The Summer Book Puns

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

The King is in love with the Spanish Armada, in fact you could say he warships it.

I got into a fight with a group of jesters, I escaped by going for the juggler.

I recently read "Gulliver's Travels" it was a Swift read.

Have you read the book about traveling through hell? It's a Dante-ing read.

Q: How many animals can you fight into the Lord High Sheriff's tights? A: Ten piggies, two calves, a rooster and an ass.

Vikings raided the royal cheese supply, they left nothing behind but de Brie.

I met a wizard, I told him he looked like a mana action.

The unskilled mason forget to put a water supply in the new castle. He did not keep well.

The angry archer was so surly he had everyone convinced he was a cross bowman.

The failed stone cutter also lost his job as a bounty hunter. He could never find his quarry.

The nun kept spilling sacramental wine on herself. She made a bad habit of it.

The pope enjoys chocolate on his boat. He like sailing indulgences.

The pope loves summer, they say he is infallible.

Two fae fell in love. They keep fauning over each other.

The knight suffered from boils, he had to get them lanced.

Why did the wood nymph use some much lotion? Because she had dryad skin.

My dad said this last summer. We were in Mexico, and there was huge flocks of birds swarming above us that day. My stepmom was out on our little porch, reading fifty shades of grey. Suddenly she storms in all huffy and goes up to my dad who was in the kitchen.

Dad: What's up with you?

Stepmom: A fucking bird SHAT on my book! Look! (Sure enough, there was.)

My dad, without missing a beat: Well why are you complaining? Now you got an extra shade of grey!

When I was in high school, I babysat 2 boys (who at the time of this story, were aged 7 and 10) for some extra cash. One day I was eating dinner with the family when the younger brother said that he couldn't wait to be in the fourth grade like his older brother.

"It's not that great," said the older one. "Once you're in the fourth grade, you have to read a bunch of books for a summer reading log and write a report on one." (In my county, there are mandatory summer assignments, the most common ones are English assignments.)

Their dad said, "Summer projects are good! They help stimulate your brain over the summer! If you don't brush up on your education for those three months, you could lose all of your smartness and never get it back!"

Older brother: "Yeah right. And how did you find that out?"

Me: "Well, they do say that firsthand experience is the best way to learn."