A southern farmer got in his pickup and drove several miles to a neighboring farm and knocked on the farmhouse door. A young boy, about 12, opened the door. “Is yer pa home?” he asked.
“No sir, he sure ain’t,” the boy replied. “He went to town.”
“Well,” said the farmer. “Is yer ma home?”
“No, she ain’t here either. She went to town with pa.” “Well, then, how about yer brother, Joe, is he here?” “No sir, he went with pa and ma.”
The farmer stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other, and mumbling to himself.
“Is there anything I kin do fer ya’?” inquired the young boy politely. “I know where all the tools are, if you want to berry one; Or maybe I could take a message fer pa.”
Well,” said the farmer uncomfortably, “I really wanted to talk to yer pa. It’s about your brother Joe getting my daughter, Pearly Mae, pregnant.”
The boy considered for a moment. “You would have to talk to pa about that,” he finally conceded. “I know that pa charges $500 for the bull and $250 for the boar hog, but I really don’t know how much he gets for Joe.”