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Ramblin’ Roses and Flyin’ Bricks
preachers just right when we go off with ‘em on hunting and fishing trips. Maybe we try to act too nice and sort of overdo the thing. Maybe we act too cramped, which must make the preacher feel like perhaps he isn’t wanted. That isn’t true at all. Fact is, most of the deer drives I’ve been on this year were made in the company of preachers and doctors and it’s mighty comforting to know they are close around. If I should accidentally get shot I want the doctors to do everything they can to save my life and if they see they can’t make it I want the preachers to do some fast, loud and effective praying. Several years ago, when I went in for a stronger type beverage, I went fishing with a preacher friend of mine. I had a bottle hid deep down in the portable icebox and I figured by getting the preacher to fish from the front end of the boat I would be able to slip a little nip along. The preacher, though, didn’t cooperate one bit. He got in the front end, all right, but he turned around and faced me instead of fishing in front of him like all fishermen are supposed to do. It was a terrible trip, that one was. Old Mr. “X” The next time I carried the preacher I was all set for him. What I did was get 8 Coca- Colas. Four of ‘em I took and poured out all the contents, filling them back up with my favorite brand of 90 proof. On the cap of each of those bottles I cut a small “X”. WE started out fishing and it was a powerfully hot day and the preacher was sitting up front facing me again. My Negro paddler, Uncle Ed, was in the back. The preacher decided mighty soon that he wanted a Coke and I very carefully selected one for him, opening one of the “X” bottles for myself. It wasn’t twenty minutes before he asked me for another one, and to keep the one-for-him and one-for-me ratio working I had to open another of the “X” bottles, which I wasn’t ready for. I took a few sips and passed it back to Uncle Ed, who observed out loud that they certainly were making soft drink much better nowadays. We drank the eight Coca- Colas in something less than two hours which was far faster than I had figured on. I started getting my line hung in trees and Uncle Ed got to feeling mighty good and he was trying to get the Saints to Come Marching In. It was a pretty rough afternoon and Uncle Ed didn’t miss hitting a single snag in Hal’s Lake. We deserved a lot of credit, though, for keeping the preacher sober. He might have drunk his allotment and started in on the “X” bottles. The moral of this part of the column is that preachers should sit right in the boat. Blame It on Ducks Just last week, on a deer hunt, we had another preacher and I warned the crowd that we didn’t want any cussing. The pastor spoke up and said to worry about the Man Upstairs and not him, which is right when you think about it. Now my cussing isn’t of the vulgar type at all although I do use some pretty strong adjectives on special occasion. That day I did real well. I mentioned once or twice that the confounded bucks weren’t stirring like they should and that we weren’t seeing anything but dad-burned does, but along in the middle of the afternoon I was taking the preacher to his stand and we came up on a little pond. About 10 big mallards flew up and there I was with an empty gun. Then about 25 more ducks flew up and I still didn’t say anything, but I was sure thinking some bad words. We walked a little nearer and I reckon a hundred more got up. That was too many ducks and I had reached the breaking point and I’m telling you I came out with some powerfully strong language about a blank-blank moron who would walk through the woods with an unloaded gun and see that many blank-blank ducks. I wasn’t naturally embarrassed, talking like that, but you know something: I kind of suspect that preacher approved of what I said. He didn’t have his gun loaded either. Getting back to what I said at the beginning of this column: Preachers should get out more with hunters and fishermen. It would make them realize that there is till work to be done in the ministry.
Remember how the Master walked up on a bunch of fishermen one day and they weren’t catching anything in their nets on the other side and they came up with a flock of fish. The moral of this is that it’s real nice to have a preacher along.
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