My utter writing talent

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I'm bored, so I decided I'd put down my extra short story garbage I wrote like a year ago, the 11 is because this is part of a series of work, and I found it very amusing to write around 17 stories about random things

If this topic is ignored, I shall promptly delete my account

(11)The Farmer's Daughter

The farmer was a large, bulky man of some seventy-four inches.
His hands were ten inches long, and six inches wide, and he could hoe a whole field in the blink of an eye. His daughter was similar to him. She was some seventy inches, her hands were nine inches long, five inches wide, and she could consume an entire carrot in the munch of a mouth. They got along well until one fateful day when his hands fell off. This wasn't particularly interesting, besides the fact that he could not click them back on as usual. He carried them inside, and he showed them to his daughter.
"Paw," she said, "can't ya' jus' click 'em back on agen?"
"No dearie, no can do. Listen 'ere."
There was a dreadful crunch as he attempted to stick his hands back in place. The farmer's daughter was appalled. Now her paw couldn't hoe the fields, couldn't read her bedtime stories. So she had to work on her own, and this solitary work was grueling. Her paw was not the same as usual, and he often sobbed in devastation at being unable to work the land any longer.
One day, while she hoed the fields (it took her two blinks of an eye), she saw a strange mystic bottle, casually sitting in the shade. The farmer's daughter squinted her eyes, and read.
"The specialty glue, gets all parts moving" so she decided her paw would be fixed, and she raced home, where her father lay, stretched out on a sofa.
"Paw!" she yelped, "I found a mystic bottle 'ere!" Her father stood up, quickly, his eyes full of confusion and disappointment.
"Dag nab it, girl. You weren't to ever find that bottle."
"You don' wanna be well, paw?"
"Heck no! I hate them fields!"
"well, Paw, I gotta fix you up!"
"No sirree! I aint gonna go back to workin' the land, nor nothing lak that. No sirree!"
His daughter paid no heed to his definite answers, and grabbed the glue. Her paw began to run, and they raced about the house, until he quit the house, ran into the fields, and he churned up the land quicker than he ever hoed it.
From then on, the farmer's daughter chased him out into the fields every day, and all was well again.