I have no faith in those so called DNA tests, which allegedly, from a simple blood sample, can tell you where you are from, so i did a test on my pet frog.
I discovered the frog was 70% British, 20% French, 7% Italian, 2% Dutch and a tad Pole.
His parents look at the truck and ask, “Where did you get that truck?!”
“I bought it today,” he says.
“With what money?” says his mother.
They knew what a new F150 cost.
“Well,” he says, “this one cost me just fifteen dollars.”
The father looks at him like he’s crazy.
“Who would sell a truck like that for fifteen dollars?” he says.
“It was the lady up the street,” says the boy. “I don’t know her name – they just moved in. She saw me ride past on my bike and asked me if I wanted to buy her F150 for fifteen dollars.
“Oh my Goodness!” says the mother. “Maybe she’s mentally ill or has Alzheimer’s or something. John, you better go see what’s going on.”
So the boy’s father walks up the street to the house where the lady lives and finds her out in the yard calmly planting petunias.
He introduces himself as the father of the boy to whom she had sold a new Ford F150 truck for fifteen dollars and asks to know why she did it.
“Well,” she says, “two days ago my husband left on a business trip. Yesterday I got a phone call from his boss and found out that he really ran off to Hawaii with his secretary and doesn’t intend to come back.”
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,” the father says. “But what does that have to do with my son and your truck?”
“Well, this morning he called and told me he was stranded because he got robbed of his wallet with all his credit cards and cash. He told me to sell his new F150 and send him the money. So I did.”
Unfortunately, the locals always had a habit of picking on strangers, which he was. When he finished his drink, he found his horse had been stolen.
He went back into the bar, handily flipped his gun into the air, caught it above his head without even looking and fired a shot into the ceiling.
“Which one of you sidewinders stole my horse?!” he yelled with surprising forcefulness.
No one answered.
“Alright, I’m gonna have another beer, and if my horse ain’t back outside by the time I finish, I’m gonna do what I dun in Texas! And I don’t like to have to do what I dun in Texas!”
Some of the locals shifted restlessly.
The man, true to his word, had another beer, walked outside, and his horse has been returned to the post.
He saddled up and started to ride out of town.
The bartender wandered out of the bar and asked, “Say partner, before you go… what happened in Texas?”
The cowboy turned back and said, “I had to walk home.”