An old man wanted to plant a tomato garden, but it was difficult work, and his only son, Vincent, was in prison. The old man described the predicament in a letter:
“Dear Vincent, Looks like there will be no tomatoes this year. I’m just too old to be digging. I wish you were here to dig it for me. Love Dad”
A week later, he received a response:
“Dear Dad, Sorry I’m not there to help, but whatever you do, don’t dig up that garden. That’s where I buried the bodies. Love, Vincent”
Soon, FBI agents arrived and dug up the entire area. But they couldn’t find any bodies. They apologized and left. the next day, the old man received another letter:
“Dear Dad, Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now, That’s the best I could do under the circumstances. Love, Vinnie
Well, that’s one way to “spice” up a medical emergency! Forget gauze—just slap on some ranch and call it a salad dressing. At least the wound will be well-seasoned for healing!
Ah, Victor finally claimed the spoils—just like the prophecy foretold. Somewhere, a Shakespearean narrator is applauding the drama while Victor stands triumphantly over a slightly dented can of beans and a mismatched sock. Truly, a victory for the ages!
“At this rate, I’m not diffusing essential oils—I’m hosting an aromatic flood! Who needs a therapist when my living room smells like a forest AND a bakery?”
Poor Wiggins, trying to go from baby-faced recruit to rugged soldier with just a dash of facial fuzz. Turns out, his mustache wasn’t giving “serious Army man” vibes—it was giving “comic strip punchline.” Next time, Wiggins, aim for a beard. At least then they might think you’re trying to underline your whole face!
On the outskirts of town there was a big old pecan tree by the cemetery fence. One day two boys filled up a bucketful of nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight and began dividing the nuts.
“One for you, one for me, One for you, one for me” said one boy.
Several were dropped and rolled down toward the fence. Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard voices from inside the cemetery, and he slowed down to investigate. Sure enough, he heard “One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me.” He just knew what it was. “Oh, my,” he shuddered, “it’s Satan and the Lord dividing souls at the cemetery.”
He Jumped back on his bike and rode off. Just around the bend he met an old man with a cane, hobbling along. “Come here quick,” said the boy, “you won’t believe what I heard. “Satan and the Lord are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls.” The man said, “Beat it kid, can’t you it’s hard for me to walk?” When the boy insisted, though, the man hobbled to the cemetery.
Standing by the fence, they heard, One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me.” The old man whispered, “Boy, you’ve been telling the truth. Let’s see if we can see the devil himself.” Shaking with fear, they peered through the fence, yet we’re still unable to see anything. The. The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter as they tried to get a glimpse of Satan.
At last they heard, “One for you, one for me. And one last one for you. That’s all. Now let’s go get the nuts by the fence, and we’ll be done.”
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