Resurrected from the AFP archives …

A farmer gets in his pickup, drives to a neighboring farm and knocks on the farmhouse door. A young boy about twelve answers.

“Is your pa home?” the farmer asks.

“No, sir, he ain’t,” the boy replies. “He went into town.”

“Well,” asks the farmer, “is your ma home?”

“No sir, she ain’t here neither. She went into town with Pa.”

“Well then, how about your brother, Harold? Is he home?”

“No sir, he went with Ma and Pa.”

The farmer stands there, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other and mumbling under his breath.

“Is there anything I can get for ya?” the boy asks politely. “I know where all Pa’s tools are if you want to borrow one, or maybe I could give Pa a message for ya?”

“Well,” replies the farmer with noticeable discomfort, “I really wanted to talk to your pa. It’s about your brother, Harold, getting my daughter, Pearly Mae, pregnant.”

The boy considers for a moment, then says, “You’ll have to talk to Pa about that. I know he charges $50 for the bull and $25 for the hog, but I don’t know how much he gets for Harold…”