Drag Bar Puns

Pig plays the drums, Horse sings, and Cow plays the guitar. They’re all exceptionally talented, and form a band, supplementing other spots from around the city. They play local dives, some free shows in the park, and they begin to get some traction. Pig suggests they record an album, and they send demos all over. One label is willing to give them a shot, and they open for a B List name on their tour. During the tour, they amass millions of fans, and by the time they record their first major studio album, they have a following so big that 3 of their songs top the charts. They soon find themselves headlining their own tour, as well as every major music festival.

The three friends are over the moon with their success. Never in their wildest dreams did they believe they’d find themselves rubbing shoulders with music greats. It doesn’t come without its downsides, though. Pig has turned to coke and pills to help him get through the long nights. Horse loves the party side of his new life, and his band mates often hide bottles from him when they’re not dragging him, drunk, to his bed. Cow is sad. Watching his friends fall apart, he misses being home and when things were more simple. Keeping his friends in line and covering for them is taking a toll on his own health.

After a year and a half on the road, the band is in the studio attempting to record their second album. Horse is fast asleep, drooling on the mixing board, hungover from the night before. Pig hasn’t even shown up. Cow has a breakdown, and shakes Horse awake. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” Horse waves him off, and falls back asleep. Cow packs up his guitar and buys a one-way ticket home.

A few days later, Pig is all over the news. He’s in jail for possession. Cow watches the news and shakes his head. He knew it was a sinking ship. Horse hears the news from their manager, who is also calling to tell him that he quit. He wakes up to the phone call, and texts Cow, pleading to have a conversation. Radio silence. Horse stumbles out of bed and heads for his favorite pub. He can’t believe that he’s down two friends, that the band has split up, and his life is in shambles. He sits at the bar. “I’ll have my usual,” he says. The bartender leans over to hand Horse a whiskey. “Hey buddy, why the long face?”

He sat at the bar and after he had had quite a few beers he decides its best he went home, he stood up and fell straight to floor, he tried a few times and he fell everytime, so he decided to drag himself home and fell asleep on the floor as soon as he got in the door

In the morning his wife sees him there on the floor and says did you forget your wheelchair again!

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 long day of work i came home and asked my wife what's for dinner. She didn't know either so i said, you know what? Lets go for a fancy dinner at the restaurant, we're gonna eat some snails.

She wasn't interested in going out and said, you know what why don't you go to the night shop and pick up some snails and some red wine. And so i did..

On my way back home from the night shop i come across some friends dragging me to the bar. I end up drinking beers until 5 in the morning and then finally decide to go home. Grabbing the keys in my pocket i manage to drop the snails i bought at the night shop.

Now, at my doorstep, i ring the bell. My wife opens up and asks me where i was for the last few hours. I look at the ground and say "hurry up you damn snails we're almost there".