It's My Life • Shawn Hunter

7| Grandma Was A Rolling Star

During the nice warm day, Zoey was currently leaning against the fence, watching Cory and Shawn collect snails from Mr. Feeny's backyard. The brunette smirked as she got to do nothing, meanwhile Mr. Feeny was outside, gardening.

"Hey guys." Mr. Matthews greeted as he approached them. "Mm, collecting snails?"

"Yeah, Mr. Feeny said we could take them of the flowers and use them as bait for when we all go fishing Sunday." Cory explained.

"Fish don't eat snails." Mr. Matthews pointed out.

Mr. Feeny turned to them with a smile. "Gee, I guess I was mistaken."

"Whenever you guys are ready the bass master here is all set to pass on to the younger generation some of the finer points of spin casting." Mr. Matthews said as he grabbed onto a fishing rod.

"Manipulating young and impressionable minds." Cory told Mr. Feeny, crossing his arms over his stomach. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Mr. Feeny."

"Indeed I am, Mr. Matthews." Mr. Feeny said proudly.

Zoey smirked as Shawn and Cory jumped back over the fence. Shawn sat down on the small lounge beside Zoey, while Cory stood beside his father as they all watched Mr. Matthews cast the fishing rod.

"Now, the main thing to remember is that basically it's a simple flick of the wrist." Mr. Matthews explained. "You open the bail... hold the line with your finger and then it's two o'clock, ten o'clock."

While Mr. Matthews was showing them how to cast, suddenly Mr. Feeny's pot behind Mr. Matthews smashed. Zoey covered her mouth her hand, trying not to laugh.

"Kind of a quarter after three o'clock thing you got going on there, Dad, huh?" Cory said, trying not to laugh either.

"May, a, fellow angler try his luck?" Mr. Feeny asked Mr. Matthews, standing opposite the fence.

"Be my guest, George." Mr. Matthews said, passing the fishing rod to him.

Zoey, Shawn, Cory and Mr. Matthews all watched Mr. Feeny practice casting a couple of times before he actually casted and the line landed in a bucket near the back door.

"It's like getting back on a bicycle. One never forgets." Mr. Feeny simply said.

"Mr. Feeny, you fish?" Zoey asked, crossing her leg over the other.

"Oh, sure." Mr. Feeny said with a smile. "I'm an old bass hog from way back. I'll never forget that September morn, 1956. I was after small-mouth bass on the Louisiana Delta."

"Sounds fascinating, George." Mr. Matthews stated, not interested on the story.

Zoey leaned closer to Shawn. "It sounds boring."

"It really does." Shawn said, nodding in agreement.

"Spanish moss hanging down and the cypress knees jutting up through the brackish water of the bayou." Mr. Feeny continued.

"Sounds fascinating, George." Mr. Matthews repeated. Zoey snickered lightly.

"Dad, how come Eric's not coming with us this year?" Cory wondered.

"Well, you're brother's discovered girls. He can't sit still." Mr. Matthews explained. "When you're Eric's age and you can't sit still, I'll take Morgan. It's the endless cycle of fishing."

"And what about after Morgan?" Cory asked.

"Well, then I'll just be some guy in a fishing hat with a lot of boring stories...." Mr. Matthews trailed off as he glanced over to Mr. Feeny. He  breathed heavily and placed a hand to his chest.