A crusty old farmer sent back East for a mail-order bride. The day she was set to arrive on the train, he rode his mule into town to pick her up. He put her up on the mule behind him and headed home.
On the way home, the mule stumbled, almost pitching the couple to the ground. "That's one," was all the old man said.
Farther down the road, the mule stumbled again. "That's two," he said.
Finally, the mule stumbled a third time. At that, the old man dismounted, lifted his bride off the mule, took out his pistol, and shot the mule dead.
Flabbergasted, the mail-order bride began to fuss and fume, demanding to know why the old man would do such a terrible thing, and how he expected them to get home on foot. He replied, "That's one."
On the way home, the mule stumbled, almost pitching the couple to the ground. "That's one," was all the old man said.
Farther down the road, the mule stumbled again. "That's two," he said.
Finally, the mule stumbled a third time. At that, the old man dismounted, lifted his bride off the mule, took out his pistol, and shot the mule dead.
Flabbergasted, the mail-order bride began to fuss and fume, demanding to know why the old man would do such a terrible thing, and how he expected them to get home on foot. He replied, "That's one."
