The Story Begins Puns

One upon a dime...

Me: starts making baby noises. Her: what's that all about dad? Me: I think that's how I began Her: Big eyeroll while attempting to suppress giggles

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

My dad is really proud of this one. It's the only joke he's ever told that's been funny enough to make somebody laugh so hard that they spit out of their nose. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for this joke, so let me give you some context first:

He's been in a motorcycle accident (hit and run by an illegal immigrant), and had to have most of his vertebrae fused. They use titanium rods to hold your back from bending, so as you can imagine its kind of a major operation. His doctor prescribed a year (or longer if needed) of massage therapy, which he was thankful for. Twice a week he went in to a small clinic for a few hours at a time, and usually had the same masseuse. Let's call her Marge.

After four months of therapy they of course got to know each other very well. He was always faithful to my mother, but he was good friends with Marge. Their conversations range all the way from baseball to differentials, and everything stays platonic.

Here's where the story begins:

During a massage, they are having an energetic conversation, the time comes where he turns onto his back so that she can get to his knee ligaments (chainsawed his kneecap a few years prior, doc said may as well get there too). She goes at it like normal, and the conversation continues. Now here comes the part that made my dad wait to tell me this until recently: The "stimulation" in his knee for some reason, on that day out of all others, triggered a reflexive erection. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

The conversation goes quiet. Marge notices, but doesn't say a word. She remains professional. She continues working. My dad is more embarrassed than he's ever been. Several minutes of silence pass, and my dad cant take it anymore.

"Marge," he says, "I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room."

He raises his head to look down the table at her. He glances at it, then back to her. With a slight shake of his head he says:

"Wait nevermind, it's only his trunk"

So I'm just going to begin this story with myself coming home from school after a long day. My sister after doing everything around the house asked me if I could walk the dog. "Yeah sure! No problem." No problem. So I plug in my headphones and leave to take her for a walk. So I left the house and within 5 minutes my dog had sat down and refused to move until at least 10 people had passed for no real reason. She then proceeded to rear up on her hind legs and drop possibly the biggest crap pattie I had ever seen come out of this dog. Luckily for a change I have bags so no biggie, I pull one out, bend over and suddenly my music gets slightly quieter. Now, after a long day of studying and tests and whatnot I didn't really notice what had happened until I went to stand up and felt the slightest resistance in the cord, I look down only to see my earbud covered in dog crap. I had no choice but to un plug my headphones and abandon them like a wounded soldier in battle. Of corse I come home to see my dad and my sister sitting on the couch talking about their day only to see me walk in looking a bit angry. "Hey what's up with you?" My Sister asks, "Like why do you look so grumpy?" In my mood after this irritating mishap I can only grumble "I dropped my headphones in her turd" I reply, only for my dad to retort with "Hey, how about you stop listening to shitty music for a change!"

I hope you enjoyed the story of my struggle, he said this and all I could think of was posting this.

My dad told me this spooky Halloween story when I was young, I remembered it today and thought I would share it:

On one spooky Halloween night, a man decided to travel to the graveyard all by himself, armed with only a flashlight, and a thirst for adventure. He scoured the graveyard in search of ghosts, but after a long time searching, was disappointed that he couldn’t find one.

Just when he was beginning to get disheartened, he heard this awful sound from behind! The sound was deep, scratchy, and bellowing. It was the distinct sound of a coffin! The man was terrified. Naturally, he took off running! But No matter how far or fast he ran, he couldn’t escape the coffin. Everywhere he went, the coffin roared, deep, scratchy, and bellowing.

Just when he could run no more, he found himself trapped. The coffin closed in on him, getting louder and louder as it approached.

So what did he do?

He did what any man would do in this situation! He pulled out his Vick’s 44d cough syrup and stopped that awful coffin!

These two were told by my grandfather a thousand times:

A man goes to a pizzeria and orders a small pizza. The waiter asks him: "Do you want that cut in six slices or eight?". The man replies "Six. I couldn't eat eight."

Some Indians were bored sitting around a campfire. One Indian speaks up. "Chief, tell us a story." So the chief begins: "Some Indians were bored sitting around a campfire..." [repeat until murdered by joke victims]

I am currently in a intercultural communication class in college. Because its the beginning of the semester we always have to do some goofy activity and because the class is about culture everyone would tell something interesting about theirs. So this little Asian kid in class starts talking about customs growing up. He says how when he was little he remembers his father farting, and his dad asking why he is not clapping "in this culture you clap after your father farts." The whole time hes telling this I am thinking...no way...this dad is a savage. I kind of got a feeling he was starting to pick up on it, he started talking slow and thinking about it. Long story short: he clapped after his dad farted presumably for years, practicing their culture. What do you think?

I should preface this by saying this was on of the best dates I've ever been on, but the relationship also subsequently fell apart because of it.

Anyway, a few years ago, my girlfriend and I had been going out for a few months, and things were great. I met her through a mutual friend of mine at the hospital, weirdly enough. Our friend had gotten in a very bad accident and had to get a glass eye. He would always dab it with cotton to stop the bleeding at the beginning. Anyway, this is all relevant because my girlfriend (not girlfriend at the time) bonded over how disgusting our friends eye was. This got us to talking, and before you know it, we started going out. Things got pretty serious months and months down the line, and I was just laid off from my job. This meant that in general, we would go on cheaper dates. Nothing too drastic. Just like a movie and dinner instead of say the Opera and a fancy five star restaurant.

So, about a year and a half into the relationship, Joe, the mutual friend of ours, suggests a double date with us and his girlfriend. He knew the situation I was in and offered to pay for the whole thing. Great right? Well... no. I was actually planning on proposing to my girlfriend. Except Joe suggested the plans in front of my girlfriend too, so she accepted for both of us. I didn't want to propose to her on a double date, so I pulled her aside and told her to just skip the date and come over instead. Joe had bought us all tickets to a baseball game, and believe it or not, my girlfriend chose the baseball game instead of me. I stayed home alone as she went out with Joe and his girlfriend. Moral of the story is, if it hadn't been for Cotton Eyed Joe, I'd been married a long time ago.

We're sitting at dinner with some friends of the family, one of which is sitting in a wheelchair. My father looks up and begins to tell a story about his time growing up living with the heavy metal crowd.

"You know, the wheelchairs, the crutches, the walkers, all those heavy metal bitches."

Face-Palm

In class we were talking about different ceremonies about "becoming a man". The story goes that a tribe in Peru sends nine 15 year olds into the woods for three days and each has to collect a different item. After the time is up the tribe beats drums to call the boys back. When they return the shaman lays them in a circle around the fire heads pointing inwards and begins to heat up a spear. After The metal is red hot they begin to cut out and remove the boys kidneys. Of course my class asked "why?!" Mind you we are taking this story as notes. He looks at as dead in the face and says "The culture believes they will receive their adultneys" Tl;Dr cuts out children's kidneys because they think they will grow adultneys.