 Planting
Old Sean lived alone in Northern Ireland. He wanted to spade his potato garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, Mick, who used to help him, was in an English prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:
Dear Mick, I am feeling a mite down because it looks like I won't be able to plant me potato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you were here, all my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.
Love, Dad
A few days later he received a letter from his son:
Dear Father, For CHRIST'S SAKE, don't dig up the garden! That's where I buried all them feckin' BODIES!
Love, Mick
At 4 A.M. the next morning, a dozen agents from Scotland Yard and local police officers showed up and dug up the entire garden down to a depth of about six feet. That evening, not finding any bodies, they apologized to the old man and left.
The next day the old man received another letter from his son:
Dear Father, Go ahead and plant yer spuds now. It's the best I could do under the circumstances
Love, Mick
__________________ Life's a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!
MOTM, Jan 2005, Aug 2007 Golden Cookie Award, 2005. Aug 2006 Perv of the Month Perv. Outreach Award, 2007 | 
Humor
01-19-2005, 21:27
