For forty years, old Walter had told his friends about his lifelong dream of owning a bull farm.
“Twenty magnificent bulls,” he’d announce at every Friday gathering. “Farmers would queue up to hire them. Those handsome fellows would spend their days entertaining lady cows—and I’d collect the money!”
“You’ve certainly thought about their working conditions,” his friend Frank remarked.
“Of course,” Walter said. “Short shifts, plenty of rest, and no bull expected to perform immediately after lunch.”
Years passed. Walter retired, his hair disappeared, and his dream remained exactly where he’d left it: somewhere between his third beer and his fourth.
Finally, his friends decided to help.
“We’ve found you some affordable land,” Frank announced. “There’s a barn, good fencing, and room for your bulls!”
Walter went pale.
“Well… there’s the paperwork.”
“We’ll help.”
“And the money.”
“We’ll invest.”
“And my wife would never agree.”
At that moment, his wife walked over.
“Agree? I’ve been begging him to do it for twenty years!”
His friends stared at him.
“Walter, what’s actually stopping you?”
The old man sighed.
“Gentlemen, once I open the farm, you’ll expect me to talk about something else.”
His wife patted his shoulder.
“Besides, why buy twenty bulls? He’s been supplying this table with enough bull for forty years!”😂🤣
