True Fishing Story

I had heard Hunky Z had bought a boat so I knew exactly what Hunky was going to say when Sonja handed me the phone, "Let's go fishing Whitey!"

On Saturday morning I was drinking coffee and looking out the front window when Hunky's truck pulled up with an old wooden 12' fish boat behind it on a trailer. A boat is a boat.

As we packed my gear into the back of the truck I asked, "So where'd you get the boat?"

"Not much of a boat is it?" Hunky answered back. "Somebody owed me money and this is all I could get out of him." He drew my attention to an assortment of nearly new fishing gear so inclusive you could open up a fishing store in 69 Mile House. "We're going to empty the lake today, motherfucker."

We headed out onto the still lake and were catching trout before long. The powerful electric motor moved us over the glacial water with ease and we soon found ourself at the far end of the lake searching for big ones. The lake's far end is popular with boaters who like to get shitfaced and lay about on the beach naked, away from the park narcs. We scoured the beach with our binoculars. Several naked women big enough to kick the snot out of roller derby queen Suzy Shameless were cavorting on the yellow sand.

That was when the wind picked up and we decided to turn back to where we had put the boat in the water. We had made it about a quarter of the way back when the electric motor died. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" cursed Hunky, "It's a brand new motor."

Too bad the battery was not new too. We put the oars in the water and tried to get back to the truck that way but we were too drunk to get anywhere. Eventually we made it to the shore, tied up the boat and climbed the steep bank to the logging road that runs down one side of the lake. We were going to have to hike back to the truck and come back for the boat. We loaded up our packs with the beer we had left and set off.

We had not gone far when a 4x4 drove by filled up with two big women and their even bigger men. "Say aren't you the two pervert motherfuckers we seen eyeing us up with binoculars from out on the lake?"

The truckload of fat laughed uproariously at our misfortune before they told us to, "Jump in the back of the truck motherfuckers. And hold on tight." People in the backwoods of Dope City are as friendly as you will find anywhere, until the sun goes down.