|Fish. Fear. Us. - Toby and Coop|
I was hoping to be around the boy on a regular basis as he grew up, but that seems to be out of the question, at least for a while. I know that I'll still be able to take him fishin' on occasion and that's all that matters. Still, I am a selfish bastard and I wanted to spend time with the lad whenever Mom and Dad said it was cool. Now they'll be about 60 miles away and it won't be as easy to go pick him up and head to the lake as it would have been were Coop and his parents weren't moving. But! Over the years, I have learned a hundred different ways to make lemonade out of lemons, and the time I get to spend fishin' with Coop will be that much more precious and valuable. We'll just make our time together "fishing intensive". I mean, hell, there ain't a guy up here that I know that knows how to Texas rig a plastic worm. That's certainly no way for a kid to go through life, is it? Coop will also need to know how to work a buzz bait around a grass line and how to make a 3-inch plastic jig dance like Nureyev. And how about pitching a 4-inch plastic worm onto a lilly pad and twitching the end of your fishing rod just enough to make the lily pad quiver, but leaving the worm on the lily pad until just the right instant before easing it over the edge of the lily pad and letting float slowly towards the bottom where it will surely look like a Golden Corral Lunch Buffet to Mr. Bass or Mr. Trout. These are techniques that I have spent over 50 years perfecting. Fish. Fear. Me. And soon enough, no matter where he lives, fish will fear Coop, also. I'll make sure of it.
Yep. Me and Coop. We be mates. And that's a good thing. For both of us.
Because Toby said so.