In a small town there’s a priest who makes good friends with his congregation.
One Sunday, a fisherman invites the priest to go fishing with him.
The next weekend, they get in a boat and spend the day fishing.
Unfortunately, neither of them has much luck, until all of a sudden, the priest feels a huge tug in his line.
With some help from the fisherman, he reels in what must be a thirty pound largemouth bass.
Forgetting himself, the fisherman cries out, “Woah, look at that big son-of-a-bitch!”
Appalled, the priest responds, “Excuse me?”
The fisherman doesn’t want to break ties with the priest, and he sees only one way out.
“Oh, no, Father, you misunderstand. This fish is called the son-of-a-bitch.”
“Oh, of course. I never would have known. Forgive me, my son.”
The fisherman cleans the gargantuan bass. They wrap up their day of fishing and head back to the priest’s home, since they’ve decided to cook up the bass for dinner.
The priest walks into the house with his cooler, and presents the fish to his cook.
“Look at this big son-of-a-bitch I caught!” he says.
“Oh my God! It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen! But are you sure you should be using that language, Father?” the cook responds.
“Oh, don’t worry. This fish’s name is ‘the son-of-a-bitch.’ The fisherman told me so.”
“Oh, I understand. I’ll start cooking it right away!”
As it happens, this priest is good personal friends with the Pope.
By chance, the Pope happens to be in town, so he stops by to see his old friend. He is invited to stay for dinner.
The fisherman, the cook, the priest, and the Pope all are enjoying their dinner, when the Pope speaks up.
“Forgive me, friends, for I know that gluttony is a sin, but I simply can’t help myself from eating this marvelous fish. I must know who is responsible.”
“Well, I caught the son-of-a-bitch,” the priest says.
“I cleaned the son-of-a-bitch,” the fisherman says.
“And I cooked the son-of-a-bitch,” the cook says.
The Pope looks around the room, astonished.
The other three men realize they may have made a great mistake.