“That water is clear…”
Dateline: Can’t tell ya
It has come down to this,
I have way-pointed… a plant.
There is a lily pad out there with my name on it.
Now before we get too far into this tale I must make you aware of some of the parameters of this here story since it is a pure fishing story, and I’m telling it from the POV of an angler, me, I must, rightfully, give you full disclosure on the inner workings of angler storytelling:
- Some, but not quite all of this story, are lies.
- What ain’t lies may in fact be some stretching of the truth.
- What ain’t stretching of the truth may in fact be exaggerations.
- And in fact in re-telling this story over the years both me and the bass will be gaining weight.
- And when I up and pass away my children will tell my grandchildren of their Granddaddy’s damn-near Connecticut State Record Bass.
Just so you know upfront-like.
I also won’t be givin’ you any details I don’t want to give you, that’s fair in angling storytelling, but I will, being a trained journalist, give you those four or five “W” things that I was taught every story has to have. Here goes:
- WHO: Me, and my buddy, Dr. Mac.
- WHAT: Not saying, see paragraph above
- WHERE: None of your business, see ‘graph see.
- WHEN: Maybe, yesterday, maybe not.
- WHY: Frankly I’m not sure.
- HOW: See WHY above.
Okay, now we can do this, my first angler storytellin’ with me actually holding a pole and flinging fish catching stuff every-which-way in the hopes there is one bass left on this planet that hasn’t had fishing catching stuff flung his/her way.
Comes, WHOOSH…
