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| Topic: Potato Garden | |
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Edited by
uk1971
on
Fri 03/14/08 08:41 PM
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Somewhere back in the hills of Idaho there was an old man who lived alone. Come springtime he wanted to spade himself a potato garden but knew the work was hard. Bubba, his only son, used to help him but was now sitting behind bars in another state. The old boy decided to e-mail the boy and describe his predicament...
Dear Bubba, "I'm not getting any younger and it kind of looks like I won't be able to plant my potato garden again this year. I'm down in my hip and my knees and can hardly plant a flower, let alone be digging up the ground. If you were here all of my troubles would be over. I know you would gladly dig that garden up for me." Love, Your Dear Ol' Dad A few days later he received an e-mail from his son... Dear Dad, "For heavens sake, Pop, don't be digging up that garden. That's where I hid all the bodies. Love, Bubba Next morning come sunrise there in the old man's back yard stood the local police department and the FBI. They handed out shovels to a dozen or so orange clad trustees and commanded "dig up the entire yard front rear and sides. The crew dug ferociously. Dirt was flying everywhere and bodies began to sweat. The dogs were turned loose to have a sniff. They continued to churn the soil until noon but couldn't find a single body anywhere. Frustrated, the police begrudgingly apologized to the old boy and left. Later on that day the elder received yet another e-mail from his son... Dear Dad, "You can go ahead and plant those potatoes now. It's the best I could do under the circumstances.   |
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lol, sounds like one of my sons
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