An undercover cop came to my farm out in the sticks yesterday evening.

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

“By all means, Officer—just don’t go in that field over there,” I replied.

The cop exploded. “Do you know who the fuck I am?! I have the authority of the government with me!” he shouted, pulling a badge out of his back pocket. “Do you see this fucking badge?! This badge means I can do what I want, and I’ll go wherever the fuck I want. Have I made myself clear?!”

I nodded politely, apologized, and went back to work.

A short while later, I heard loud screaming. I looked up and saw the cop running for his life, being chased by my angry bull. With every step, the bull was gaining ground, and it looked like he was gonna get gored before he reached safety.

The officer looked terrified and kept running for his life.

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

“Your badge—show him your fucking badge!”