By WR Jones
This little fellow is singing his ass off. Reminds me of myself in the morning shower.
When I was around 12 or 13 there was a wealthy man (by my hometown standards anyway) who had a pond constructed in his very large back lot. He had this pond stocked with fish. I don’t remember what all varieties he put in there but he did have bass. All the fish he originally stocked were 5lbs or larger.
He wasn’t all that gregarious, at least not to boys of our age. This meant we had to commando fish the place. This was fine with us. We would sneak out of our houses around 1AM, fish and smoke until 4, then return to bed. I had to set up a chair with a stack of books to reach the basement window through which I exited the house.
Getting back in was a bitch. I fell twice knocking over the books and chair. The first time my mom came down. I was already out of my clothes and told her I was going to the bathroom and tripped on the chair. The second time I got no response at all. She was probably thinking, “it’s just Billy going to pee; clumsy little bugger.”
We hadn’t completely thought this through on the first run. We caught a few fish, kept them on a stringer and started home. As we neared our homes we suddenly realized we had no way to explain the catch. “What’s that in the refrigerator? Don’t know; guess the fish fairy was here.” We left them on someone’s doorstep.