Quarter to Three Puns

I'm a bit drunk.

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

After a good dinner and a bottle of wine, they retire for the night, and go to sleep. Some hours later, Holmes wakes up and nudges his faithful friend.

"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."

"I see millions and millions of stars, Holmes," replies Watson.

"And what do you deduce from that?"

Watson ponders for a minute.

"Well, astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful, and that we are a small and insignificant part of the universe. What does it tell you, Holmes?"

Holmes is silent for a moment. "Watson, you idiot!" he says. "Someone has stolen our tent!"

This story happened, just shortly after my daughter was born, at work.

I had a coworker who hated puns. I had made a particular bad one, I completely forget what it was. Just an on the fly thing.

Suddenly my coworker stands up and the following exchange happens:

Him (loudly proclaiming): Puns are awful. They're terrible. Puns are the lowest form of comedy. Only the most infantile people laugh at puns. We need to have a pun jar... like a swear jar, but instead of swearing we put a quarter in it every time someone makes a pun.

Me: (after a short silence) That sounds like a GREAT idea.

Him (confused): No, it's like a swear jar but you put money into it when you swear.

Me: Yeah I understand that

Him: You'd be the hardest hit with that.

Me: Yeah, I understand that. Nevertheless it has my wholehearted support.

Him: (Now very VERY confused) Why would you support something that would hurt you more than anyone else?

Me: Because... we could totally call it the PUNishment jar.

There were three people who clearly heard this exchange. Each one busted out laughing so hard... one of them was pounding his fist into his desk. The look on this poor guy's face: priceless.

Important to know: Three of my grandparents grew up in Indiana, the other in Ohio. People from Ohio get made fun of a lot in Indiana. They're nicknamed Buckeyes.

My dad asked where I've been applying to jobs, when I told him I'm looking to move to Cincinnati, Ohio. Then he says, "Ohio? You're gonna be a full blood Buckeye yet! No wait, a one and a quarter! A dollar twenty-five!" Then he laughed so hard that he had to pass the phone to my mother. The last time I heard him laugh that hard, he was watching the Three Stooges.