This slick city man figured he'd go upstate and do some pheasant hunting.
With no regard to private property or trespassing signs, he barreled his big SUV up a little side road where he discovered a great looking field with the grass about chest high, Autumn Olive trees scattered throughout. Perfect spot!
He hadn't walked 30 feet when a big pheasant popped out of the grass and took to flight. BLAM! His first shot killed the bird and he watched it fall to the ground.
When he got to the area the grouse fell, he had to cross a fence to retrieve his quarry. He climbed over the fence, and just as he was about to pick up the bird, he heard a loud voice behind him.
A man was headed toward him and said,
"HEY! Wait just a minute! Do you know you're on private property?"
The city slicker replied, "No, sure didn't. Don't care either."
Agitated by the city slickers curt reply, the property owner said, "Well, since you're on private property, MY private property, that deems the downed pheasant is mine! But, if you don't want to get into trouble for hunting on private property, I shall make you an offer so you can keep the bird and go about your way."
The city slicker was curious about the offer and surely didn't want to get into trouble, so he inquired to the owner the nature of the offer.
The owner replied, "Well, it's kind of a game where we kick each other between the legs as hard as possible. The one who doesn't scream, cry, whimper, or make any sound whatsoever will win the pheasant."
The city slicker was over six feet tall and well built. He looked at the property owner, an old man, no more than 135 pounds. He knew he could kick the poor old man into oblivion. He took the ol man up on the offer.
"Good" The owner said. "I'll go first."
The city slicker got in a comfortable stance, his feet apart, crouching slightly.
The old man came over and judged the distance by swinging his foot from crotch to the ground. He finally got it sized up and reared his boot back and WHACK! Bullseye! Boot met gonads with thundering force and accuracy!
The city slicker gritted his teeth and tears filled his eyes. He shuddered for a few seconds an finally let out a deep breath. He was in some serious pain!
After about a minute or so of panting and walking around, gut throbbing, the city slicker finally composed himself enough to go to the property owner so he can give his big revenge kick. He scowled at the owner and snarled "YOUR TURN OLD MAN!"
Walking away, the owner said, "Ah, that's all right. You keep the pheasant. I've done killed twelve this week."