Another fishing story.

A long time Reverend that has lived in the city for all his fifty years gets
a transfer to a northern church far away from any city. He is pretty exited
about the move as he has always wanted to go fishing. It was early January
so he visits a sporting goods store to get all the latest ice fishing gear
before his long trip to the northern town.

He gets himself settled in the small town and decides that he would head
out for some ice fishing that afternoon, so he packs up the car and heads
out to go fishin'. He drags all his equipment out to the ice and assembles
the gas powered auger and readies himself to pull the ripcord when all of a
sudden he hears a low and droning voice from what seems to be coming from
above "you won't catch anything there".
The reverend looks up toward the heavens and wonders a bit? He moves
himself a short distance to what seems a good spot and just as he goes to
start the auger he hears the droning, soft, low voice once more "you wont
catch anything there".
GOD? Is that you? No answer. So the Reverend moves a short distance once
again and proceeds to attempt another borehole, putting his hand on the
starter cord the voice once again drones out the same phrase..."you won't
catch anything there".
The reverend asks "is that you God"? Somewhat disturbed and in amazement he
hears the voice utter softly "No, it's me, the arena manager".
--
Steve


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