An old man lived alone on a farm. He wanted to spade his potato
>garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, who used to help
> him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and
>described his predicament:
> Dear Son,
>
> I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't be able to
>plant my potato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up
> garden plots. If you were here, all my troubles would be over. I
>know you would dig the plot for me.
>
> Love, Dad
>
> A few days later he received a letter from his son:
>
> Dear Dad,
>
> For heaven's sake, Dad, don't dig up that garden. That's where I
>buried the bodies!
>
> Love, Son
>
> At 4:00 AM the next morning, F.B.I. agents and local police showed
>up and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They
> apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man
>received another letter from his son:
>
> Dear Dad,
>
> Go ahead and plant the potatoes now. That's the best I could do
>under the circumstances.
>
> Love, Son
