The Town I Loved So Well 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

She asked the pastor of a local church if he knew of any houses with rooms to rent that were close to town, but out in the country. The pastor kindly drove her out to see a house with a room to rent. She loved the house and decided to rent the room. Then, the lady returned to her home in England to make her final preparations to move to Switzerland.

When she arrived back home, the thought occurred to her that she had not seen a “W.C.” in the room or even down the hall. (A W.C. is short for “water closet” and is what the English call a toilet.) So she immediately emailed the pastor to ask him where the “W.C.” is located.

The Swiss pastor had never heard of a “W.C.,” and so he Googled the abbreviation and found an article titled “Wayside Chapels.” Thinking that the English lady was asking about a country church to attend near her new home, the pastor responded as follows:

Ms. Smith,

I look forward to your move. Regarding your question about the location of the W.C., the closest W.C. is situated only two miles from the room you have rented, in the center of a beautiful grove of pine trees. The W.C. has a maximum occupancy of 229 people, but not that many people usually go on weekdays. I suggest you plan to go on Thursday evenings when there is a sing-along. The acoustics are remarkable and the happy sounds of so many people echo throughout the W.C.

Sunday mornings are extremely crowded. The locals tend to arrive early and many bring their lunches to make a day of it. Those who arrive just in time can usually be squeezed into the W.C. before things start, but not always. Best to go early if you can!

It may interest you to know that my own daughter was married in the W.C. and it was there that she met her husband. I remember how everyone crowded in to sit close to the bride and groom. There were two people to a seat ordinarily occupied by one, but our friends and family were happy to share.  I will admit that my wife and I felt particularly relieved when it was over. We were truly wiped out.

Because of my responsibilities in town, I can’t go as often as I used to. In fact, I haven’t been in well over a year. I can tell you I really miss regularly going to the W.C. Let’s plan on going together for your first visit. I can reserve us seats where you will be seen by all.

Sincerely,

Pastor Kurt Meier

There once was a man who had a job driving a passenger train between two large towns. It could be a very dull job to some, but as the old saying goes, one man's trash is another's gold; he wanted to be a railroad man since he was a boy.

He was a wiz behind the controls of the train, and commanded the 15 car vehicle effortlessly as if he had been born to do the job. He prided himself on the fact that he could bend the rules and speed through curves and grades that made other motormen shiver and back off.

One day however, he wasn't so lucky and came round a bend too fast and derailed his train. He backed off the throttle and braked as much as he could, managing to only have one fatality out of 500 passengers on his train.

Months later there was a trial and he was found guilty of manslaughter in the highest degree, a capital offence in that land, and sentenced to die by electric chair. Punishment came swift, unlike most places, and 3 days after sentencing the former railroader was asked for his last meal.

"I'll have a banana," "Just a single banana?" said the perplexed guard. "The warden will grant you a feast and all you want is that?"

"Just a single banana." he said.

After he downed the fruit, he was strapped into the electric chair an hour later.... The warden hit the switch, lights flickered, and the crackle of electricity could be heard for over a minute...

...but our train jockey instead rose from the chair looking more like he got a stiff massage, rather than be put to death! Well in that nation, the law of the land states that if a man somehow survives being put to death, they must be set free...

...And so it came to pass that our engineer was let go...

And for whatever reason, he got his job back!

So he was back railroading again doing the job that he loved. You'd think he'd have been more cautious with this second chance he'd been given, but you'd also be wrong. Speedy Gonzales with a train license decided to gun his locomotive to hard and send it off the tracks again!

Of course, this time he was tried for the same crime, but at a different time (his was a fair commonwealth and double indemnity was simply unheard of!) So fair was their nation, that the jury came up with the same judgement and punishment. So three days later, when asked for his last meal, the engineer simply said "I'll have 2 bananas..."

Not less than 60 minutes after consuming the last morsel was he strapped into the chair and the switch thrown... And....

NOTHING.

This might be a bit long? My family isn't the brightest of individuals.

Sister: My balls are caught in the door!

Me: LOL, WHAT?

Sister: The poof balls on my shoes.

**Grandpa**: I saw you took my junk out of your car and threw it into my car.

**Grandma**: *grins and nods*

**Grandpa**: You're so sweet.

**Grandma**: And I saw lotto tickets too.

**Grandpa**: I dunno where those came from.

**Grandma**: Uh-huh. Probably a damn $5 dollar ticket too.

**Grandpa**: No, $2.

**Me**: He doesn't know where they came from, but he knows how much they cost.

**Grandpa**: *starts adding more to my list of chores*

~

**Grandpa**: It's kinda hot in here.

**Grandma**: NO IT'S NOT, Take off your damn clothes if you're hot.

**Grandpa**: Is that all you ever want me to do, take my clothes off?!

**Me**: OH DEAR GOD, I'M RIGHT HERE.

~

**TV**: The line, "To be, or not to be. That is the question!" is from which Shakespeare play?

**Grandma**: Julius Caesar, right?

**Me**:  Wow.

~

**Me**: How can you NOT like that movie. It has WILL SMITH.

**Grandma**: *thinks* Is it that movie, and he has a partner?!

**Me**: YES. And he's in the west and there's that giant spider at the end!

**Grandma**: WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!

**ME**: I DID.

~

**Grandpa**: I need to get a tree saw.

**Grandma**: What's a tree saw...

**Me**: A TREE SAW. A saw, that saws trees. You can't simplify it anymore than that.

~

*while watching American Idol*

**Me**: Omg, that guy's nose is HUGE.

**Grandpa**: If he sniffs really hard, he could overdose on oxygen.

~

**Grandpa**: I'm looking for my camouflage underwear, but they're camouflaged so well, that I can't find them!

~

*Sister rambles on about hating cats and how they're scary*

**Me**: You're just a weenie, Tyla.

**Tyla**: Oh yeah?  Well at least Papa loves weenies!

*Me and Papa look at each other*

**Me**: I sure as hell hope Papa does NOT like weenies.

~

*As we drive home, the tornado siren goes off* 

**Kaylah**: Have you ever seen it?

**Me**: ...Seen what? 

**Kaylah**: The car with the siren.

**Me**: What in the hell are you talking about? 

**Kaylah**: Isn't the tornado siren on a car that drives around town? 

**Me**: ......

~

*While driving through Alton one morning* 

**Grandma**: Here, take a sip of this.

**Me**: Ew.  Coffee is nasty.

**Grandma**: No it isn't!  It wakes ya up, and puts hair on your chest!

~

*Grandma walks out of the bathroom and wipes her wet hands on my face* 

**Grandma*

I'd say, "Dad, I'm gonna go take a shower!" His response, "Why? Is one missing?"

My dad taught me early on that the phrase je t'adore in French translates to I love you. He also mentioned that je t'adore sounds (a little bit) like shut the door if you said it kinda quickly. So anytime someone tells my dad to "shut the door" he'd respond with, "I love you too!"

Not technically my dad, but still a dad. Every time my grandpa came to town when I was a kid after not seeing me for a little while, without fail, the first thing out of his mouth was, "Look at you, you gruesome child! You know, you grew some, child." I think the fact that he explained it every time was what really irked me.

Last time my dad knocked over his soda and it spilled all over his lap he immediately looked up at me grinning, "Well I guess drinks are on me tonight!"