by Slim Randles
Dud was out rambling around the other day, and was surprised to find the new preacher sitting beside an irrigation ditch. Dud plopped down and asked him what was wrong.
“I’ve only been here two weeks,” he said, “and someone’s stolen my bicycle. I really liked that bike.”
“Reverend,” said Dud, “everyone in this town knows everyone else, and thievery is almost unheard of. I wouldn’t take this personally as something against you, but I do have a suggestion.”
The preacher looked at Dud.
“Can you preach on the Ten Commandments?” Dud asked.
“Sure,” said the preacher. “I’m a whiz bang at the Ten Commandments.”
“Well, why not give them both barrels this Sunday? You know, the whole deal. Guilt complexes with blossom forth and I’ll bet you get your bike back.”
“Great idea,” he said, “I’ll do it!”
Dud didn’t see the preacher until the following Monday, as it turned out.
“Well, Reverend, did you roast ‘em alive with Thou Shalt Not Steal and get your bike back?”
“Not exactly,” he told Dud. “Actually I got only as far as Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery, and then I remembered where I’d left it.”
