Friday, August 05, 2005

 

my boss is a jewish carpenter

As Farmer John looked out, he squinted in the blazing sunlight and saw a silhouette of a figure approaching. He got his shotgun in the ready position and yelled out "Who is that and what are you doing on ma propurty?! Are you what skeered ma boy?!"

There was no response from the figure, and Farmer John yelled out again threatening to shoot. As the figure got closer and then understood the threat, its arms went up and pleas of "Don't Shoot!" came from its direction. A young man in black pants, white shirt, and a black tie appeared out of the backlit cornfield. "Sir, might I have a minute with you to speak about the Church of Jesus Christ and the Latter Day Saints?"

Farmer John cocked his shotgun and politely said, "HELL TO THE NO!"

Thursday, August 04, 2005

 

Homecoming

Jeremy ran towards his father, terror on his red face.
Buddy ran up onto the porch and inside the house.
Farmer John grabbed a hold of his son as the boy stopped violently in his father's large, calloused grasp.
"Where in the WORLD have you been, boy?" the farmer asked his son, getting on one knee.
"Your ma and I have been worried sick! Did you fall asleep out in the barn last night? Did you go down to the pond moonlight fishin' again and doze off?"
But the farmer knew something far worse had happened to his son, as the boy burrowed his face in his father's overalls and clung onto him for dear life.
Farmer John hoisted his child up and carried him into the house for his wife to take care of.
She ran to them, grasping Jeremy from his father, and carried the boy into his room.
Farmer John reached for his shotgun behind the front door and squinted into the morning sun and the trampled path of corn his son had made, coming home to him.
Thank God he came home to him.
"What in the HELL happened, boy?" John breathed out quietly to Buddy, who slowly joined his owner on the porch, ears up and nose pointed towards the cornfields.
"What in the hell is out there?" the farmer exhaled, as he gripped his rifle tight and slowly took a step down the front stairs of the house, never taking his eyes off the corn.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?Free Web Counter
Free Website Counter