Show Him Your Badge

A DEA officer stopped at our farm yesterday.

“I need to inspect your farm for illegally grown drugs,” he said.

I replied, “Okay, but don’t go in that field over there.”

The DEA officer exploded. “Mister, I have the authority of the federal government with me!”

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his badge and shoved it in my face.

“See this fucking badge? This badge means I am allowed to go wherever I wish, on any land. No questions asked, no answers given! Do I make myself clear? Do you understand?”

I nodded politely, apologized, and went back to my chores.

A short time later, I heard loud screams. I looked up and saw the DEA officer running for his life, being chased by my big old mean bull.

With every step, the bull was gaining ground, and it looked like the officer would get gored before he made it to safety.

So I threw down my tools, ran to the fence, and shouted at the top of my lungs:

“Your badge! Show him your fucking badge!”