I was driving to the Island when I spotted an old high school buddy at the boat ramp on Highway 48 better known among la raza as El Puente de los Lobos.
"What do you have there, bro?"
"A plump female snook."
Recalling the good ol' days, nobody specialized in plump females quite like he did. He once explained: "I'll throw a skinny gal back into the shifting tides and let her swim away without thinking twice. I like to feel my hook in a broad who jumps as I pull her in with my line."
"Were you using live bait or did you take the artificial route as aging anglers like yourself are prone to do?"
"I snagged her with my red-tail hawk lure."
"Again! Is that goddamn red-tail hawk of yours an aphrodisiac that the females can't resist?"
"Once they're lured by my red-tail hawk, they don't quit squirming."
"Can you purchase one of those lures across the border?"
"You can purchase anything across the border."
"I thought you were working the barrios for your distinguished candidate to improve voter turnout in the runoff."
"When the females are finding my red-tail hawk irresistible, I have to take a few hours off from pounding the pavement in order to wade into the waters. I'm sure he can appreciate that I can't help but succumb to temptation when the females are biting."
I can certainly sympathize. There is something about the smell of fresh fish that can drive a man crazy.
No comments:
Post a Comment