Blending Tea Puns

they don't steep around

Yerba matey

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

He's been practicing for this role for months. He goes down to the opera house on the day of the audition, only to find he's come down with a sore throat and can't hit his notes anymore. In a panic, he asks one of the directors if they can postpone his audition.

"I'm sorry," says the director, "but we can't delay an audition for just one performer. That would set a bad precedent. Instead, I'll let you in on a little opera house secret." The director pours the man a cup of warm, smelly liquid. "Drink this. It's a special tea to help your throat. The recipe has been passed down for decades in this opera company, and I guarantee it will make you able to sing again."

The man wrinkles up his nose and takes a swig. "Euch! This is... awful! What's in this tea anyways?"

"Well, it's a secret herbal tea blend made with... well... fish broth." The director replies. "Tuna, specifically. We've found it helps soothe the throat better than any other fish we've tried."

Sure enough the man is able to sing again! He hits all his notes and gives an exemplary performance.

At the end of the auditions, he finds the director that gave him the tea. "So... what did you think? Did I get the part or not?" He asks.

"I'm sorry," said the director, "you performed well, but we've decided to give the part to someone else."

"That's OK," the man says, "I'm just really grateful for the Opera-Tuna-Tea."