|
| A blonde wanted to go
ice fishing. She'd seen many books on the subject, and
finally, after getting all the necessary "tools"
together, she made for the nearest frozen lake. After
positioning her comfy footstool, she started to make a
circular cut in the ice. Suddenly---from the sky---a
voice boomed, "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE!"
Startled, the blonde moved further down the ice, poured a
Thermos of cappuccino, and began to cut yet another hole.
Again, from the heavens, the voice bellowed, "THERE
ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE!" The Blonde, now quite
worried, moved way down to the opposite end of the ice,
set up her stool, and tried again to cut her hole. The
voice came once more. "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE
ICE!" She stopped, looked skyward, and said, "Is
that you, Lord?" The voice replied, "NO, THIS
IS THE MANAGER OF THE ICE RINK." |
|
|
