It was Loomis’s day to walk about the grounds of the asylum. Pausing by the fence, he looked into the fields of the farmer next door.
“Hey,” he yelled, “what the heck are you doing?”
“Spreading fertilizer on the strawberries,” replied the farmer.
Shaking his head, Loomis says, “Fella, you ought to have dessert here some time.
“We eat them with cream and sugar.”
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