THE HORTH WHITHPERER …
A guy calls his buddy, the horse rancher, and says he’s sending a friend over to look at a horse.
His buddy asks, ‘How will I recognize him?’
‘That’s easy; he’s a dwarf with a speech impediment.’
So, the dwarf shows up, and the guy asks him if he’s looking for a male or female horse.
‘A female horth.’
So he shows him a prized filly…
‘Nith lookin horth. Can I thee her eyeth?’
So the guy picks up the dwarf and he gives the horse’s eyes the once over.
‘Nith eyeth, can I thee her earzth?’
So he picks the little fella up again, and shows him the horse’s ears.
‘Nith earzth, can I thee her mouf?’
The rancher is getting pretty ticked off by this point, but he picks him up again and shows him the horse’s mouth.
‘Nice mouf, can I see her twat?’
Totally mad at this point, the rancher grabs him under his arms and rams the dwarf’s head up the horse’s fanny, pulls him out and slams him on the ground.
The midget gets up, sputtering and coughing.
‘Perhapth I should rephrase that. Can I thee her wun awound a widdlebit?’