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Strawberry Fields

Bernstein, retired, is resting peacefully on the porch of his small hotel on the outskirts of Miami, when he sees a cloud of dust up the road. He walks out to see who could be approaching. It is a southern farmer with a wagon.

"Good afternoon," says Bernstein.

"Afternoon," says the farmer.

"Where you headed?" asks Bernstein.

"My farm."

"What do you have in the wagon?"

"Manure."

"Manure eh? What do you do with it?"

"I spread it over my strawberry fields."

"Well," says Bernstein, "you should really come over here for lunch one day. Mrs. Bernstein serves sour cream with our strawberries."

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