Saturday, October 29, 2011


Warning: You should not read this post when you're eating. Or breathing. Or living.

I love fishing. It's just that I have a crippling weakness for the fish, and whenever I catch one I have to throw it back. The hard part is explaining it to my dad.

DAD: Jane! That was a beautiful catch! Why did you throw it back?

ME: It was too little.

DAD: It was a foot long!

ME: Well, that's too little.

And then there was The Fluke.

I was having a really good day. Fishing with Dad and my Grandad.

Nothing we caught was very good, so I decided to name them.

ME: We've had 2 sea robins and four flukes.

GRANDADDY: I got a bite!

We reeled him in.

DAD: What a specimen!ME: He's nice. Now throw him back.


CAPTAIN: He sure looks legal.

ME, TUGGING ON GRANDADDY'S HAND: Throw him back, Grandaddy.

DAD: You hear that, Janie? We just caught our dinner.

ME: Throw him back!

GRANDADDY: Naw, we gonna eat him.

ME: Great. His name will be...

DAD: Don't do that or you'll feel sad when we eat him.

ME: Eat him?!

They stored him under the bench. As I fished, I could hear him flopping about, gasping.
Finally, they put him in some water. He lay there, looking at me.

I waited inside the cabin when they took him to gut him and tear off his skin.

This is probably one of the most violent blog posts ever.

I also just called him The Fluke because Dad said I couldn't name him.

So anyway, we brought his remains home, cooked him, and ate him.

So, after The Fluke...

I think I'll stick to lobster.


1 comment:

  1. You are so creative! I feel the same way about fishing that you do. I can't stand the gasping part.

    Tell your mom I said hi!