An old farmer in Georgia had owned his farm for several years. He had a *huge* pond in the back, fixed up real nice; picnic tables, volleyball net, a horseshoe pitch -- like I said, real nice. And he'd properly shaped and graded the pond for swimming when he built it. One evening, the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, as he hadn't been there for a while, and look it over.
As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee.
As he came still closer, he saw the noise originated from a bunch of young ladies skinny-dipping in his pond. He coughed to make the ladies aware of his presence and they immediately swam to the deep end of the pond. One of them shouted to him, "We're not coming out until you leave!"
The old man replied, "Calm down, now, hon -- I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim or make you get out of the pond nekkid--
"--I'm just here to feed the alligator..."
V-29 swears he *didn't* make that up.
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So far, the Kill Bill Match the TINS! to the Radio Call Contest has produced some enlightening results: Brab and NinjaFluff (with Pogue flying CAS) want to see me crisped, the starch-wing contingent wants me to go trolling for flak, Sis wants to see me ventilated, ry's opting for a Blue-on-Blue and Two Who Shall Remain Nameless want me to go up for a rematch with the heat-seeker. At least Cassie hasn't shown up to fling the trivet. Or engage in rampant foot-tapping, followed by a faire la moue et la flounce.
However, if the trend holds, *most* of you will be able to -- ahem -- brag about your prescience...
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