𝑬𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝑴í𝒂 | ᴮᵒʸ ᴹᵉᵉᵗˢ ᵂᵒʳˡᵈ

7: Fishing for Fun

Shawn, Cory, and I were on Mr. Feeny's side of the fence collecting snails. Well, Shawn and Cory were. I was holding the bag open as best as I could with my broken arm.

Shawn would dangle a snail in my face now and then just to disgust me. I didn't know why we were doing this, but I went along with it anyway. Mr. Feeny was tending to his garden behind us. Mr. Matthews came outside.

"Hey guys." Mr. Matthews said as he walked over to us. "Mmm. Collecting snails?" He asked.

"Yeah, Mr. Feeny said we can take 'em off the flowers and use them for bait for we all go fishing Sunday." Cory told Mr. Matthews. Aren't we supposed to use worms and not snails? "Fish don't eat snails." Mr. Matthews said as he looked at Mr. Feeny. I knew it. Mr. Feeny gave an awkward smile.

"Gee. I guess I was mistaken." Mr. Feeny said, then kept tending to his garden. "Well, 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. "Manipulating young and impressionable minds." Cory told Mr. Feeny. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Mr. Feeny." "Indeed, I am, Mr. Matthews." Mr. Feeny replied. "Come on, guys." Mr. Matthews said as we hopped back over the fence.

"Now, the main thing to remember is that basically it's a simple flick of the wrist." Mr. Matthews told us. "You open the bail, hold the line with your finger, and then it's 2:00, 10:00." He said as he moved the fishing pole up and down. When he said "2:00" something in Mr. Feeny's yard crashed down. "Kind of a quarter after 3:00 thing you got going on there, dad, huh?" Cory humored him. Mr. Feeny came over.

"May a, uh fellow angler try his luck?" Mr. Feeny asked. "Be my guest, George." Mr. Matthews handed the fishing pole to Mr. Feeny. Whatever, Mr. Matthews was trying to accomplish, and failed Mr. Feeny succeeded and made the hook go into the bucket. "It's like getting back on a bicycle." Mr. Feeny said. "One never forgets." Mr. Feeny handed Mr. Matthews the fishing pole back.

"Mr. Feeny, you fish?" Cory asked. "Oh, sure I'm an old bass hog from way back." Mr. Feeny took off his gardening gloves. "I'll never forget that September morn, 1956." Mr. Feeny began his story. "I was after small-mouth bass on the Louisiana Delta." Mr. Matthews spoke.

"That's fascinating, George." Mr. Feeny continued his story. "Spanish moss hanging down, and the cypress knees jutting up through the brackish water of the bayou." "That's fascinating, George." Mr. Matthews repeated. "Dad, how come Eric's not coming with us this year?" Cory asked.

"Well, your brother's discovered girls. He can't sit still. When you're Eric's age and you can't sit still, I'll take Morgan. It's the endless cycle of fishing." Mr. Matthews said. "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 looked at Mr. Feeny. "Did you just scare yourself, dad?" Cory asked. "Whoa, yes, I think I did."

I didn't go fishing for two reasons. My broken arm and because I don't like fishing. It's peaceful until you catch a fish and have to touch the sliminess of it.

I wish I could have a family like Cory's. They're all happy. Mr. Matthews isn't like my father. Mrs. Matthews is the mother I've always wanted. Morgan and Eric are the siblings I'd love to have. Shawn's mom gives me the motherly love I've always needed.