Dam on old man's farm

As the old farmer approached the pond with his trusty bucket in hand, he couldn’t help but notice the uproarious sounds of laughter echoing through the air. Curiosity piqued, he quickened his pace, wondering what could possibly be causing such merriment at his humble watering hole.

Peering through the dense foliage, his eyes widened in disbelief at the sight before him. A bevy of young women, carefree and gleeful, frolicked in the shimmering waters of his pond, their laughter ringing like bells on the evening breeze.

But instead of reacting with shock or embarrassment, the wily old farmer simply scratched his head, a mischievous twinkle dancing in his eye. Without missing a beat, he hoisted his bucket high and made his presence known.

“Ah, ladies, I see you’re enjoying yourselves,” he called out, his voice a blend of amusement and bemusement. “But don’t worry, I haven’t come to spoil your fun or play the part of the ogling voyeur.”

The women, startled by his unexpected arrival, quickly scrambled to the deeper end of the pond, their faces flushed with embarrassment.

“We’re not leaving until you do!” one of them declared defiantly, her cheeks flushed crimson.

The old farmer simply chuckled, his weathered face creasing into a grin as he shook his head in mock disapproval.

“My dear ladies, you misunderstand,” he replied, his tone dripping with amusement. “I haven’t the slightest interest in interrupting your aquatic escapades or engaging in any scandalous behavior.”

With a theatrical flourish, he gestured towards the bucket clutched in his gnarled hands, the contents shimmering enticingly in the fading light.

“No, no, my purpose here is far more mundane,” he explained with a wink. “You see, I’ve come to feed the crocodile!”


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