A weathered farmer, boots caked in January mud, shuffled into the local Sears store. He approached the counter, his eyes fixed on the clerk, and declared, “Son, I reckon I’m here for one of them newfangled auto-matic milkin’ machines.”
The clerk, a young man more accustomed to selling appliances than farm equipment, raised an eyebrow but maintained a professional demeanor. “Certainly, sir. Automatic milking machines are quite efficient. Just out of curiosity, how many cows are you planning to milk with this machine?”
The farmer shifted his weight and drawled, “Well now, I got me one milk cow. Yep, just the solitary one.”
The clerk couldn’t help but express his surprise. “Sir, if you only have one cow, an automatic milking machine seems like a rather significant investment. Are you sure it’s necessary for just one animal?”
The farmer leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eye, and began to recount the tale that had driven him to Sears. “Well, young fella, let me paint you a picture of last night’s escapade. It was colder than a well digger’s… you know, out there in the barn. I trudged out to milk Bessie, my cow, and the frost was bitin’. Got myself set up, bucket in place, and reached for the teats. Wham! That Bessie, she’s got a kick like a mule. Left hoof connected, and sent me sprawling into the hay.”
He chuckled, continuing, “Now, I ain’t one to give up easy. Grabbed some rope, tied her left leg good and tight to a post. ‘Thought I’d outsmarted her, see? Went back to milkin’. Wham again! Right leg this time! Knocked me flatter than a pancake. So, another piece of rope, right leg secured to another post. Cow’s legs were tied tighter than a drum.”
“But,” the farmer sighed dramatically, “them ropes, they were all tangled around my boots, gettin’ in the way somethin’ awful. Had to get behind her to milk from the rear. Figured I was finally in the clear. Reached for the teats again… and whap! That tail of hers, caked in frozen mud, smacked me right across the face! Stung like a hornet, it did!”
He paused for effect, then delivered the punchline with a grin. “So, I grabbed yet another rope, tied it to her tail, slung it over a beam in the barn. Figured that would solve that pesky tail problem. Well, son, when I hoisted that tail up, two things happened faster than a rooster in a henhouse. First, the straps on my bib overalls gave way, and my britches dropped ’round my ankles, exposing more of me to that cold barn air than I intended. And second, wouldn’t you know it, my wife chose that exact moment to wander into the barn to see if I needed a hand with the milkin’. And that, young man, is the gospel truth of why I need one of them auto-matic milkin’ machines. For my dignity, if nothin’ else!”
The clerk, now chuckling heartily, understood perfectly. “I believe I can help you with that milking machine, sir. And perhaps,” he added with a wink, “some new overall straps?”
