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Copyright 1999-2006
No reproduction of any kind.
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To Catch A Catfish
Submitted by: William Valitus
The lake I live on has the biggest, smartest Catfish
that exist in any body of water on the face of the earth. There
have been sightings of these gargantuan monsters erupting from
the surface of the water to snatch aquatic birds in flight. The
local canine population will not venture within ten feet of the
lake. The Catfish have been seen devouring ducks, pelicans, and
any other living thing that ventured into their domain. They
even chased swimmers out of the beach areas, showing a definite
preference for the female of the species. These Catfish evolved
to the point where they have acquired the smarts to shun any
bait that had a hook in it.
The size of these leviathans is such that if one
were fortunate enough to
empt one to bite, even a smaller one, it would easily exceed
the world record. I became obsessed with trying to catch one
of these six or seven foot long denizens of the deep.
I fished night and day for months on end using
every concoction of Catfish bait I could beg, borrow, steal,
or even buy. Every bait; smelly stuff found in Catfish bait shops,
chicken guts found in chicken gut stores, and road kill; both
fresh and seasoned, proved to be ineffective. My garage is loaded
to overflowing with Catfish bait potions I have accumulated over
the years, along with their associated, overpowering smell. The
local Property Owners Association is threatening to evict me,
and the EPA has given me two weeks to get rid of the stuff or
they will condemn my property. The acquisition of this stuff
took so much money that I am on the brink of bankruptcy. One
good thing however; my wife went home to her mother who looks
and acts a lot like a Catfish (whiskers and all).
One fine day found me in my Catfish boat probing
the depths in my futile quest for a place in the Catfish Hall
of Fame. Lo and behold I came upon an old geezer in an older
rowboat nailing the nicest cats you ever saw. The water around
his boat churned and roiled with giant Catfish in a feeding frenzy.
They were fighting to get at his bait. It was awesome! Didn,t
this dude know that these cats wouldn,t touch anything with a
hook in it? I had to find out what he was using for bait to turn
these fish on.
My trolling motor brought me with in hailing distance.
I was nearly overcome by a powerful odor, which forced me to
back off, and approach from upwind. The source of the obnoxious
odor was his bait, himself, or both. Being out of snuff, I offered
him a cool one from my meager supply of six-packs. After a couple
of six packs I felt he was relaxed enough to tell me what his
bait was. It wasn't; it took another six-pack to loosen his tongue.
He finally relented and informed me, but with a wry smile.
The old man looked around to make sure no one else
was listening and whispered. The stuff was very special stuff,
made in, and imported from the western Oklahoma wilderness. Legend
had it that it was a secret Indian creation handed down from
Sittin, Bull , Geronimo, and Cochise, which they formulated when
they weren't otherwise involved in shooting arrows at one and
other. He further informed me that the stuff was extremely rare,
and that it was like yeast. It grew, but ever so slowly, which
limited the supply resulting in it being high priced. Some of
the ingredients were taken from the south end of a northbound
Army mule, a skunk in heat, and the scalp of a guy named Custer.
The only way to get the stuff was to pick it up
personally in Oklahoma. The stuff was so strong smelling and
volatile that the US Postal Service and other delivery companies
wouldn't touch the stuff even when packaged in hermetically sealed
containers. The smell could not be completely contained. Off
to Oklahoma I went after taking out as second on the house to
finance the mission.
The magic elixir came in a used white lighting
Mason jar that was warm to the touch. It also glowed in the dark
with radioactivity; visual evidence of its potential. The stench
was so powerful that the lid had to be replaced immediately to
prevent passing out or being expelled from the lake. I dipped
a plastic worm in the stuff and cast it in the lake in anxious
anticipation of snagging one of the leviathan monsters. As soon
as the worm hit the water it fizzed and gyrated and a good-sized
Bass ate it. Every time I threw the damn thing in the water I
was rewarded with a good-sized Bass. I could see the big cats
going for it but the Bass kept beating them to it. No matter
where I fished the worm the Bass kept beating the less agile
cats to it.
What to do? I tried using more of the stuff, fishing
faster, fishing slower, and using less of the stuff to the point
of not using any. I caught a ton of Bass but not one of the cats,
no matter what I tried. The stuff did attract the cats, but was
also irresistible to the Bass. Now I know the reason for the
old geezers wry smile. He didn,t tell the whole story. Is there
anyone who knows how to keep the Bass away? I can,t find the
old guy. He's probably on some lake somewhere sharing someone's
six-pack.
Epilog:
I finally gave up on the stuff and took it to the
garage to store it away with the rest of the baits in the garage.
In the act of putting it on the shelf the Mason jar fell to the
floor and broke. The stuff ate a hole in the concrete floor and
disappeared in its ever-increasing depth. The hole kept getting
deeper and deeper. It is now a bottomless pit. This solved the
problem of getting rid of all the other magic stuff I had; I
threw it all in the hole.
The odor disappeared and with it my wife reappeared
along with the mother-in-law. I showed them the hole and invited
the mother-in-law to lean over and take a good look. She ran
screaming, along with my wife. I haven't seen hide nor hair of
them since.
The Atomic Energy Commission is going to use the
hole to dispose of nuclear waste and the Property Owners Association
is off my back. The only thing wrong is I wish my wife would
come back as I'm getting tired of eating at the Road Kill Café.
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