It was a cold winter day. An old man walked out onto a frozen lake, cut a hole in the ice and dropped in his fishing line. He was there for almost an hour, without even a nibble, when a young boy walked out onto the ice, cut a hole in the ice not far from him. The young boy dropped his fishing line and minutes later he hooked a Largemouth Bass.
The old man couldn’t believe his eyes but chalked it up to plain luck. But, shortly thereafter, the young boy pulled in another large catch.
The young boy kept catching fish after fish. Finally, the old man couldn’t take it any longer. “Son, I’ve been here for over an hour without even a nibble. You’ve been here only a few minutes and have caught a half dozen fish! How do you do it?”
The boy responded, “Roo raf roo reep ra rums rrarm.”
“What was that?” the old man asked.
Again the boy responded, “Roo raf roo reep ra rums rarrm.”
“Look,” said the old man, “I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
The boy spit the contents of his mouth into his hand and said, “You have to keep the worms warm!”
My job as a land surveyor took me to a golf course that was expanding from 9 holes to 18 holes.
Using a machete to clear thick brush in an area I was mapping, I came upon a golf club that an irate player must have tossed away. It was in good condition, so I picked it up and continued on.
When I broke out of the brush onto a putting green, two golfers stared at me in awe. I had a machete in one hand, a golf club in the other, and behind me was a clear-cut swath leading out of the woods.
“There,” said one of the golfers, “is a guy who hates to lose his ball!”
As in many homes on New Year’s Day, my wife and I faced the annual conflict of which was more important - the football games on television, or the dinner itself. To keep peace, I ate dinner with the rest of the family, and even lingered for some pleasant after-dinner conversation before retiring to the family room to turn on the game.
Several minutes later, my wife came downstairs and graciously even bought a cold drink for me. She smiled, kissed me on the cheek and asked what the score was. I told her it was the end of the third quarter and that the score was still nothing to nothing.
“See?” she said, continuing to smile, “You didn’t miss a thing.”
A three-year-old regularly watched football games with his father. So much so, that he knew some of the signals the referee makes.
On a recent Sunday, the three-year-old attended church with the family. As the pastor raised his hands high to offer a blessing, the child interrupted the service by shouting, “Touchdown!”
- Taken from Good Clean Fun