My old Knights of Columbus council 794, in Lindenhurst, used to have an annual fishing trip each spring at Captree. One year my cousins Gary, Larry, and I went on the trip.
By 6:00 a.m. we were on the Captain Eddie B., having our traditional beer and junk food breakfast. At around 6:42, we were cruising the South Bay, poles in the water.
For a while nothing much happened as we listened to 660 am talk radio. Suddenly I felt a tug upon my pole. Everybody stared at me, with bated breath, as I spent the next ten minutes tugging away, hoping my prey would find its way out of the brackish waters.
There I was, slipping and sliding across the soaked boat floor. All my cousins and other brother knights could do was chant incessantly: “La~rry!! La~rry!!” As I’ve always been quite the considerably clumsy fellow, I was really starting to lose patience with it all.
That relatively short time seemed like an absolute lifetime as they all kept drinking and chanting, and I kept pulling and falling. Never having been an experienced fisherman, I knew I was in big trouble. Anxiety and panic attacks were fast overtaking me. Incessantly distracted by the obligatory helium animal balloons, I kept on cringing, mustering up all my fast abating might.
Finally I pulled it in, a twelve pound, thirty inch long bluefish, which spent quite a while bouncing around the boat’s floor. When we went back to our council we made arrangements for a nice big fish fry, scheduled for he next Friday. To this day, my cousins, guys from that council, and I still reminisce about the floor show I inadvertently put on.
Captree’s management put up a plaque in my honor. I no longer like to fish early in the day.
Out of Ten, how believable do you think my story is?
Read all about our latest attempt to write a work of fiction for Rory