Why Am I So Special, Pa?

“How was your first day in third grade, Johnny?” asked his father.

“Good,” said Johnny. “The teacher asked each of us to count to 100. Some kids couldn’t get past 30, but I made all the way to 100 without a single mistake!”

“That’s good, son. That’s because you’re from Arkansas.”

After the next day of school, he asked again.

“I did good today, too, Dad. In language class, we had to say the alphabet. Some kids couldn’t get past P, but I made all the way to Z without a single mistake!”

“That’s good, son. That’s because you’re from Arkansas.”

After the third day of school, Johnny came home looking troubled.

“What’s the matter, son?” asked Dad.

“Oh, I dunno. Today we had Physical Education, and afterwards, in the shower, I noticed that, well, the other boys in my class, uh, well Dad, they all have little tiny ones. Mine must be ten times bigger than theirs! Is that because I’m from Arkansas?”

“No, son,” explained Dad. “That’s because you’re 18!”

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