Running on Empty 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

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

The Duke of Dance: If i don't stop soon, you're really gonna have a bone to pick with me.

The Duke of Dance: I need to stop being such a numbskull.

The Duke of Dance: help.

Sans: I gotta write these down.

The Duke of Dance: I don't have enough backbone to deal with my own shit

The Duke of Dance: but that's tibea expected.

Sans: I find this humerus.

The Duke of Dance: damn

The Duke of Dance: stole my next one.

The Duke of Dance: I'm not fibulaing you when i say, i'm running out of material. I'm really trying to think of more puns here, but i'm patellaing you, i'm out.

Sans: I don't even know this many bone names.

The Duke of Dance: My cranium is empty. i'm running bone-dry here.

The Duke of Dance: But you'r quite sternum in your wanting of these puns.

The Duke of Dance: don't worry, i'll stop temporalily. Not really tho.

The Duke of Dance: I'm taking these puns to the maxilla.

Sans: Can you make a pelvis pun?

The Duke of Dance: Not really. I can't think of any. So no hip hip hooray here.

Sans: That was alright.

The Duke of Dance: Are you having a femury time?

The Duke of Dance: I find myself sacruming to the need to make puns.

The Duke of Dance: helpican'tstop

Sans: I'm having a pun time.

The Duke of Dance: I'm gonna turbinate my puns, cuz i'm on my last leg-bones here.

The Duke of Dance: i'm getting desperate, you can tell.

The Duke of Dance: I didn't name a specific bone.

The Duke of Dance: Which is almost completely mandableitory.

The Duke of Dance: I have made more puns tonight than i have in a LONG time.

The Duke of Dance: Throw me a bone here, have i made enough skeleton puns?

Sans: There will never be enough skeleton puns. Mind makin' a list for me?

The Duke of Dance: Do

The Duke of Dance: Do you want me to write everything i just said down for you?

The Duke of Dance: I'm quivering at the thought of coming up with more skeleton puns.

Sans: I don't see any arrows.

Sans: Don't be a lazy bones, come up with more.

The Duke of Dance: I'll see you later, my vertebrah.

Sans: Have you any backbone?

The Duke of Dance: I already made that one.

The Duke of Dance: :3

Sans: SCREW IT, I'M MAKING ANOTHER

The Duke of Dance: Not so easy coming up with fresh material, is it?

The Duke of Dance: Also, "quiver" is another name for one of your joints.

The Duke of Dance: I'm just really looking at medical sites for this shit.

Sans: CURSE YOU GOOGLE.

The Duke of Dance: it's tibea expected. <Favorite skeleton pun, using it again

Okay so I get off at 4:00 and I didn't waste any time leaving the office. Shut down my computer, grabbed my keys, and I was on the road by 4:05. It had been a pretty crazy day and I was ready to get home.

As I'm driving home I notice I'm running on Empty. I probably could have made it home but I was really craving a Coca Cola so I decide to stop at the nearest gas station.

Anyways I'm filling my tank I see an old lady a few gas pumps away putting gas in her old beat up station wagon but didn't really think anything of it and just continued to enjoy my icey cold Coca Cola.

Next thing I know I see this old lady holding the gas pump nozzle spewing gas everywhere. I guess she had taken the nozzle out of the vehicle w out disengaging the automatic trigger or whatever but it went EVERYWHERE. Her car, her arms, the ground, all over the place and by the time she got that thing to stop spraying there was at least a gallon of gas everywhere.

So I immediately run over to see if she's okay and she smells like straight up gas. I gave her napkins to dry off her hands and to clean what gas was spilled on the car. She said she was okay and thanked me for my help so I leave and head home.

So now I'm a few blocks from home, driving over the last hill right before my next turn and all of a sudden, almost out of nowhere, she comes flyin past me in that same old beat up station wagon with, I shit you not, her arm CAUGHT ON FIRE. And as if that's not bad enough there are two cops right behind her in hot pursuit. So while I'm freaking out trying to pull over to the side she zooms past so fast I barely catch a glimpse of her frantically flailing her arm out the window as they all go over the hill.

At that point couldn't believe what I was seeing it was just too crazy. So I quickly get back on the road and make my way over the hill and I spot her. She's pulled over in the emergency lane. I see the same old lady being handcuffed and put in the back of the squad car.

Yeah turns out she was arrested for waiving a fire arm in public.

¯_(ツ)_/¯

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.

I was in Elementary School at the time of this joke, and it still makes me chuckle thinking back on it. My teacher had us running a couple of laps around the school's grassy field. I always had breathing problems, what I'm assuming is mild asthma although it's never been diagnosed. I ran up to the teacher after running a few minutes and told him I lost my breath. He asked something along the lines of, "Well do you want help finding it?" He made the entire class search the ground for my breath. One equally sarcastic child brought me the empty wrapper to a Rice Crispy treat. Oh how I loved that teacher.