Ricky Rea: An ode to the rock bass

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Editor’s note: The following short story was submitted by Ricky Rea, of Chanute.

 

Just another day, in my solitude, on the water. Not a fancy boat, but alas, enough for the job at hand. The elusive rock bass I just can’t get to the boat. This rock bass has cost me money, many sleepless nights, no matter what size it is. I have turmoil in my stomach, I have a headache that never goes away.

The next day as I arrive at the bait shop, my trusted friend smiles, “Did you catch it finally?” I smirk like he ever won that fight. He sells bait, doesn’t fish much. I declare I will catch the elusive rock bass.

It pulls my boat as I fight it, it has no gumption to move from its spot. Lazy rock bass, wonder how it survives, I just can’t understand why it is the only thing I can’t catch, does it hate me personally? Well, not really, haven’t got one in the boat yet, so that I can’t say, maybe it is not the same rock bass, sigh.

I change spots and it follows me. How, why? Is it because it knows I probably came from the sucker family? Ha, right, no rock bass is that smart, or are they? Another hot, sunny day and I am defeated again, why torture myself? It is uncatchable, I even went to another lake and it follows me. I must get to the bottom of this, so I put the pole into the holder, and I dive in.

Oh man, it is not a fish, it’s a rock, a slimy rock, a snag I guess people call it. Nobody told me about such things, but I catch fewer of them now.

But I’m onto them now, I catch fish now, no rock bass, no, not for me.

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