Okay, sometimes to get a column written every week, I’ve got to stray off the beaten path and into fantasy. That’s what happened about this funny story.
***
A frustrated, yet ambitious, seed grower’s teenager son wuz roguing shatter cane out of a field of growing seed corn when he tripped and stubbed his toe over an object sticking out of the ground. Guess what it wuz? A genie lamp.
He couldn’t believe the old rusty lamp wuz really one with a genie, so he considered it wuz a good time and a good reason to take a break. So he walked back to the old Chevy half-ton parked in the shade for a cool drink.
To pass the time and test the lamp, the teenager rubbed the lamp. Imagine his surprise when out popped a female genie.
“Master, thanks for letting me outta that musty old lamp,” the genie told him.
“I’m so grateful I will grant you any wish you want, but one only. .”
The teenager ponders on this proposition for a few minutes and says, “I’d like to be a spectacular success at something no man has ever mastered before, or even tried to do.”
“Granted,” the female genie cried. “Poof! It’s done.”
The teenager looks around and, startled, realizes that he’s been turned into a farmwife.”
***
Rural America has been suffering through a lot of terrible and destructive spring weather lately. And, while there’s certainly nuthin’ funny about the devastation and destruction cause by bad weather, it still can spawn humor.
During a long, windy stretch of storms in Missouri, the going was pretty rough. One farm hired man, after four grueling days of cleaning up wind-blown debris, really didn’t want to come to work for a fifth day. However, he started out on foot anyway, but he got to work quite late.
The farm owner tried to be understanding, but there was work to do, so he asked for an explanation.
“Well, the wind was so strong that every time I took one step forward, the wind would push me two steps back,” replied the hired man.
“So, how’d you get here?” asked the curious farmer.
“I turned around and tried to walk home,” replied the hired man.
***
A miscreant in the Flint Hills had been arrested for a despicable rural crime. When he wuz hauled into the courthouse to atone for his crime, the judge looked down from the bench and explained, “You, sir, can let me try your case from the bench, or you can choose to be tried by a jury of your peers.”
“I don’t understand,” the accused said. “What do you mean by a jury of my peers?”
The judge explained. “Peers are men of your own kind — your equals.”
”Well,” the suspect earnestly replied, “I sure don’t wanna be tried by bunch of cattle rustlers!”
***
My column readers can be creative, too. I recently received an e-mail from a reader who claims his name is T. “Hunk” Deaply. He wrote:
“Milo, science can do a lot of new things these days. Now, I’ve heard that science can inject Viagra into companies or organizations. So, I have a good candidate for the Viagra treatment — my local co-op.
“I figure a dose of Viagra would help it because my co-op has been an impotent seller of my grain for years.
“But, then I got to thinking, maybe I’m considering this all wrong because my co-op has been pretty good at sticking it to farmers for a long time.”
***
The state senator from a rural High Plains state came home from a series of town hall meetings with his constituents and told his wife, “Honey, I bamboozled my way out of so many hard questions, and promised so many government benefits, that I’m sure I’m going to get re-elected!”
“Honestly?” his wife asked, surprised.
The state senator frowned and said, “Now, why’d you have to bring that up?”
***
Okay. Can’t conjure up any more stuff, so I’m gonna cut this week’s effort off right here with a few words of wisdom.
Here’s the definition of “puttering.” It’s the act of doing dozens of little chores that no one knows needs to be done, that no one wants to do, and no one notices have been done.”
Turns out, puttering is also a sign old age.
Have a good ‘un.
