I didn’t know it was the off-season! Didn’t have a secret… Fuck, still don’t. I Didn’t fuckin know!
Maybe I’d have a better story if I had. Not that I don’t have some trespassing, poaching, shitty-fisher stories…
Because, I do.
When young; only the art of the catch mattered… Later in life, the quality creeps in… and it fucks shit up… And it seems that the investment should represent the yield… (it doesn’t) So much fuckin bullshit… It really doesn’t in fishing.
…
That trout…
She’d already hit me, earlier that day…
Even before I’d caught that fish that day… She had hit a different lure… I threw at her, she took that fucking little bait… She bowed me over, breached, and threw that lure a long ways away from her…
But… She HIT!
She was hungry!
Fuckin Knew I had her ass, then!!
And I had the worst case of The Fever I’ve ever had! Fucking shaking with anticipation! Having been soo fucking close and then she threw my bait…
Getting crushed and sticking with it means something in fishing…
I knew I had something aggressive in my pocket, though… Excessive vibration… Excessive movement… Plenty of fucking hooks… So I strapped that shit on and threw it just out of her reach… Reeling it in before she could get to it…
And then did that again… but just a fucking tad closer…
And again…
And again.
And again
But, finally, just close enough.
…
She attacked…
Her…, nor I, let up…
That fight was ON!
Wish that day in my life was every single fuckin day of my life.
…
But, the secret of an illegal fish on an illegal day? That has never crossed my mind, until you just mentioned it…
But, there’s somethin in it, maybe…
I was just fishing. Fuck, I still am.
When that Fever hits you. You’ll do shit you wouldn’t normally do.
There’s something so special about it being off season. Like… the fact that you caught this beautiful creature and it had to be kept secret.
I didn’t know it was the off-season! Didn’t have a secret… Fuck, still don’t. I Didn’t fuckin know!
Maybe I’d have a better story if I had. Not that I don’t have some trespassing, poaching, shitty-fisher stories…
Because, I do.
When young; only the art of the catch mattered… Later in life, the quality creeps in… and it fucks shit up… And it seems that the investment should represent the yield… (it doesn’t) So much fuckin bullshit… It really doesn’t in fishing.
…
That trout…
She’d already hit me, earlier that day…
Even before I’d caught that fish that day… She had hit a different lure… I threw at her, she took that fucking little bait… She bowed me over, breached, and threw that lure a long ways away from her…
But… She HIT!
She was hungry!
Fuckin Knew I had her ass, then!!
And I had the worst case of The Fever I’ve ever had! Fucking shaking with anticipation! Having been soo fucking close and then she threw my bait…
Getting crushed and sticking with it means something in fishing…
I knew I had something aggressive in my pocket, though… Excessive vibration… Excessive movement… Plenty of fucking hooks… So I strapped that shit on and threw it just out of her reach… Reeling it in before she could get to it…
And then did that again… but just a fucking tad closer…
And again…
And again.
And again
But, finally, just close enough.
…
She attacked…
Her…, nor I, let up…
That fight was ON!
Wish that day in my life was every single fuckin day of my life.
…
But, the secret of an illegal fish on an illegal day? That has never crossed my mind, until you just mentioned it…
But, there’s somethin in it, maybe…
I was just fishing. Fuck, I still am.
When that Fever hits you. You’ll do shit you wouldn’t normally do.
I understand that.