He's in the woods, looking for sport fowl, and he's having no luck. All of a sudden, this glorious pheasant flies up out of the undergrowth, and flies high over the treeline. With careful aim, the lawyer pulls the trigger and **BOOM**, the pheasant drops like a stone, out of the edge of the woods, and the lawyer goes to find it.
He sees it lying in a field, in front of a farm house. Knowing the rules, he walks confidently over to the farmhouse to ask the land-owner's permission, before he removes it. The farmer opens the door to him, and the lawyer begins well:
"Sir, I'm a lawyer, taking some time off, and I happen to have shot a rather magnificent pheasant over your land. Now, I am a lawyer, and as such I know that I'm supposed to ask you - the landowner's - permission before I retrieve it. I was wondering if you'd be a good sport and let me have it?"
The farmer says nothing for a bit, and then replies:
"Well, it's a fine enough pheasant, and it is my land, but I'll tell you what. We'll play RoShamBo for it. Winner keeps it."
The lawyer is puzzled, and says "roshambo? I'm afraid we must not have covered that at any of the prestigious lawschools I attended while studying, or in my many years practicing as a highly accomplished lawyer. What are the rules?"
The farmer replies "well, we take it in turns to kick each other in the nuts, and whoever gives up first, loses."
The Lawyer doesn't really want to play, but he does really want his prize shot. He reluctantly agrees, and asks who goes first. The farmer says "I do, since it's my land."
The farmer tells the lawyer to widen his stance a little, and then backs up 10 steps or so. Then the farmer comes running, and his big right boot swings back, like a champion goalkicker. It smashes into the Lawyer's crotch at huge velocity, lifting the lawyer high off the ground, yelling in agony, and the lawyer collapses in a heap on the porch. After several minutes of groaning, aching, sobbing, and trying to muster the strength to stand back up again, the lawyer eventually struggles to his feet. "All right" he says, "It's my turn now".
The farmer turns away, shuts the door and calls out "Nah, you can keep the pheasant."
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