A duck hunter was out one day having no luck. He hunted the whole morning and couldn't get a single bird. On the way home he approached a farm house and flying over the barnyard was a big flock of fat mallards. Seeing his last chance for success, he took aim at what looked like the biggest one and gave it both barrels. The duck fell from the sky and landed in the middle of the barnyard.
As he neared the barnyard and the dead duck, the hunter could see he'd gotten himself a beauty. But when he was a mere 20 paces from the duck, a farmer emerged from the barn, scooped up the duck and headed for his house.
"Hey!" said the hunter. "Come back here with my duck!"
"Your duck?" returned the farmer. "It was lying in my barnyard. It's MY duck."
"No! No! You don't understand! I shot it and it just happened to fall here. It's mine!" shouted the hunter.
"Okay, city fella. We'll settle this the country way," said the farmer.
"Country way? What's that?" said the hunter.
"We take turns kicking each as hard as we can," said the farmer. "Last man standing wins the duck. That is, unless you're yella."
"Of course I'm not," said the hunter. "Country way it is."
"Fine," said the farmer. "Since we're on my property, I'll go first."
Hunter: "Suits me."
With that, the farmer took a half step back, steadied himself, and kicked the hunter square in the crotch as hard as humanly possible. The hunter screamed like an animal for 15 minutes. He curled up in a ball, turned three shades of purple and nearly died. After a full half hour and with considerable difficulty, the hunter straighted up and gasped, "Now... it's... my... turn."
The farmer replied: "Nah, that's okay. You can keep the duck."
-- from that great joke factory in the sky
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