Down On The Farm No More Kids At My Door 2009: Pretty Townships

Down on the Farm No more kids at my door

Pretty soon the townships are going to have to hold bake sales to grade the gravel roads.
How about a charity auction to raise funds for next winter’s snow removal In fact, pretty soon I am going to scream and say, “Raise my taxes, please!†Why Because I am sick of knocks at the door from cute little munchkins selling chocolate bars to raise money for textbooks! I used to like children, but now every time I see a kid I wonder what they’re going to sell me. As I get old and cranky, telling adult salesmen to take a hike gets easier and easier. But turning down a kid who is trying to raise money to go on a band trip is something I haven’t mastered. Oh, how they can turn on the cute. The ruthless little twerps don’t let up until you have a cupboard full of decorator soup mixes, ribbons and all. Carmel popcorn. Stationery. Baked hams. Milk Duds. Beef jerky. Pizzas. You almost feel guilty buying groceries anymore lest it take money away from the children.
Perhaps the story of the Little Match Girl traumatized me permanently, but whenever a kid comes to my door, I figure if I don’t buy something that their wretched stepfather will beat them and they will die in the cold.

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