The golfer sliced a ball into a field of chickens, striking one of the hens and killing it instantly. He was understandably upset, and sought out the farmer.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “my terrible tee-shot hit one of your hens and killed it. Can I replace the hen?”
“I don’t know about that,” replied the farmer, mulling it over. “How many eggs a day do you lay?”
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