A NY lawyer goes duck hunting in West Virginia and shoots a prize. The bird falls down on the wrong side of a fence, however, and he has to climb over to get it. The farmer who owns the land, sees this and immediately takes issue, claiming the duck for his own. The lawyer gets huffy and says, "I'm an attorney and I know the law. This may be your land, but the duck was in the sky, which no one owns, and it was my bullet in my gun, so it's my duck." The farmer says, "Oh, yeah? That may be the NY way, but down here in WVa, when there's a dispute over ownership we setle it with the 3-kick rule." Lawyer, "Which is?" "I kick you 3 times, you kick me 3 times, etc, etc, and whoever says uncle first gives up the duck. My land--me first.

" Lawyer looks at the farmer who is about twenty years older and pretty scrawny, while he is toned and buffed from time at the athletic club that he billed as client hours. He agrees. Farmer steps up and takes a running kick with his steel-toed shit-kickers at the lawyer's crotch. Lawyer doubles over as his nuts explode and ends up on his knees gasping for breath. "One, " says the farmer, aiming a shot to the head that almost rips the lawyer's nose off. Lawyer is now face down in the mud. "Two, " says the farmer and winds up for a last kick in the kidney. Ribs crack audibly. "Three, " says the farmer, and stands back. Dazed, bleeding and breathless, the lawyer staggers to his feet and grabs the fence post, panting. After a long moment he says hoarsely, "OK.

My turn." "Never mind, " says the farmer, "you can keep the duck."