Pelting Puns

I was like, "Fur real?"

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 collegue of mine (a dad, recently turned 50) pulled this one off during a break at work when we were in the middle of a very heated debate about the Sami people (who some people get really pissed off at since their reindeers are everywhere and is really dangerous to car drivers during winters):

-I just heard what they actually use the reindeer pelts for.

-What's that?

-They keep their reindeers in them.

I don't know if it's just funny for us people here in the north of Sweden, but we all laughed for minutes.

Baa-Dumm-Tsssss

It was the best dam documentary I’ve seen in a while.

So my sister is writing a research paper for her PhD and it involves titanium dioxides. This is an actual email my Dad sent the family email chain while we were discussing the paper (all names have been changed for privacy):

“"Aunt Jane! Can you use the term titanium dioxides in a sentence so we can better understand its meaning?" asked her curious niece at the Thanksgiving family meal.

"Sure" said Dr Doe, "Mr and Mrs Tanium ran a tannery for years. Their son Ty used to shoot water buffaloes for sport, but his parents convinced him that he should at least save the pelts. So now his parents and Ty Tanium dye ox hides!"

Beat that one!

Dad”

The dad splits up from the boys in the morning, leaving them the task of getting food for the day.

The boys chance upon a patch full of peas - they have enough for all three meals and to pelt each other with.

Reuniting at the end of the day, the dad asks how it went.

“We played with each other’s peas!” The little one chimes in.

Just a little displeased, dad asks him sternly to clarify.

“We gathered peas, he meant.” Added the middle boy.

“Okay, and what did you have for breakfast?”

“Pea soup.”

“Lunch?”

“Pea soup.”

The boys started sniggering.

“What’s so funny? And what about dinner?”

“Nothing dad. We had pea soup too.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem like much. What did you do all evening?”

Bursting out laughing, they all said:

“Pee soup.”

Me: That damn salt truck didn't stop spraying salt at the red light. It pelted my car with that crap.

Sis: So your car was...as-SALT-ted!?!

Not gonna hear the end of that for awhile.