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Gone Fishing

15 Jul

The boat was loaded down with all the best gear: Rods – Shakespeare Ugli-Stick, reels – golden Penns, nylon line – 50 lb test and bait – alive & kickin’ shrimp fresh from the docks. Days had gone into the planning: checking the tides and the line of the stars to the moon and potential invitees’ horoscopes had been perused, with unlucky participants thrown to the wayside. Licenses were in order, life jackets measured for proper fit and the rest of the required Coast Guard gear was safely stowed below. The Weather Channel had been the background wallpaper for days and with charts and graphs laid upon the kitchen table, forcing the dining on trays set up in the den for all Pre-D-day meals. The motor had been primed in the driveway with the Micky Mouse ears in place and extra gas
tanks loaded in case the fish were biting and it would be a long day. “Fresh Fish Tonight!” they called as they backed out the driveway and “Bon Voyage” was retorted by the wife left behind to assure the contingent steaks she would remove from the freezer were thoroughly defrosted by the time of their return for dinner.

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Posted by on July 15, 2010 in Flash Fiction, humor

 

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