the Farm

The new rooster arrived at the barnyard, unsure what to expect, but confident. He found that the chickencoop had a large flock of hens needing constant servicing, and only one old rooster to compete with. He wasn't worried.

"So you think you've got what it takes to take over from me?" the elderly bird asked. "I don't think you do."

"No problem, old one," hinting at his brazenness. "Consider yourself retired."

"Well, if you're so sure," the reigning king of the roost said, "you wouldn't be scared off by a little contest to prove it, would you?"

"Not at all," the younger bird replied. "What kind of contest?"

"A simple race, one lap around the coop, winner take all," was the proposal.

The virile young bird, already getting very approving glances from the hens in the yard, was a bit taller, slimmer, sleeker, more muscular, handsome, and brimming with confidence. "You're on," he agreed.

The two roosters casually lined up at an agreed start/finish point at the front door of the coop. An old hen clucked "Go!" and they were off, heads down, their claws scratching up a cloud of dust behind them. It was close going into the first turn, but the younger bird edged the older one around it. It wasn't as close around the second.

Heading down the backstretch, the younger rooster was stretching his lead when the old bird quickly ducked under the raised building, shortcutting the third corner, and re-entering just ahead of the younger one as they rounded the fourth and final turn.

Nevertheless, the younger rooster poured on the speed, and was close to passing his rival, when suddenly, the sound of a shotgun blast echoed off the buildings, and the new rooster was blown off his feet in a cloud of feathers, very much dead.

The farmer lowered his smoking gun and muttered to himself, "Dang it all. That's the third new rooster I've bought this month, and every damn one's been queer!"

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Two cows standing next to each other in a field, Daisy says to Dolly "I

was artificially inseminated this morning." "I don't believe you," said

Dolly.

"It's true, no bull!"

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Three bulls heard via the grapevine that the rancher was going to bring yet another bull onto the ranch, and the prospect raised a discussion among them.

First Bull: "Boys, we all know I've been here 5 years. Once we settled our differences, we agreed on which 100 of the cows
would be mine. Now, I don't know where this newcomer is going to get HIS cows, but I aint' givin' him any of mine."

Second Bull: "That pretty much says it for me, too. I've been here 3 years and have earned my right to the 50 cows we've agreed are mine. I'll fight 'im till I run him off or kill 'im, but I'M KEEPIN' ALL MY COWS."

Third Bull: "I've only been here a year, and so far you guys have only let me have 10 cows to "take care of". I may not be as big as
you fellows (yet) but I am young and virile, so I simply MUST keep all MY cows."

They had just finished their big talk when an eighteen-wheeler pulls up in the middle of the pasture with only ONE ANIMAL IN IT: the biggest Son-of-Another-Bull these guys had ever seen! At 4700 pounds, each step he took toward the ground strained the steel ramp to the breaking point.

First Bull: "Ahem...You know, it's actually been some time since I really felt I was doing all my cows justice, anyway. I think I can spare a few for our new friend."

Second Bull: "I'll have plenty of cows to take care of if I just stay on the opposite end of the pasture from HIM. I'm certainly not looking for an argument."

They look over at their young friend, the 3rd bull, and find him pawing the dirt, shaking his horns, and snorting.

First Bull: "Son, let me give you some advice real quick. Let him have some of your cows and live to tell about it."

Third Bull: "Shit, he can have ALL my cows. I'm just making sure he knows I'm a bull!"