A slick city lawyer was cruising through the countryside

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A slick city lawyer was cruising through the countryside in his shiny BMW when he noticed a picturesque farm, complete with a tree heavy with ripe red apples. The fruit looked too good to resist.

Without a second thought, he pulled over, hopped the fence, and picked the biggest, shiniest apple he could find. He’d just taken a big, juicy bite when an old farmer rumbled up on a tractor, eyes squinting under a wide-brimmed hat.

“Afternoon,” the farmer said, voice calm but firm. “That there’s my tree, and those are my apples.”

The lawyer chuckled smugly. “Do you know who I am? I’m one of the top attorneys in the city. I could sue you six ways from Sunday for stopping me from enjoying one lousy apple.”

The farmer scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, son, we don’t go in much for suing around these parts. We follow the ‘Country Code.’”

“The Country Code?” the lawyer asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup,” said the farmer. “Real simple. We take turns kickin’ each other until someone gives up. That’s how we settle things out here.”

Thinking this would be an easy win, the lawyer rolled up his sleeves and nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

The farmer climbed down from his tractor, shuffled over in his thick, steel-toed boots, and with all the force of years behind him, swung a boot straight into the lawyer’s stomach.

The lawyer collapsed to the ground, wheezing, clutching his gut like he’d just been hit by a wrecking ball. Several long, painful moments later, he managed to stagger to his feet, face red and teeth clenched.

“Alright, old man,” he growled. “Now it’s my turn!”...Brilliant continue 👇👇👇


A slick city lawyer was cruising through the countryside

A slick city lawyer was cruising through the countryside in his shiny BMW when he noticed a picturesque farm, complete with a tree heavy with ripe red apples. The fruit looked too good to resist.


Without a second thought, he pulled over, hopped the fence, and picked the biggest, shiniest apple he could find. He’d just taken a big, juicy bite when an old farmer rumbled up on a tractor, eyes squinting under a wide-brimmed hat.


“Afternoon,” the farmer said, voice calm but firm. “That there’s my tree, and those are my apples.”


The lawyer chuckled smugly. “Do you know who I am? I’m one of the top attorneys in the city. I could sue you six ways from Sunday for stopping me from enjoying one lousy apple.”


The farmer scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, son, we don’t go in much for suing around these parts. We follow the ‘Country Code.’”


“The Country Code?” the lawyer asked, raising an eyebrow.


“Yup,” said the farmer. “Real simple. We take turns kickin’ each other until someone gives up. That’s how we settle things out here.”


Thinking this would be an easy win, the lawyer rolled up his sleeves and nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it.”


The farmer climbed down from his tractor, shuffled over in his thick, steel-toed boots, and with all the force of years behind him, swung a boot straight into the lawyer’s stomach.


The lawyer collapsed to the ground, wheezing, clutching his gut like he’d just been hit by a wrecking ball. Several long, painful moments later, he managed to stagger to his feet, face red and teeth clenched.


“Alright, old man,” he growled. “Now it’s my turn!”


The farmer tipped his hat with a big grin and said, “Nah, I give up. Enjoy the apple.”



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