Sonja does not like eating fish. "They stink," she tells me, "and they have a mom who misses them after you have bashed them over the head with your fish beating stick."
Because Sonja does not like fish I prefer lakes with lots of fish under two pounds. I can eat those fish all by myself. The ones closer to two pounds than one I can make a sandwich of the leftovers. You would think I might catch a big fish by accident but I never have. My personal best is about three pounds.
A guy, probably divorced, I never asked, and his kids were camped by us for a few nights. They had a real nice 4x4 with a boat and they went off every day fishing different lakes. The fish in the lake where we were at were too small for my three nimrod neighbours.
One day they came back from their fishing excursion just as I was going into the crapper to listen to some good country western swing and enjoy some aroma therapy. The dad came in the door just as I was dropping my pants.
"Fuck!" he said to his sons, "He's in there taking a beer shit. He's going to want to see this before we freeze it!"
I pulled up my pants before things started to move to see what they had to show me. One of his boys was holding a rainbow half as long as he was. "Six and a half pounds!" It was a fucking beauty. Some motherfuckers have all the luck.
I went back inside the crapper. It sounded and smelled good in there but not for long. Six and a half pounds of shit.