For he who pees with me today will be my brother

I apologize to my loyal reader for not posting, but the Yooj has been in town for these last ten days, which meant that I spent most of my time plunging the toilet.

There really hasn't been much going on worth writing about, unless you count staying at the u-boat last weekend. We fished off the dock, drank beer, and tried to see how bad we could smell after two days.

I think between us we caught about 14 fish, of which I think maybe 5 lived after being hooked, because the mother fuckers were swallowing the hooks. Every time we tried to remove the hook they would start bleeding, so they got to keep the hook. At least the ones that we didn't cut up into bait.

We were to find that this trip's funnies belonged to Yooj.

When fishing from the dock, one must be wary of the trees surrounding the sides, as they will become fisherman Christmas trees with all the tackle hanging from them. Both of us were running two poles- one with a bobber and a worm, and another with an artificial lure, basically just to give us something to do until the next fish swallowed the next hook.

Well, the Yooj casted out hard in what looked like the perfect arc, with that ZZZZZZZZZ! sound the closed-faced reel makes when it pays out at extremely high speed. About a hundred feet out you see the spoon hit the water followed by the kabloop. At this point you normally wait a second or two for the line to land on the water and then set the reel.

Do you know what else eats lures? Overhead power lines.

His perfect arc was now an inverted v with the lure in the lake on one side of the power line, and Yooj on the other. He reeled in a bit, and I told him to get it within about a foot of the line and then yank pretty hard, thinking that it would act the same on a power line that it does on a tree branch. It turns out that I was wrong. His spoon twirled around the line like a fishy Olga Korbut on the parallel bars. It rested at an angle that shown the shiny side toward the dock, so that the part of the lure that was supposed to get the attention of the fish looked like it was winking at us when the sun hit.

While laughing I reached over and cut his line.



"Fire in the Hole!" was the warning that one of us had caught a tree and was getting ready to yank the shit out of the line, so get your ass down because you have no clue where the line's going.

As I was the one normally yelling this, I was surprised to find that Yooj had caught one of the largest hickory trees around and was getting ready to give the line what for. "Seeephew"! I heard the line give and then immediately get caught in the next closest tree. Knowing that the Yooj was now sufficiently angry to do something based solely on the size of his muscles and not his brain, and that in the past this has only accomplished the feat of me being injured somehow, I was was crouched so low that I saw nothing but the wooden dock.

Yooj grunted, pulled ( I know that sounds dirty, but try to stay focused here), and the lure still buzzed my head before hitting the water. I immediately leaned over to get it out of the water before Yoojie got the damn thing stuck in the dock. I pulled on the bobber, raised the line, and THERE WAS A GODDAMN FISH ON THE HOOK THAT WASN'T THERE WHEN THE LINE WAS IN THE TREE. He caught a fish in about 1/32nd of a second. The worst part was that it was the biggest fish we caught that weekend.

On Sunday we went back down on the dock to donate more tackle to the water. After about two hours of the same ole, the Yooj changed lures to a bass lure that has all the shit hanging off of it.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ! This time, you didn't see it hit water. There was no kabloop. Yoojie had inadvertently gone round two with power line and had again come out the loser. Flip,flip,flip, and Olga #2 was line bound. I was laughing so hard that I was heeping watching him chew his line apart.

In the middle of taking breaths I laughingly asked, "Why don't you just throw your fucking tacklebox at the power line?"

Restraining the urge to kill me he said, "That's God telling us we're done."

We packed all of our shit and left the u-boat for home, with our hero mimicking me a few miles down the road; "why don't you throw your tacklebox at the power line? Asshole."