"It's a morning lake," the oldtimer told me and he was right. It was early afternoon and the oldtimer and his buddy were already hard at work on their beer supply. The old timer only had one arm. His buddy was a quiet fucker. I do not like quiet fuckers and I hate morning lakes even more.
It was a morning lake because high winds blew over the lake each day, beginning in the late morning. I looked at the lake in the morning when I let the Hammer out around dawn. It looked like it might be nice to go fishing out there in the shadowy pink mist. Then I went back to bed, where a man needs to spend as much time as he can.
The only man I have ever known to like a morning lake was my dad. He used to wake my brother Axel and I at 3:30 so we would be sure to be fishing at first light. As my dad splattered fried eggs on the campstove frying pan one early morning before fishing, my brother whispered to me once, "He wakes us up this fucking early to fucking torture us. The fuck." My dad heard him say it over the sound of the greasy egg splatter and admonished Axel, "The only thing I'm fucking torturing you with is the pain in the fucking gut you're going to get after you get these eggs and beans in your gut. What do you know about fucking torture? You think I'm Hitler. You think I'm fucking Hitler don't you? Do you think I'm Hitler too Beer?"
Even Hitler would not go fishing at 3:30 in the morning. I hated it when I got dragged into my brother's shit. If Newfoundland had a Hitler who liked to get up at 3:30 in the morning to go fishing it would be my dad. Beer Uber Alles. "I think Axel means Hitler when he was still winning the war. It is kind of fucking early though. Why don't you take Kitty and Sal out fishing tomorrow morning?"
My dad figured he spawned a couple of the dumbest, laziest motherfuckers ever. "Women don't fish! Men fish! And we're pigs and firemen and soldiers and lots things that women will never do. The day your sisters fucking fish will be the day a lesbo has her own daytime talk show on tv. Fuck. Women don't fucking fish and they get to sleep in. Don't blame me. God made the fucking rules, I just enforce them."
My dad thought all lakes were morning lakes but none of them were or else we might have caught something besides fuck all on all those early mornings on the legendary lakes of Canada. I am looking for a good afternoon lake, a lake that is kind to drinkers.
1 comment:
My father, who was a shitty fisherman, liked to get me up in the middle of the night to go fishing. We never caught anything. Our fishing adventures occasionally took place in beautiful upstate New York, but mostly we were fishing in stinking polluted ponds in New Jersey. At least he wasn't making me play golf.
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