Partridge Meat

My great uncle Mac (my fathers uncle) worked for the county as a truck driver. Uncle Mac worked for district 2 which was the same district where my father's shop was located. Dad did some repair work for the county so uncle Mac, like many of the district's employees, would drop by fairly regularly to have his truck repaired. Uncle Mac was a great kidder. He loved a corny joke or a good story. While he was waiting on his truck to be repaired he would often tell us jokes or stories. Many of his best jokes or stories are not tame enough for this venue, but this one is:

One of the district 2 employees loved potted meat. Anytime the crew stopped into a country store around lunch time, this particular employee always got a can of potted meat. One day they were all sitting under a shade tree beside a little store down below Weogufka eating lunch. Suddenly the employee that loved potted meat said, I wonder how many partridges it takes to make a can of this here partridge meat. One of the crew members told him that it was not partridge meat, it was potted meat. He said, well I wonder how many partridges it takes to make a can of this potted meat. They explained to him that potted meat contained no partridge meat. Getting a little aggravated, He asked if it ain't partidge meat, then what is it? They showed him the list of ingredients on the side of the can. He read the ingredients, got up and walked over to the trash barrel and dropped the can into the trash. Uncle Mac said he never saw the guy eat potted meat again.

I know, the story isn't that funny but I like it. I also like potted meat. I know what is in it, but lots of times I call it partridge meat just for the heck of it.