Tom's leg!

Just like I've been pulling yours this whole time.