“Well” said Grandpa Joe after taking a deep puff on his cigar “it all started on the way home from our wedding, we hadn’t gone but a mile when the horse started giving us trouble I gave the horse a little whip and that’s when I heard your Grandma say in a low voice “that’s strike one.” A bit later the horse stopped again “that’s strike two” she said. The third time it stopped she grabbed my shotgun out of my holster and shot it in the head.
I was in shock! “What in the world was that all about?” I had protested at the time. “That’s strike one!” she said back to me. “And that is what I owe our marital success to.
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