 Steve, the full-time professional cowboy of the outfit, looked over
at Dud, who was part-time at best. "Old Snort scrape you off under a
limb, Dud?""How could you tell?"
"It must be that bark print across the front of your shirt," said
Doc.
"I deal with horses every day," Steve said, "and I can sympathize
with you, but you're wrong. The dumbest animal in the world is a
turkey."
"Sheep," said Doc.
"My wife's cat," said Herb. We all looked at him.
"Well, he is," Herb said.
"Scientifically speaking, though," said Steve, "the intelligence
quotient of the turkey is just slightly above that of the earthworm.
They only reason they're smart enough to mate with each other is
that no one else wants the job."
[to top of second
column]
 |
Doc, who has more degrees than a thermometer, said, "Nope. It's
sheep. Why, they're so dumb ..."
"Seven Years has 'em beat," said Herb, decisively.
"Seven Years?"
"My wife's cat. Seven Years. Ever wonder how he got named?"
No one encouraged him.
"He attacked a cat in a mirror and broke it," Herb said.
"The cat?"
"The mirror."
"Well," Steve said, "that's pretty dumb."
Herb sipped his coffee. "Only thing dumber'n Seven Years is a
flat, brown rock."
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
Your friends at
Cabela's remind you to take a
kid fishing with you this spring. |
