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Depending upon whom
you ask and/or what old police reports you're able to dredge up,
Fishkill 2004 was about the eighteenth annual fishing trip for
the storied team--or, at least, for Bob and Jeff, the core
members of Jackfish Removal Services, Ltd., the non-profit
organization responsible for relentlessly raking Northern
Ontario's shoals, shorelines and weed beds and dragging out
large numbers of the region's troublesome and toothy Northern
Pike. Bob, or "Triple B," as he's known among insiders, with his
toothy, ironic grin, and Jeff, or "Luhr," as his buddies call
him, with his sun burnt honker resplendent in the northern
light, would be a formidable, if not downright scary, pair of
anglers to have in anybody's boat.
This year though, as
you'll find out in this tearfully tiresome tale, the team's
senior members were soundly outfished by a junior upstart, James
"The Snubber" Braun, who only has fifteen or so of the annual
trips under his belt. What belt might that be, you ask?
The Belt.
Yes, yes, yes: The coveted, tasteful and very shiny
trouser-stabilizer given to each year's Master Angler was
indeed awarded to the "gentleman" on the eve of their departure
in a ceremony which included one of the province's grandest
displays of roadside-acquired fireworks and majestic music
featuring a hummed medley that included "Hail to the Chief" as
well as, for some reason, a few incongruous licks culled from
"Smoke on the Water."
But let's not get
ahead of ourselves, Richard. Richard!!! Let me tell their
story. Cripes.
Father's Day Follies --> |
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