2737. The fishing trip

The thing was I didn’t know anything about driving a boat. A fisherman friend had invited me one Sunday to go fishing out at sea and I said I would enjoy that. We went what I thought was “way out to sea” but he said it wasn’t far from shore at all. But it was far enough for me to have to pretend that I wasn’t scared.

I didn’t catch anything – to be honest I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. My friend caught a snapper. One fish is enough for two people’s dinner, but no, we had to try for more. I just wanted to get out of this “petrified at the huge expanse of sea” scenario and go home.

Suddenly a great big tentacle came over the side of the boat. There was sort of something like suction pads on it. The tentacle coiled itself around my friend’s leg and dragged him over the side into the water. He disappeared. I presume he drowned or was eaten by the octopus or whatever it was.

I was terrified out of my skin. Was the tentacle going to come for me? I didn’t have a clue how to start the boat engine or how to drive it. In the end I figured it was like driving a car. I turned the ignition on, somehow put the thing into gear, and pointed the boat towards the shore. Things got a bit rough with the occasional wave but I kept going. When that tentacle came up over the side again I threw the snapper into the water and that seem to distract it from pursuing me as prey.

Eventually I made it to shore, although I didn’t know how to park it properly. There were a few people on the pier, and when I called out they were able to help.

The first thing I did was inform the police. I told them exactly what I’ve just told you now. I was extremely shaken and credible. But I couldn’t help but think that my “friend” won’t be doing a line with my girlfriend anymore.

2561. A true story for Halloween

Conor was invited by Jordan, his brother, and Jordan’s friend, Everett, to go on a fishing trip with them out to sea. They would stay on an uninhabited island overnight. They brought along a tent and some supplies. The island was several miles from the mainland. It used to be used in the old days to house prisoners. Many a criminal had died on the island. In fact, there was a story – not true of course – that at night if you heard an owl screech rather than hoot, you would hear the rattle of prisoners’ chains as they began their nightly and murderous prowls.

The three lads did a bit of fishing, caught a couple of fish, and then moored on the island to set up camp. It didn’t take long; modern day tents are easy things to install.

The time came for the fish to be cooked for dinner. There was plenty of wood about, but oh dear! they had forgotten to bring any matches. Jordan and Everett volunteered to go to the mainland and return with matches. It should take only about an hour. They left. A little later a storm came up. Conor knew his brother and friend wouldn’t return in a rough sea. It was beginning to get dark and there was no food or light. There was nothing for it than to go to bed early.

Conor snuggled down in his sleeping bag. That was when he heard an owl screech. Was that a shape at the entrance to his tent?

2556. Fish guts

Thank you for your brilliant article on how to gut a fish. For years now I’ve been a fishing enthusiast, but I always leave the fish in the fridge for my husband to gut when he comes home, and then we can enjoy a lovely fish dinner. But now I’m single – again – so your article was timely.

I’ve always been a little embarrassed to ask how to gut a fish. First of all it seems a ruthless business and terribly yucky. Secondly it’s one of those topics one doesn’t really talk about. Did I ever tell you about how I gutted a fish? So your article was wonderful because it tackled the activity head on, taboo or not.

I’ve been practising. The yuckiest, and to me scariest, bit is actually slitting the fish open in the first place. I’m becoming quite immune to it. I’ve taken all my now-grown children’s soft toys, and using the kitchen carving knife, I’ve slit each open and removed the stuffing. It works brilliantly, and now I almost feel confident enough to try it on a real fish. The trouble is that I’ve run out of stuffed toys and I really need to perfect my technique.

Next Thursday I’m going fishing with Madison. She has a goldfish pond. I suggested we meet at her house first.

2425. Successful day’s fishing

When Barton took his family out on his boat for a day’s fishing, he reluctantly consented to include Llewellyn in the party. Llewellyn was a friend of his wife and Barton had long suspected his wife and Llewellyn were having an affair.

Barton was not one to be consumed by jealousy or rage. Perhaps, he thought, such suspicions were in his mind. Just ignore such thoughts and get on with life.

They were several miles out to sea and fishing lines were cast. What a perfect day for fishing! Blue sea! Blue sky! Oleander (that was Barton’s wife’s name) caught a fish. Oh the excitement! Oh the fuss! Llewellyn was all over her – so to speak. He couldn’t shut up about how clever she was. How perfect she was. How lovely she was. How intelligent she was. How confoundedly talented. How… Oh for goodness sake.

The day was hot. Barton asked if anyone want to go for a dip in the sea. Oh yes! Llewellyn was the first to dive in. Barton shoved the boat into top gear and headed for home.

1641. A fishy story

Basil’s job was to design labels for fish food packaging. He had worked for Fins and Gills Fish Food Company for eleven years. Being a graphics designer, the Fins and Gills Fish Food Company was the last place that Basil would have thought he would end up. But the fish food company produced such a variety of aquarium products that a permanent packaging designer was called for.

As you can probably imagine, eleven years working for a fish food making establishment would drive anyone crazy; even thick, boring people. And drive Basil crazy it did. He was thick. He was boring. Now he was crazy. At first his idiocy was almost imperceptible; for example on the packaging for an aquarium thermometer he coloured in the picture of a Siamese Tigerfish so that it looked like it had pink stripes. Pink stripes! But things went from bad to worse. Oh no! Oh yes!

Everyone noticed. You couldn’t miss it. In every packaging picture the fish were naked. Completely starkers. Not even a fish wearing skimpy underwear. Responsible parents could no longer purchase Fins and Gills Fish Food for their children’s goldfish bowl. The fish food business went out of business. Basil was left without a job. Meanwhile, little boys sniggered at the fish food packets that they kept hidden under their iPads. Even the fish food display at the International Fish Food Museum had to cover up the Fins and Gills Fish Food packing boxes. As Ms Myrtle Browningham of the Fish Food Manufacturers’ Union said: Disgusting! Nude fish! What will they think of next? It’s sickening.

And that’s the naked truth.

1342. Lost trust

Every day after school Biddy would go down to the lake to feed the fish. A good dozen trout used to wait for her, and then dart around excitedly when she appeared. They knew her and Biddy knew them. She even had names for some of them: Spot, Rainbow, Shadow, Speedy…

One day her mother said, “Why don’t you catch one for dinner? There’s plenty there, and one less fish won’t matter.”

So Biddy did that. She got a little fishing line, and fortunately caught one of the trout that didn’t have a name.

But none of the fish ever came back to see Biddy again. They disappeared into the depths of the lake. She had lost their trust.

648. Ocean Day in Japan

© Bruce Goodman 20 July 2015

“Hurrah!” shouted Atsushi. “Today is Ocean Day in Japan! Let’s kill a whale!”

“Yes! Yes!” shouted Kiyoshi. “Let’s kill a whale for scientific research. In fact, let’s kill three whales!”

“No! No!” shouted Takayuki. “It’s Ocean Day in Japan! Let’s kill all the whales in the world!”

“Yes! Yes!” shouted Osamu. “But let’s kill them to eat!”

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted Shoji and Kaede and Hotaka and Aki and Mitsuo and Akihito and…

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

619. A fisherman’s tale

© Bruce Goodman 21 June 2015

Logan was almost five years old. He loved to go fishing with his Dad. Sometimes his grandfather would come fishing too. They would fish in the river.

There was a quota limit of five trout per person. Logan’s father and grandfather had caught twenty-three.

“I’d better take these fish home in the car before the ranger turns up,” said Logan’s grandfather.

He went off in the car. Logan and his Dad stayed on fishing.

But who is this approaching? It is a stranger in uniform.

“Hello,” said the stranger. “Have you had any luck with fishing?”

“Yes! Yes!” said Logan excitedly. “My Dad caught twenty-three fish, but my grandfather has taken them home in the car.”