Sort Of Books Puns

The Mildewey Decimal System of course!

He goes online, trying to find some local up-and-coming bands. He finds a couple of okay options: some country, some rap, some metal… Nothing really sticks out as the next big thing to him though. He keeps at it for an entire weekend, struggling to find something he really likes.

He then stumbles upon this video of an old man, playing the acoustic guitar on his front porch: a beautiful rendition of ‘’Stairway to Heaven’’. Gentle, touching, absolutely gorgeous. The bar owner can’t help but cry. He immediately knows this is the man he wants for his bar, and gets in contact with him.

The musician, over the phone, thank him over and over again for the amazing opportunity. He explains that he’s a retired judge who was pressured to go into law by his parents, over 50 years ago. In his heart, he’s always dreamed of being a musician and to perform in front of a real audience. This is the first time he’ll ever get to do it.

The bar owner is even more touched by his story, and decides to immediately sign him on for 10 night shows. The old judge is over the moon, this is everything he’s ever dreamed of! The two men leave the call, happy and content.

That night, the bar owner hypes all of the regulars, telling them about this amazing new act that they’ll get to see tomorrow. He tells them to bring some friends, bring some family, no one has ever heard music like that before. The patrons are excited and promise to bring everyone they know.

The night arrives, and the old judge gets on stage. The bar is absolutely packed, people give him a standing ovation before he’s even started. Beaming with joy and trying his best not to cry, he calms the audience down. ‘’Thank you, thank you so much, everyone. Thank you to Jim, the owner, for believing in me. I know he loved my cover of ‘Stairway to Heaven’, but tonight, I figured I’d do some original compositions. I hope you like them.’’ He sits down and starts playing.

He slams down on his guitar and lets out a piercing screech. Everyone in the room freezes

For the next half hour, without ever stopping, he plays dozens of discordant chords while yelling incoherent words like ‘’pineapple sauce!’’ and ‘’love and hate are second cousins!’’. He screams then whispers, playing notes that don’t make any sort of reasonable sense.

The audience is stunned. No one dares to say a word. The sweet old man seems so sincere in his rendition, yet it’s just… horrendous.

The owner has a million thoughts racing all at once. How could this h

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

Context: I'm in a DnD campaign, for fifth edition.

So basically, one of my characters told a horrible pun to a planetar (Massive angel-like being) over Sending (A spell letting you communicate over long distances). "Whaddya call a celestial who likes to fish? An angel-er." and then he got asked to put his journal in the box that suddenly appeared behind hm, He complied, and when he got it back his name was gone from the first page of the book, and there was a golden box, that read "Tell me what I've pun, wizard" So I'm assuming he needs to answer in some sort of pun related to his name, Klaus Hallowmantle.

However, my brain is smoother than... I can't think of anything to compare it to all of a sudden. Oh well. Anyone who can help me with this?