A farmer had three daughters, all young and very pretty. He guarded them with a shotgun. Friday night came and he heard a knock at the door. The farmer answered with his gun. A young man in

A farmer had three daughters, all young and very pretty. He guarded them fiercely with a shotgun.

Friday night came, and he heard a knock at the door. The farmer answered, shotgun in hand.

A young man in a cowboy hat stood there, grinning nervously.

"Good evening, sir," he said. "My name is Joe, I'm here for Flo. We're going to the show. Is she ready to go?"

The farmer narrowed his eyes but, seeing no obvious threat, nodded. "Be back by ten," he grunted.

Not long after, another knock came. The farmer opened the door to find a tall, lanky boy shifting on his feet.

"Howdy, sir," the boy said. "My name is Freddy, I'm here for Betty. We’re going for spaghetti. Hope she's ready!"

The farmer, surprised by the rhyming trend but finding nothing suspicious, sighed and waved him off. "Back by ten," he warned.

A third knock came. The farmer opened the door, his shotgun now resting against his shoulder.

Standing there was a young man with a confident grin.

"Evening, sir!" he said. "My name is Chuck—"

The farmer cocked his shotgun.

"Nice to meet you, Chuck. But you’re out of luck."

And with that, the door slammed shut.