The phone rings at FBI headquarters.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this
FBI?"
"Yes. What do you want?"
"I'm calling to report my
neighbor Tom. He is hiding marijuana in his firewood."
"This will be
noted."
Next day, the FBI comes over to Tom's house. They search the
shed where the firewood is kept, break every piece of wood, find no
marijuana, swear at Tom and leave.
The phone rings at Tom's
house.
"Hey, Tom! Did the FBI come?"
"Yeah!"
"Did
they chop your firewood?"
"Yeah they did."
"Okay, now it's your
turn to call. I need my garden plowed."
[Mother Shiptons Prophecy] [Poetry]
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