A Mallee farmer got into his ute, drove to a neighbouring farm and knocked at the farmhouse door. A young boy about 9 opened the door.
"Is your Dad home?" the farmer asked.
"No sir, he isn't," the boy replied. "He went into town."
"Well," said the farmer, "Is your Mum here?"
"No sir, she isn't here neither. She went into town with Dad."
"How about your brother, Howard? Is he here?"
"He went with Mum and Dad."
The farmer stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other and mumbling to himself.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" the boy asked politely. I know where all the tools are, if you want to borrow one. Or maybe I could take a message for Dad?"
Well," said the farmer uncomfortably, "I really wanted to talk to your Dad. It's about your elder brother Howard getting my daughter Kellie pregnant."
The boy considered for a moment. "Youd have to talk to Dad about that," he finally conceded. "If its any help to you, I know that Dad charges $150 for the bull and $75 for the boar, but I really don't know how much he gets for Howard."
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I must be a binge thinker. I do it a lot at times, then, not much at all.
