At five o’clock a.m. on Tuesday, I decided to join Officer Cain in purchasing a dual-family farmhouse. We paid cash out of our pockets and split the cost fifty-fifty. After moving our wives and children in, we surveyed the land.
“It looks like we have a lot of good soil,” I said, holding my hand so that it shielded my eyes from the sun. “How far do you think our property extends?”
My longtime partner Officer Cain scanned the landscape from left to right and then up and down. “I’d say it’s about 500 acres, total,” he said. “That’s not so vast as to be overwhelming — in fact, it’s the perfect amount for our families to farm.”
“Do you know very much about agriculture?” I asked. “Because I myself am totally ignorant — all I’ve ever done in life is policework (plus a little brain surgery and lumberjacking, etc.), but I’m eager to learn.”
“No,” said Officer Cain, “I’m in the same boat. But I was thinking that we could check out some books from the library, and follow their guidance.”
“Good idea,” I said. “Shall we go there now? The squad car should be warmed up — I remembered to plug it in.”
“Well, I gotta kiss my wife goodbye, first,” said Officer Cain. “Plus, it’s only eight o’clock; I don’t think the library is open yet. Aren’t their hours nine to five?”
“Yeah, but it’ll take us at least sixty minutes to drive there,” I said. “Now that we live out in the country, in the rural hinterlands, we’re farther away from all the urban areas that we’re accustomed to visiting easily. We talked about this briefly before deciding to spend our life-savings on this twin-family farm, remember? The tradeoff is one type of convenience for another: Now, although we can grow our own food, we lack simple access to things like medical facilities and boutiques that sell upscale purses and cosmetics. — But you had a good idea when you mentioned that we should kiss our wives goodbye before we leave; so let’s go do that now, and then get a move on.”
So Officer Cain and I gave our respective wives a peck on the lips and also prepared healthy meals that we packed into lunch boxes for our children to bring to school. Then we stood at the front entryway and said a long goodbye to the members of our families who were gathered there before us:
“We’re off to take a trip to the local library,” we explained. “Our plan is to find some books that will teach us how to farm.”
“Wait a minute,” said Officer Cain’s wife. “Are you telling me that you two purchased this double-house on all these acres of farmland and yet neither one of you understands the first thing about agriculture?”
“That’s right,” I answered (since my partner Cain seemed flabbergasted by this hardball question), “but we’re willing to learn.”
“Oh, what a relief!” said Officer Cain’s wife, wiping her brow with a kerchief. “OK, then we’ll welcome you two with open arms when you get back.”
My partner Cain now smiled and said: “It should only take us a couple hours.”
So we climbed into our patrol cruiser and sped to the Burnhaven Library, where we found a stack of several books about everything from animal husbandry to gardening. Then we returned to our farmhouse, and, since our wives had walked to the marketplace and the kids were away at school, we immediately began implementing what we had learned.
I planted multiple rows of apple trees, and Officer Cain planted raspberry bushes and peach trees. Then we teamed up and acquired fifteen chickens, and we built a coop for them.
Also a black dog came wandering up to us from who-knows-where, and we patted his head and scratched behind his ears after feeding him some dried meat, and he became our friend — he would wander around in the field while we did all our farmwork. We named him Jack Wilton.
One of our neighbors then asked us if we would kindly watch over his farm while he enjoyed a vacation for a few years, and we agreed; then, during the course of this operation, Officer Cain and I bred the man’s cattle and brought the offspring back to our own farm to keep for ourselves. (This was part of our original agreement with our good neighbor — all he stipulated is that we wait until each newborn calf is big enough to desire to leave its mother: for none of us wanted to disturb their sacred family bonds.) So that’s how we gained a herd of cattle, over whom our black dog Jack kept watch voluntarily.
“Officer Bryan Ray,” said my partner Officer Cain, one sunny day, “did you, by any chance, plant a multitude of potatoes over here, or did they just happen to spring up wildly? For I stumbled upon this part of our farmland where potatoes are growing in abundance, and I dug one up and cut it into pieces and deep fried the slices and added some sea salt and tasted the sample, just now, and it was delicious.”
“Yes, yes! I DID plant those potatoes,” I replied. “I’m so glad you found them, and I’m happy that they taste good! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you about that project.”
“Here, try one,” said Officer Cain, holding out the basket of french fries that he had made.
“Ooh, you’re not kidding,” I cried: “these are delicious!”
Officer Cain and I also planted tomatoes, and they turned out to be more flavorful than anything store-bought.
We also planted many rows of corn, and we used fish that we caught from our local pond to fertilize the stalks.
Another area where we had great success is in planting wheat — we reaped a crop so abundant that we were able to distribute it as gifts and thus solve the famines in all the surrounding nations.
Other things that I planted were pickles, beets, radishes, asparagus, guacamole, bananas, and coconuts.
We also inherited a caravan of camels from some people in North Africa who were desirous of returning our favor, after we sent them countless shiploads of various foodstuffs as a gesture of goodwill.
Then, on Wednesday, at six o’clock sharp, we received a distress call in our police vehicle, while we were cruising thru our farmland, looking at all the flourishing crops; and, since Officer Cain was driving, I myself took the call:
“Hello, Officer Bryan Ray speaking. I’m here with Officer Cain, my longtime partner, and we’re just enjoying a sunny day driving around in the dirt of our 500 acres of farmland. We’ve been checking the hotline, as well as the citizens band radio, every five minutes, since we bought our new double-family farmhouse, but no crime has been phoned in until this moment. How can I help you?”
“Yes, my name is Cindy Candy, and my shop is being robbed at the moment. I was wondering if you could help.”
“Of course we can help,” I said; “that’s what we’re paid to do. That’s our profession. Your tax dollars assure that we cops will faithfully serve and protect you citizens. Now, what type of establishment are you the proprietress of? I’m talking about the one that’s being robbed at present. Is it a big or a small shop? And what do you sell there? Oh, and I should also ask: Where is it located?”
Cindy Candy answered in a cheerful voice: “It’s just a small grocery store on the corner of two roads in the city that are easy to reach by automobile.”
“I think I’m familiar with the locale,” I said. “Hold tight: we’ll be right there.”
Just then, our wives came home — the wife of Officer Cain, plus my own wife — so we kissed them goodbye and told them that we’d be back in roughly five minutes.
When we reached Cindy Candy’s Grocery Store, the robber was browsing thru the section that contained all the dark leafy greens:
“Excuse me, sir,” I said to the evildoer; “you don’t need to engage in an act of crime, if your goal is to feed your family. Officer Cain and I will gladly supply you with any type of ingredients that you desire. We have 500 acres of farmland in Minnesota, and we’ve managed to produce an embarrassment of riches — we have everything from camels to cows to carrots to cauliflower. All we care about is that everyone remains well-fed. We don’t give a hoot about making a profit: we simply enjoy the art of farming; and we love to share our wealth. So, allow me to make a proposition: Let us offer you, from our own stores, free of charge, whatever you were planning on shoplifting from this grocery outlet; and we’ll arrange all the stuff in a large container for you, and set it near your minivan, out in the parking lot, so that you can still feel as tho you are stealing the items illegally. We’ll even help you load the stuff into your vehicle. If you don’t have room for it all, we can temporarily stash some of your firearms in our own police cruiser’s trunk — for, lack of storage space is a common problem that we’re ALL familiar with. How does that sound?”
The robber stared at me for a great while, apparently studying my face to discern whether my speech was a joke. Then he said: “Almost thou persuadest me, but answer this question: What is in it for you, to show me such kindness and lenience? In other words: Why not just arrest me and jail me for daring to exist, since you and your partner here appear to be policemen?”
“Ah, that’s an easy one,” I replied. Then I nudged my partner and said: “You wanna try answering this fellow?”
“Sure,” said Officer Cain. “The reason that Officer Bryan Ray and I are willing to help you out is that we would far rather live in a smooth, trouble-free society than in one where people are always trying to elbow everyone else out of their way.”
The culprit stared at us, and his lips began to quiver as if he were about to burst into tears. So I said, very sternly:
“Please, sir, refrain from weeping... If YOU cry, then I’LL cry... For I’m naturally empathetic — it’s a curse that I was born with.”
So the lawbreaker agreed to accept our offer of aid, and we loaded up his van and even followed him to his building in our squad car and helped him haul the groceries into his apartment. Officer Cain and I also met the man’s wife and his kids, and they were thrilled to receive our bonus gifts: We handed them burlap sacks filled with corncobs, shellfish, and oysters; all of which we taught them how to shuck and rinse and cook and arrange on a plate.
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