Because they’re USAF.
... Or when they're feeling peckish do they just hit up the Allahu Snackbar?
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
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Once upon a time in the 80’s, the religious supreme ruler of a middle eastern country fled outside military forces seeking to strip him of his power using whatever means necessary. Fearing for his life, he was secretly smuggled into the US where he reluctantly shaved his beard and attempted to blend in.
He successfully went native and got an apartment, and soon realized he needed a job to pay for food and rent. He didn't want to do any sort of manual labor or serve others, as he craved comfortable control. He eventually became a toll booth operator, where he enjoyed sitting in his high chair, making people pay him so that he would grant them passage. Over time he grew bold and began to use his own judgment on what vehicles would pay him for his blessing to cross.
One day, two semi-tractor trailer beverage trucks were in his line, a Pepsi truck in front, and a Coke truck behind. The Pepsi truck pulled up and he said "Pepsi truck, you may pass for free." The Pepsi truck driver happily accepted, and over his CB radio told the Coke truck driver “This guy just let me through for free!”. When the Coke truck pulled up, hoping to also pass for free, the toll booth dictator said "Coke truck, you will pay me 100 of your American dollars."
The Coke truck driver was livid, and said "You let that Pepsi truck pass for free! You want me to pay 100 dollars?! That’s outrageous! I am going to report this! What is your name?!" Our toll booth operator proudly replied "Ayatollah Cokemainly."
