Groaning Oldies

From Friar's Club Encyclopedia of Jokes by Barry Dougherty.

Warren worked for a small mining operation, so he was used to the desolate little towns of the Southwest. But when he was sent to Dry Gulch for a couple of months, something seemed strange from the very beginning. One night when he was in the local saloon, he realized what it was.

“Say,” he said to the bartender, “aren’t there any women in this town?”

“Nope,” admitted the bartender. “The men here had so little to offer that all the women packed up and left years ago.”

Warren’s face fell. “That’s pretty grim. What do the guys do on a Saturday night?”

“They do it with pigs,” was the bartender’s cool reply.

“Yecch!” Warren retched and left in disgust. But after a few weeks of total boredom, he found himself back in the saloon, and casually inquired as to where the pigs in question were to be found.

The bartender was free with the information. “Just behind the farmhouse at the top of the hill.”

One look at the pigs slopping around in the muddy pen was almost enough to send Warren back down the hill. But just as he was turning away, he spotted the cutest pig you could ever hope to see, with big brown eyes, a bow on the top of her head, and not a bit of mud on her little pink trotters. Quite smitten, he led her out of the sty, down the hill, and into the saloon for a drink. But to Warren’s surprise his arrival caused quite a commotion, and all the seedy types backed away from him into the far corners of the bar. “Hey, what’s up?” asked Warren angrily of the bartender. “You told me everyone in the place goes out with pigs.”

“True enough,” admitted the bartender, “but we weren’t expecting you to take the sheriff’s girl.”