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By rocketllama
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I'm the son of a fisherman, the grandson of a fisherman, and the father of a prissy little faggot who never killed nothing bigger than a squirrel. It disgusts me, but I don't think about it much when I'm out alone, with another fishing man's man, in the quiet wilderness on some far flung lake. Just the bugs and the silence. Out here I'm at peace, I don't have to think, not like at home with that little disappointment's pallid weak smile from so many photographs, with Louise telling me I done wrong, that I ain't a good dad, and I ain't a good dad because I didn't raise no man. A man, then that fish bit like it did, knows what to do, and I did it, not like some New York Sissy. You pull that rod, hard, crank it, crank it, bring it in. It's a strong one, bucking like a bastard, pulled me from my trusty old lawn chair, stumbling forward my crusty old heart took to racing as it can as it can only when caught in the ferocious battle between the fish, the lizard, the snake, riding the snake into the man.

That slick little Richard was wriggling and wrasslin' around under the pond and he wasn't horsing around. This was a battle, and I took it to heart. I thrashed the rod around, the shaft slipping in my hand as my boots splashed water up, this sucker was pulling me into the pond with him! I was already almost up over my galoshes, so strong. Power! Like a man! Four balls, two cocks and a whole lot of shotgun. Power that comes from health, freedom, passion. Power that was going to be breaded and fried up for supper with his cow of a wife. Big brick bitch, women were the reason Murphy went fishing. There were no women out here on the lake. If anyone would be there it would be another good man. You've got to know what's what out here. You've got to know how to handle a pole, and Mrs. Murphy wasn't any good at it. Friendship, men, poles and the rascally little swimmers. Power.

That fish wasn't giving up, but neither was a I. A man never gives up on his conquests. With fish, even more than with women, no means yes.

Harder and harder I fought against him until finally I pulled him up out of the lake and laid him flat on his back at my foot. I watched him pulsating, throbbing, flopping around in the throes of it's little death.

Then I looked up and saw the damn alien standing on the other side of the lake. He looked at me and walked away.

I haven't been the same ever since.
I don't know what this is, but it's complete.
© 2009 - 2020 rocketllama
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