Something Fishy

His feet were dangling off the edge of the boat and his reflection was staring back up at him. 

“I’m having a tough time imagining a fish growing legs and walking out of the water,” he said, slowly reeling in his line. “We’ve caught a lot of fish, haven’t we? I mean, through the years we have. Never once have I caught a fish and thought it was possible it could’ve evolved to walk. Water is all a fish knows, you know?”

“Shhh! You’ll scare the fish!” his brother hissed without moving. Clearly he was deep in concentration, his pole in his hands, his brow furrowed, sweat dripping off his forehead; it looked like he had to take a shit to Kevin, who smirked as he watched his younger brother. 

“Are we really supposed to believe we evolved from fish?”

“That’s the theory.”

“Eh, I don’t buy it.”

“I’m sure they’ve run experiments.”

“Have they?”

“Probably.”

“You can’t train a fish to sprout legs. And I doubt you could train a fish to come out of water. It’s a theory that doesn’t seem replicable.”

His brother, Robert, finally shot him a look. “Are you a scientist?”

“I am a language scientist. I experiment with words through denial and error.”

“You’re a comedian, that’s what you a—ahhhh! Shit! I got a bite! Damn! He hit it hard, too.”

“I wonder if he was the one who was supposedly growing legs? What if we catch and eat a fish who was just about ready to crawl out of this lake?”

Robert sighed, “Give it a rest, will ya? Maybe we try some silence for a few minutes?”

“Roger,” Kevin said, saluting him. 

They sat there in silence, lines in the water, the sun beating down on their heads, slowly reeling in the imitation worm that had a hook through its rubber body. Sometimes Robert would jiggle and slowly jerk on his pole, attempting to make the imitation worm look like a real one to the fish. 

“I don’t know how you can fish with a book in your hand,” Robert finally said, breaking the still silence. 

“It’s Hemingway. He’s fun to read while fishing. They just killed Miss Mary’s Lion. Besides, both the fish I caught yesterday hit while I was reading.”

“Who’s Miss Mary and why is she hunting a lion?”

“I think she is Ernest’s third or fourth wife. And I think it’s symbolic,” Kevin said with a shrug.

“Symbolic of what?”

“I think one of his other wives? I don’t know man, Ernest is fun but I’m not so sure he’s good for me. I’ve been trying really hard to hate him, which shouldn’t be hard at all.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because reading him makes me want to hunt, fish, drink and fuck Ruby. But she isn’t here, and I can’t use this worm in my pants to fish, although, he might have better luck than—Bite! Bite! I got him! Oh shit! He feels big!”

“Keep the line tight! And let him fight!”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

“Don’t get the line wrapped around the tree!”

“He’s diving deep!”

“Keep it tight!”

“Steer the boat! Drop the anchor!”

“There is no anchor!”

“Shit!”

“You got it!”

“My book! Grab my book!”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the water!”

“Shit!”

“Shit! Use the net!”

“On the fish or the book?”

“On the book, of course!” 

“Got it!”

“Ha! And I got this fucker! Look at him! He might be a record breaker! He’s huge!”

“Nice! Here’s the scale. And here’s your book.”

“Nice save. Man, look at this thing. Holy shit. What a fighter. He really fought. Let’s see . . .” he hooked the fish by the gills, weighing it. “5 pounds, 10 ounces. Golly, that’s the best bass I’ve ever caught . . . No way this guy would grow legs, dude. No way. No friggin way.”

“Let it go, man.”

“Get a picture.”

“Sure.”

“You know what I think?”

“What’s that?”

“I think there is something fishy about that theory.”

Robert rolled his eyes and tossed out his own line again. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Yikes. Tough crowd. Let’s get you a fish, pal. And let’s get me another beer.” He cracked open another beer and cracked open True At First Light. “Water is all a fish can know.”

CH 8/15/26