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To which the farmer replied: "Thank God, I thought I had gone deaf!" Juan was driving down a country lane in his pickup when suddenly a chicken darted into the road in front of him. He slammed on his brakes, but realized that the chicken was speeding off down the road at about 30 miles an hour. Intrigued, he tried to follow the bird with his truck, but he couldn't catch up to the accelerating chicken. Seeing it turn into a small farm, Juan followed it. To his astonishment, he realized that the chicken had three legs. Looking around the small farm, he noticed that ALL of the chickens had three legs. The farmer came out of his house, and Juan said, "Three-legged chickens? That's astonishing!" The farmer replied, "Yep. I bred 'em that way because I love drumsticks." Juan was curious. "How does a three-legged chicken taste?" The farmer smiled. "Dunno. Haven't been able to catch one yet." A carload of hunters, looking for a place to hunt, pulled into a farmers yard. The driver went up to the farmhouse to ask permission to hunt. The old farmer said, "Sure you can hunt, but would you do me a favor? That old mule standing over there is 20 years old and sick with cancer, but I don't have the heart to kill her. Would you do it for me?" The hunter said, "Sure," and headed for the car. While walking back, however, he decided to pull a trick on his hunting buddies. He got into the car and when they asked if the farmer had said OK, he said "No, we can't hunt here, but I'm going to teach that old cuss a lesson." With that, he rolled down his window, stuck his gun out and blasted the mule. As he exclaimed, "There, that will teach him!" a second shot rang out from the passenger side. And, one of his hunting buddies shouted, "I got the cow!" Seems a guy was driving for hours thu desolate country when he passed a farmhouse, and before he could react, a cat ran out in front of him and*splat*... he flattened the cat. Out of kindness and consideration, he stopped, turned around and drove back to the farmhouse to notify the occupants. When the housewife came to the door, said he, "Pardon memadame, but I just ran over a cat in front of your house, and assumed that it must belong to you. I know this might be hard to hear, but Iwanted to let you know instead of just driving off...." "Not so fast", says she. "How do you know it was our cat? Could youdescribe him? What does he look like?" The man promptly flopped down on the ground, and said "He looks like thts"as he gave his best shot at a dead cat impression. "Oh no, you *horrible* man", she replied. "I meant, what did he look like*before* you hit him?" At that, the man got up, covered his eyes with both hands and screamed"Agggghhhhhhhhhh !!!!!!" Letter from a Farm Kid: (Now at Camp Pendleton, San Diego, Marine Corps Recruit Training) Dear Ma and Pa: I am well. Hope you are too. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer that the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled. I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay... practically nothing. Men got to shave but it's not so bad... there's warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie, and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you 'til noon when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much. We go on "route marches," which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it's not my place to tell him different. A "route march" is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks. The country is nice but awful flat. The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none. This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move, and it ain't shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes. Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I'm only 5'6" and 130 pounds and he's 6'8" and near 300 pounds dry. Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join up before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding on in. Your loving daughter, Alice |