“Fawkinnae! I’m going to have to go into shore,” I yelled. “Chilly, see if there’s any toilet paper in the front of the boat will you?” “Oh dad, do you have to take a crap again?” Chilly said with a smirk.
I knew I needed to stop fishing and take care of business, but I couldn’t quite get myself to reel up that jig. Sure enough, BAM! A good fish smacked my leech. I could tell right away this was a better fish. I couldn’t move him. “Fawkinnae, I love fishing,” I said, to no one in particular. Just then, I was again reminded that I desperately needed to get to the shore. “Fawkinnae.”
I was up on my feet now, trying to concentrate on two things at once. I was shuffling along, unable to pick up my feet, following this beast of a fish around the boat. With my legs slightly bent and my eyes half-closed, I’m squeezing my ass together as hard as I can, praying that this fish will start to move. The big fish seemed to be weakening until it took off toward the front of the boat like a golden rocket. I took two pathetic shuffling steps forward and tripped on the landing net lying on the floor of the boat. Clunk! I dropped to my knees and tipped over on my side, knees still bent. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Chilly convulsing with laughter. This is bad. I know there’s going to be a stain.
“Chilly, I’m in trouble here, grab my rod and help me up. I need you to start the big motor and run the boat. As soon as I get this son-of-a-bitch in you’ve got to get me to shore.” Somehow I got back on my feet. It’s a miracle, but I could finally feel the big fish starting to let go of the bottom. I got him up to the surface and it’s a beauty, nine plus I figure. Chilly nets him between stomach numbing spasms of laughter. “Set him down and get me to shore as fast as you can!”
I was standing in the front of the boat, unfortunately not paying attention to anything except my pending relief. Five feet from shore Chilly hit a rock the size of Rhode Island that I should have been watching for. I did a complete flip out of the front of the boat and landed flat on my back in about 15” of water. I stood up, shuffled up the rocks on the shore line and dashed (sort of) about 10’ into the woods, and pulled down my pants. Oh it’s bad - Fawkinnae...
“Chilly give me the fillet knife.” I cut off my underwear and hung them on a small tree next to me. It reminds me of a white surrender flag. Let’s see, did I win the battle or lose the battle? “Fawkinnae Chilly, let’s take another look at that fish before we let it go.”
Hey, I’ve got a great product idea for you—The Fawkinnae Sportsman’s Diaper. “When that 9 pound walleye just can’t wait.”
P.S. The names have been changed to protect the son of the desperate fisherman.
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