The Edge of Night 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 doctor is driving home one night along a lonely road when a rabbit suddenly bolted in front of his car. The doctor swerved and tried his best to stop, but it wasn't possible and the car hit the bunny.

He immediately pulled the car to the side of the road and got out to see if he could help the poor bunny. It didn't look good. He raced back to the car to retrieve his bag, but realized almost instantly that he was driving his wife's car and so his bag wouldn't be there.

He frantically rooted through the glovebox, trying to find gauze or water - anything that could be useful. He found a bottle of what he expected was water and brought it back to where the bunny was laying. With great care, he poured a cap full and let the bunny drink.

To the doctor's amazement, the rabbit sprang back to life - jumping up on his hind legs and wiggling his tail. He smiled at the doctor and waved as he began to prance back toward the woods. He hopped a couple of feet, paused, turned and waved again. Hopped another few feet, turned and waved yet again. He reached the edge of the trees and again, he turned and waved at the doctor.

Stunned, the doctor brought the bottle up to the light to see what magic potion he had discovered. Squinting his eyes, he read the label aloud, "Hair restorer with permanent wave".

As a Boy Scout, we would camp a lot and go on hikes.

One night, we had to do a night hike, alone, for a merit badge. I had left the campsite about an hour earlier and a terrible storm rolled in. The sky opened up and the ground was quickly saturated. I tried to continue my hike for another few minutes, but it got cold and I was chilled and soaked to the bone, so I decided to try to head back to camp.

Lightning was starting to crackle above me, so I thought I should try to take a shortcut to make my hike back quicker. I pulled out my compass and found my direction, but the rain made it impossible to see more than five feet in front of me.

I was looking down at my compass, not paying any attention to where I was going, and suddenly felt weightless. The feeling didn't last long as I thumped down on slippery earth a second later.

I had fallen onto a ledge on the side of a rather steep cliff, the bottom of which was at least fifty feet down.

I sat there, contemplating on how to get back up this cliff as water rolled over the edge ten feet above me. There was nothing to grab onto to pull myself up. I was stuck there.

After a few minutes, I noticed the little ledge I was standing on was slowly getting smaller. The water was coming down so hard it was eroding the tiny bit of safety I had.

I dug through my pockets, thinking maybe I had something, anything, to help me out of my precarious situation. All I had was my compass, a cough drop, and a match. I was screwed.

So, I sat there, watching the edge of the ledge I was on get closer and closer to my feet, when suddenly I felt something pushing on my back.

I turned slightly and saw a wooden box sticking out of the cliff behind me. It was working its way out of the side, the rain surely helping it along. I tried to move away from it, but the ledge wasn't very wide and the box kept coming out, pushing me farther to the weak and failing edge.

As more of the box came out, to my horror, I realized it was a coffin! I had no idea how old it was, but it looked rather rotten. All I could think of was being pushed off this ledge, and the rotten coffin breaking and dropping a skeleton onto my broken and battered body at the bottom.

The coffin crept closer, my foot began to slip. I grabbed onto a root that was sticking out of the cliffside and dug in my pocket once more.

I hurriedly tore the wrapper off the cough drop and stuck it in my mouth. It stopped the coffin.

This joke has been told to me

Courtney Love once asked Jon Bon Jovi to name her new band. Bon Jovi jokingly suggested 'Hole'.

Love though this was great - provocative and rude - so she went with it. Her ex, Corey Hart, of 'Sunglasses At Night' fame, did not approve. He sought to confront Bon Jovi on the night of Hole's first gig and, a little drunk, tried to climb the fence of Bon Jovi's LA estate.

Bon Jovi, thinking Hart an intruder, winged him with a gun belonging to Bono and The Edge's tour manager, who was dining there that night. The ensuing fracas was in all the papers, overshadowing Hole's debut, and angering Kurt Cobain, who was interested in Hole's lead singer.

Cobain sent Jon Bon Jovi a note, demanding he apologise, and Bon Jovi replied ...

"Shot Corey Hart, and U2 blamed. You give Love a band name."

There are three classes of cheerios, the lower class (plain ol' cheerios), the middle class cheerios (frosted), and the elite class (honey nut). One soggy morning in Seattle, a plain cheerio awoke in his single room apartment. He looked out at the still sleepy city, blanketed in a mist of rain. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes on, this would be the day. He stood propped against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. "God I have got to stop this habit." He thought to himself. Glancing back and forth at the bustle of cheerios, he saw her. She looked about 25, devastatingly gorgeous, and he could smell the honey from where he stood. "Excuse me ma'am," his voice quivered, "I - I think you might be the most beautiful cheerio I have ever seen." She smiled and her otherwise golden brown face grew red. " This is a long shot, but will you marry me?' She was obviously caught off guard by this, but her red lips formed the word, "Yes." They raced through the morning mist of the city, and arrived at her fathers house. The cheerio bent down in front of her father. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing in marrying your daughter" "No! You are a regular cheerio and my daughter needs a high quality honey nut" he snapped. "But sir." "No means no damnit!" "Sir this is very unrea-" "You come back a honey nut and you'll have my blessing, my daughter is not about to marry a low life like you." The cheerio sprinted home, tears streaming down his face. He fumbled against the lock and sprawled out on his bed. When he awoke it was early, his sheets had a dark silhouette from his wet jacket. He sat up and lit a cigarette. "Damn." he sighed to himself. Walking in front of his mirror, he noticed something different. His body was frosted! He had become a frosted cheerio! He darted out the door without shoes, reaching the honey nut household in no time at all. He banged on the door, and the beauty's father answered. "Sir I am a changed cheerio! I'm frosted!" he exclaimed. Her father had a stern look on his face. "You think you are any better? The dirt on my boots are worth more than you." he hissed. The old honey nut slammed the door on the young frosted. He heard the deadbolt click. The newly frosted cheerio didn't take the same way home. He stood on the edge of a bridge, feeling the cool autumn wind on his sugar coated skin. Was he really going to go through with this? Was it worth it? No he was a frosted cheerio now. He couldn't get the girl, but he was a changed cheerio. He

Our psych teacher is known to be a jokester and today he continued that trend.

"So one night I was driving down a road in the country. All of a sudden, I heard a bam. I had hit something with my car. It turned out to be a pig. I didn't know what to do, so I just rolled it to the edge of the road. The next day at home, the farmer gave me a call saying he knew it was me who had killed his pig. I thought to myself, 'How could he know?' That's when it dawned on me. The pig had squealed."

My father told me this when I was young. He grew up on a farm back in the 40's and 50's and for the longest time they had an outhouse that was their primary bathroom. One night he was sitting in there taking a crap when he hears a voice coming from below him. It was saying very quietly "If the log rolls over, we will die". He is sitting their puzzled but he keeps hearing it over and over again "If The Log Rolls Over We Will Die"...

Now he starts to freak out so he wipes himself and runs inside and grabs the flashlight off the counter and comes back out to check it out. Only now, it is louder and more frantic If The Log Rolls Over We Will Die.

He crept up to the toilet hole, turned on the flashlight and slowly peered over the edge of the toilet and what he saw scared the hell out of him...

It was a bunch of ants sitting on a turd and chanting If The Log Rolls Over We Will Die