Once, a keen angler, rod in tow headed out in his boat to a spot on a lake where he had known much success. He hummed a cheerful pop tune as his mind projected bellyful reminiscences of prior tasty repasts. This afternoon he was particularly hungry and it was with some resolve and malevolence that he settled his craft in his “good luck” spot. As luck would have it a fetching mullet soon came bobbing by.
To conserve stock, our excited piscator put out a small worm bait. Perhaps the white sucker didn’t see it because after ten minutes it was clear it wouldn’t bite. Fine, thought the angler so he laid out a particularly inviting morsel. The white sucker would nose around the hook, kind of consider whether to go for it (or not) and then it would swim away with an annoying nonchalance. This drove the angler to exasperation. After another half hour he concluded that he would have to try something more drastic. By now, he was riven with hunger, a state well known for turning gentlemen into raving lunatics. So he brought out his fish net and every time the mullet would swim by, the ravished angler would plunge the net into the water and sweep a wide arc in a wild effort to ensnare his lunch.
After an hour and with sweat long dripping down his back and beyond, frustration finally got the better of him and, mind lost, he screamed out at the fish: “You’re supposed to be my dinner, dammit!”. To which the fish cocked its head and retorted, “Yes, but you’ve got to catch me first!” before swimming down to the nether depths of the lake.
Copyright 2012. d3mola