We go fishing every weekend now, Andy and me. I help him load up all the gear and we head out to Fenton Lake. Sure, we're tired after working all week. I clean the rich peoples' houses and he fixes their fancy cars. We don't get much pay but it puts food on the table. I guess fishing ain't that bad after all - gets us out in the nice clean air after we both spend all week inside with dirty smells of one kind or another. I even got Andy a new pole last month. He fussed and fumed like he does whenever I buy anything at all, but I think he liked it. It's a red rod and reel they said was the best kind for trolling, and that's what we do a lot of. He lets me use it pretty often. Sometimes I think I'm getting better at this fishing thing than he is.
I even put the damn worms on the hooks my own self now. Andy says he'll do it, but I figure what the hell. Just in case there's any hope at all that some slimy old fish could manage to repeat history and find my pretty, lucky stone at the bottom of the lake and SWALLOW it! Who knows, maybe it's already happened. And if it did, I want the biggest, fattest worm to lure that fish in and make him bite my hook. So once I get the line baited up and dropped in the water, I fish all day long. It's all Andy can do to get me to stop – and most times, that's well after dark, and all the stars are shining on the water, like little opals all the way from Australia.
If you enjoyed this post, you might enjoy the post called 'Funny Bead Story'.