Suck It and See Puns

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

my wife walked by and I sucked in my gut, she said "That won't help" I said "Yes it will, now I can see the numbers"

My parents got me a vacuum for Christmas. I got it out of the box today and tried it out while they were getting groceries.

My dad comes home and sees the vacuum sitting out and asked if it worked alright.

"It really sucks!"

He looked worried for a second and I just started laughing. He finally caught on and he let out a groan.

One of the oldest ones in the book, but I was proud of it.

And he's not letting anyone go home at reasonable hours or take leave until the big project's . He's been working early mornings and late nights . It's been going on for weeks. they're all tired and homesick. I haven't had a meal with him at home all month which really sucks because he was a great laugh at dinner time. Even when I do see him he's too overworked to even think straight.

Anyway, yesterday Phil, one of his workmates had a brilliant plan.

He turned to my Dad and said to him; "I've had enough of this crap, I'm going home and calling in sick for the next couple of days!"

My dad is amazed. "Phil!" he says, "You can't do that - you'll get sacked!"

"Don't worry, mate," says Phil, "I've got it all worked out." tapping his nose. Out of the blue he reaches up and grabs the ceiling fan (It was off) and hangs upside down from it. My dad has no idea what's going on and tries to ask him, but Phil doesn't answer.

Eventually the boss walks in and asks "Phil - what the Hell are you doing?"

"I'm a lightbulb." replies Phil.

The boss is surprised and realises the guy needs to go home and sends him off for a couple of days. All of a sudden my Dad gets up too and walks away.

"What do you think you're doing?" says the boss.

"You don't expect me to work in the Dark do you?" replies my Dad.

Had a seizure. Epilepsy sucks. I woke up, then this happened.

Dad: "Ah, you're awake. Did you see God?"

I couldn't quite see yet, but I knew he was waiting to say something clever. So I tried to turn it around before I passed out again.

Me: "I don't know. I might have. If I did, he bears a striking resemblance to the carpet."

Dad: "Let us thank the Floored that you didn't hurt yourself."

My stepmother said he made several more while I was out in the ER and in the ambulance.

Goddammit, dad.