An old farmer was hauling a truckload of manure down a country road when flashing lights appeared behind him. He pulled over, slow and calm, as a state trooper stepped out, clearly irritated by the swarm of flies buzzing around the truck.
“You were speeding,” the trooper said firmly. “I’m going to have to give you a ticket.”
“Yep,” the farmer replied casually, leaning on the truck as the officer waved his arms, trying to shoo the flies away from his face.
“These flies are terrible,” the trooper complained, swatting again and again.
“Yep,” the farmer nodded. “Those are circle flies.”
The trooper stopped writing and frowned. “Circle flies? What’s a circle fly?”
The farmer scratched his chin and said, “Well, circle flies are flies that fly around circles.”
The trooper squinted. “Why do they fly around in circles?”
The farmer smiled slightly and said, “Because they don’t bother landing on anything that smells bad.”
The trooper froze. Looked at the truck. Looked at the manure. Then slowly looked back at the farmer.
“You mean…” he started.
“Yep,” the farmer said. “That’s why they keep circling you.”
The ticket book snapped shut.
The trooper cleared his throat, handed the farmer back his license, and said, “Slow it down and have a nice day.”
The farmer climbed back into his truck, smiled to himself, and drove off — still hauling manure, but leaving the biggest pile standing on the side of the road.
