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This story was written
for submission to Reader's Digest in 1992. This is a
true story: any resemblance to actual humor is
intentional. :)
Setting
The Hook
"Let's go
fishing!" said my son, Nathan. The suggestion was
only half-hearted, as it was a sunny Texas day- the sun
beating down hot, and my hair sticking wetly to my neck.
My husband, Thurston, sat nearby, concerned for the
moment only with the ice-cold lemonade I had recently
brought him.
"Hey, that's not a half-bad suggestion," I
said, "It would be great for you two to do a 'man
thing' together."
"Man thing?" asked Nathan; and "What do
you mean 'you two'?" asked Thurston.
"But, but, I don't fish!" I protested.
"Oh, come on, mom, it won't be any fun without
you." I knew I was outgunned with that line, so
with a show of bravado we prepared to go fishing. We
grabbed the phone book and found a nearby 'Catfish Pond'.
They are small, privately-owned ponds that are stocked
with fish every few months. Basically, you are guaranteed
to catch something. Then you are charged by the pound
for whatever you catch. That sounded like the place for
us! We scanned our equipment: Thurston's pole, Nathan's
pole, OOOPS! No pole for me, guess I can't go after all.
"No problem," says Thurston, "You can
rent them there." Oh, well. Fried chicken for
lunch, the poles, and the bait are assembled. And....
we're off!
More summer sun, more sweat, and we are not catching any
fish. All around the pond people are landing fish after
fish, but not us. Finally, Thurston catches one! Now
Nathan is excited again. My bait keeps getting chewed
off the hook. Every time it disappears, I have to ask my
husband to bait my hook for me. I tried to do it myself
once, really I did; but the feel of that fat worm, and
pushing the hook through it, gave me the creeps.
Bored, I wandered off by myself, further around the
pond, while my men were busy casting and reeling . I sat
right at the edge of the pond so I could dangle my feet
in the water. Aaaaah, that felt so good, as hot as the
day was. I wiggled my toes around, watching the ripples
that I made.
Aaaaaeeeeeee! Startled fishers watched in amazement as I
screamed and jumped straight up- a huge old fish had
just attempted to swallow my toes!!! "It bit me! It
bit me!" I screamed hysterically, as I watched it
swim away just under the silvery surface of the water!
All around the pond, fishermen began laughing at me.
Embarrassed, I got mad at that fish for making me look
foolish. While everyone was distracted by their mirth, I
meekly dropped my line in the water right where I had
last seen that dad-blamed fish. Wouldn't you know it?
That same big ole fish hit my line! The hook held him
fast, but I was so startled by success that my mind
totally blanked out on what to do next! I forgot that
the line could be reeled in, so I started BACKING UP...
pulling the line up the bank. I kept on backing up until
that crazy, toe-eating catfish was up on the bank! I was
oblivious to the hysterics of the fishers around the
pond, because I was too busy yelling, "I got him! I
got him!" as I backed up the slope.
Thurston has never forgiven me for catching the biggest
fish of the day while using a rented pole; and I have
never forgotten the feel of that cold, slimy fish mouth
trying to swallow my toes on a sunny Texas Day. |
Copyright
June 24, 1992, J Montgomery
author's note: I am now quite a good fisherwoman, and adore
fishing. I bait my own hooks, have my own tackle, and clean
my own catch when I am fortunate enough to catch something-
But I STILL will never forget that toe-eating catfish!
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