950 words from "Royal Roachman"
The morning of the opener dawned windy as radio promised. Bill, as usual,
arrived two hours earlier than instructed. When Joe opened the door at his
knocking, there stood Big Bill in the garb of the ultimate flyfisherman,
looking as though he'd bought and was now wearing every item Orvis had in
their warehouse!
"Mornin', Billy! What is that stench?"
"Stench? What's 'stench'?" Bill questioned with that childish,
puzzled
look which always melted Joe's "tough" heart.
"Okay, Bill, stink, s-t-i-n-k, stink! What is that stink?"
"Oh, that? Probably comin' from where I burned this here vest in the
back while tryin' t'iron on the duct tape."
"Duct tape? For what?"
"Well," Bill said, "I hadda sew two vests together since the catalogs
didn't have 'em in m'size, and not being much of a sewin' man, I kinda had
t'tidy
it all up and cover the stitchin' with duct tape. Daggone stuff don't take
much to ironin', but aside from that, Little Buddy, how's your ol' pardner
lookin'?"
"Fine, Bill, ya look just fine! I could probably put a down payment
on
the Hearst castle with less money than you musta spent on all that stuff!
And how, may I ask, are you ever going to remove all those flies from your
hat, even though I tied all we'll ever need this season?"
"Like that arrangement, do ya? Why, there's four or five dozen of
them
babies pinned in there. Got 'em at the Dollar Department Store for
ninety-nine cents on the dozen. Ol' Billy here is a-ready as a Freddy and
'um gonna knock 'em dead today, Little Buddy!"
"Bill, the smell of that vest alone ought to knock 'em dead! C'mon,
let's
get rolling!"
At the stream: "Okay, Bill, listen up. I'll be upstream from you just
a'ways.
Work those flies deep and strip line to prevent slack, so you'll see or
feel
the strikes. Fish 'em downstream and across like I taught ya and mend your
line when it starts to belly on you, okay? And, Bill, pleeeeeze don't be
dropping that hat into the water or we'll be arrested for chumming! Got
it?"
"Yeah, I got it, Joe, except what do you mean 'mend'? You can see by
this vest I hain't much of a mender!"
"Just fish, Bill, and good luck."
Joe watched Big Bill at every op****tunity. The wind was playing havoc
with the leader and after just a couple of hours, and one morsel of a
rainbow, Joe decided they'd better pack it in for the day.
"Hey, Billy! Let's hang 'er up, Big Buddy," Joe said as he approached
Bill's position downstream. "This wind is a killer! How'd you do?"
Bill smiled that priceless smile of his and answered, "Shoot, Little
Buddy, been done for nigh on fifteen minutes now. Got me eight 'bows
lickety
split! How's 'bout you?"
Joe said, "Just got one rainbow about the size of your little finger,
Bill. That's about it." Joe's eyes watered as he examined Bill's leader,
which had back-to-back knots from butt to tippet. "Bill, look at your
leader, fer cryin' out loud! How'd'ya ever limit out using that thing?
Looks
like some crazed Boy Scout went on a rampage trying to get his knot-tying
merit badge!"
"Why, Joseefus, I had a fine instructor, did I not - get it, knot?"
"Yeah, Billy, I get it. Now I think we'd best head for the Coffee
Palace and call it a mornin', okay?"
As they sat sipping coffee, they reviewed the morning's activities.
"Ya
know, Chubby line chucker, I'm right proud of you!" Joe said, patting
Bill's
mountainous shoulder. "Why, a limit of trout first time flyrodding? That
is
great! Tell me, Billy, what pattern were you using all morning?"
"I think," Bill said, removing his fly-filled hat and scratching his
head, "it was a Royal Roachman, Joe. I h'ain't real sure now, since the
daggone fly is still in that last trout I landed. I'll find it when I
clean
'em up later an' let ya know."
"Bill," Joe said, giggling, "read my lips. Say, Royal Coachman."
As the pair were ready to leave the Palace, Joe reached into his
pocket
and came to realize he'd forgotten his wallet. "Doggone it, Billy, I was
gonna pick up the tab, but it appears I left my wallet at home. Got any
cash
with you?"
"Sure I do, Tiny Tightwad, sure do!" Bill reached into the depths of
his sewn-together vests and pulled forth a handful of change. A rather
muddied tin fell to the floor, which caused the lip to jar open. Out onto
the linoleum floor spilled a huge gob of tangled, very juicy-looking and
lively red worms! Joe, in total disbelief, eyed the red worms as though
they
were toxic waste, then looked sternly into Bill's squinting, guilt-ridden
blue eyes.
"Think it was a Royal Roachman, huh, Big Boy?"
Bill, near frantic from fear of being strongly reprimanded, said,
"Listen, Joe. I lost ever' fly you gave me, in that big old tree behind me
this mornin', and I couldn't free the ones stuck in m'hat. Why, that wind
was horrendous, and I couldn't get my flyline to do anything right! I just
hadta use the worms so you wouldn't think all those lessons ya gave me
were
for nuttin'. I wanted t'make ya proud of old Billy, so I tied on a snelled
number eight and fished my worms. Caught 'em all on the flyrod, though.
Please don't be ticked with me, Little Buddy, I was just tryin' to make ya
proud of the way ya taught me to handle the flyrod, is all!"
This book is available at From My Shelf Books in Wellsboro PA
www.wellsborobookstore.com Amazon and Barnes and Noble online.
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