Tell me your fish story

[cowherder]

Wow that's pretty nasty. Good thing that guy knew what to do. I wouldn't. Thanks for sharing.

[ledhead36]

That's a great story, never saw anything like it.

[DarkSkies]

I'm posting this for Madcaster:

Old timers ……I moved here in 1999 from the SF bay area. I have been fishing since I was a kid. Now I only live 3 miles from the bay in Keyport, so spring of 2000 I unpack the surf rod (which I found in a junk yard in Calif.) and slap on the old Dam quick 550 my father handed down to me. I drive down to the Grocery store where they sell bait. Pick up some bunker, which I never seen before. So I head down to the bay and rig up some bunker chunks and cast it out. This was early March when the bay is full of blue fish and I don’t know what blue fish are .(there are no bluefish on the west coast) I was the only one fishing in this spot and there was an old guy sitting in a station wagon next to me. Two minutes later my pole is bent over and I picked up the pole and set the hook and the line breaks. So I bring it in and the hook is bit off. So I pull out another hook (that as mono leader on it) cast out and 1 min later …same thing happens. I can figure out what’s going on. As I start setting up again, the old timer in the station wagon gets out and slowly walks towards me. He reaches out his hand and hands me a hook with a wire leader on. He says son you’re going to need this. So he tells me there blue fish and they have sharp teeth and to be careful when you try to unhook one. So I thank him for the hook and he turned and walked away as quietly as he came. I tied it up and then hooked into one …the fight was on and I landed it and I was hooked on blues fishing . Landed four more after that.
That old timer saved the day for me.

[BassBuddah]

surferman originally posted this.




Years ago, I was introducing one of the Shoal N Reef guides to the difference between fishing and catching. Art of the possible Aikin and I found ourselves on my boat and out on the Chesapeake Bay. In those days I kept a 26 Bertram at the Breezy Point Marina on the western shore just south of Chesapeake Beach.


It was a late summer, early evening as I remember it. We left the dock around four in the afternoon and headed south to the mouth of Parker’s Creek. As neared the channel that the creek had dug in the muddy bottom, I noticed a large area of riffled water just south of the channel. As we drifted into it my fathometer began to show solid black from just below the surface right down to the bottom. We had stumbled onto a huge school of bluefish.


The wind was light and onshore so I decided to do a series of drifts from the deep water towards the shore. I circled around and got the boat in position. The bucket of razor clams that I had picked up in Chesapeake Beach looked to be exactly the right bait to use. So I put the bait table on the gunwale and set out a few clams.

Now, I’ve got to say in his defense that this one of the very first fishing trips that Possible had ever been on and, as a senior scientist at NASA, nothing in his professional life had prepared him for what was about to happen.

The routine was simple you baited the hook cast it into the water waited a second or two then reeled in another one they were that think. By the time we starter the first drift, the bluefish were chopping up the surface driving the baitfish up and then charging through the schools. The breeze had dropped to almost nothing and the boat drifted gently towards the shore. The sun was heading towards the western horizon and life was very good. I set to work hauling in my share.

In a break between fish I became aware that Art was muttering something about how inconsiderate that kind of thing was. Darn things at least you could wait! I looked over and noticed that he had not boated a single fish I had half a dozen nice ones in the fish box on my side of the boat. So I decided to watch for a bit and see if I could. This is what I saw:

Art would start with a clean hook - bait it with a nice piece of clam. And then, being a fastidious type, he would place the rod in the holder and turn back to bucket of water I had placed in the middle of the cockpit and wash his hands. By the time he got back to the rod, the bluefish had cleaned the hook and the process started all over again. You see he had enough line out so that the hook was in the water.

I looked down in the water just aft of the transom and saw a bunch of bluefish lined up waiting to be fed!

What was funniest was Possible’s reaction to the discovery of the bare hook. You darn fish could at least wait until I was ready! That is very inconsiderate! I watched this cycle a couple or times. The fish got fed and Art was getting madder and madder at them. Finally I just had to make a suggestion.

Art, when you put your rod in the holder, crank in a little line and keep the bait out of the water until you are ready.

So here he goes baits the hook puts the rod in the holder cranks the reel until it is just above the surface and turns back to wash his hands. As he did we heard this splashing turned to see the bluefish coming out of the water and a clean hook dangling at the end of the line. We both broke out in a fit of laughing.

Well that was many years ago and Art is now a fine, battle tested fisherman - but, every once in a while, I still remind him about talking to the bluefish.

ShoalnReef.com

[CharlieTuna]

^^BB, washing your hands while fishing must be bad luck. See what happened to that guy? Nice story, thanks for sharing.

[CharlieTuna]

This is a story from Stripermike's site, www.stripermike.com
Great story!


I absolutely love September. The weather is super ...the tourists thin way out..the fishing, with pre migration, is as good as it gets. I hope September was good to you. If you have not heard by now.......it was incredible for me. Not simply the array of 38-40 inch stripers that I landed, but also..... The Humarock Surf Tuna, that was the thrill of my surf casting lifetime. Not long before this odd angling saga, I was out at H buoy and the schools of blue fin tuna were everywhere. Beautiful ocean missiles sailing right out of the water and feeding on peanut bunker.....and only 7 miles from the land! Tuna can swim 50 mph...combine that with a stiff north east wind for two days and the fact that the shoreline is also full of peanut bunker, while cloaking all of this with the darkness of 430 am on Sept 26th.....and you can see how my good fortune had some theory behind it. Stop and think about yourself or your buddies, etc., that live in the South shore area ...so close to the tuna...have their spool offs always been 50 lbers??..........Makes you wonder doesn't it. And soon after my catch some guy brought one to the sand from Scusset beach.....or so I heard.

Speaking of the "so I heard " bit. I learned a lesson about people......jealousy ..and why such character defects are so disdained by the human race. The editor of the news paper that wrote this story called me after it was printed. He said that some one had called and said that perhaps I did not catch the fish. He told me that he wanted to hear my voice and its honesty so that he could be assured that the voice he heard call the paper was just, as he put it" a typical case of sour grapes that we see all the time from happy stories". I was told that it is human nature for some people to be angry ..and jealous...and have incorrect perceptions of occurrences in others lives. The joy of these moments is the fact that we humans can communicate....and that if there were confusion about this wonderful moment in local angling, the rumor mongers could have asked the person involved........ME. But unfortunately that rarely occurs and a percentage of sour grape people warp and twist the truth to dampen the joy of those involved and those that are happy for the people involved. This canker sore of the human race has been so predictable and disruptive to society, that one of the 10 commandment's pleads with mankind ..."THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS AGAINST THY NEIGHBOR".....please note that is included with ...killing...stealing...adultery... etc....it has represented a similar level of social and moral deviance....or in modern terms..a loser!

Now with all that aside....and my assurance that.....I did not wade out into the 3 foot surf at 430 am and find a blue fin tuna just floating around out there.......or did I find one on the beach that just happened to have the cut under its pectoral fin where I bled it out....and off course after weathering the surf all night...the meat was fine!. I have been affiliated with Humarock beach for over 20 years.....I cant recall any tuna being.....washed up....perfectly intact, still bleeding. By the way it was easy for me to bring the found??? tuna home....it just happened to be near my house!!! Well, with no further need for tongue in cheek comments....I present to all of you that are happy for me and the sport of surfcasting, the thrills that I went through.........and so...

CULMINATION

Surfcasting is not that difficult most of the time. Getting there to do it can be the hard part. This was one of those days when 4 hrs sleep and the alarm at 230 am were causing me to pull the covers back over my head. Its the fall run Mike. you have to get up...you live for this stuff. By 245 I was on the beach. Living so close is a blessing.

It smelled raucous. There was an east wind...and sizable surf. To add to it all the new moon, made life on the beach at 245 am.... ebony. The crabs were the only bites and one lousy taster choice half warm coffee didn't make it......my eyes were drooping. It wasn't even 400 yet and I was weakening. I must be getting old. I rebaited with a hefty piece of Belsans special mackerel...hurled it out past the three sets of breakers and it found the calmer water beyond the foam. I put the rod in the holder...set up the chair right next to it...plopped down, with my hood up and finger on the wide-open drag and line ....I settled in. That's called taking a nap!!.

I normally am not long winded about the actual fight with a fish...those are the private memories for me to keep. But in this case...you are going to get the blow by blow description.

The strike was explosive.........and so was my reaction to it. I was out of the chair..rod in hand..lowered the tip and buried the hook...within 2 seconds. In a natural motion that I am so familiar with in the dark, I cranked the drag clockwise to a familiar position. I would guess around 10-15 lbs of drag. The fish never even flinched. Never even turned...Never even faltered... It just went out at breath taking speed. If it had been light I think that watching the line disperse so quickly would have caused me to over react. It was better that this chaos be given to me in the dark...And so...what I dreamed of seemed to be occurring. A fifty pound striper at long last. I prayed it would not spool me. I held the van staal up to the flicker of brightness from a distant street light check how much line was left. I swear I was starting to see the white Dacron backing at the end of the spool. And on a van staal reel, that is 350 yds of 20 LB test. I was tempted to play with the drag.....or palm the spool a tad in order to weather this first run....but I had discipline. I held my 11footer high and arched and made this huge striper battle the rod and reel as it fled.
It slowed down....I still had line....I had survived it to this point. When I leaned alittle into the rod, the huge fish turned and sauntered down from me for about 50 yds as I followed along from the terra firma. It must have headed in a bit too, because I gathered up some line that it gave back, while never letting any pressure off it. The whole time I repeated the mantra in my head..Pay attention..stay calm.....pay attention...stay calm...

Just when I felt like the fight would be a give and take, it roared toward England again....with the same vigor that I felt would spool me off the first. So this is what its like I thought..My god this is some enormous quarry. My confidence wavered as the spool of line melted away again. But as before. I survived it! It spun to the right and simply tugged and darted about like an enormous schoolie. I have no idea the time span that this went on for...gain a small amount of line .....she would peel it off and more, every time. I didn't need a watch to tell me my right arm was nearly asleep from no blood flow as I refused to take the arch of the rod. She would have to get off on her own...IM not going to give it to her.

After a number of nearly being spooled by this fish and the fact that it seemed to dart more than a striper.....it didn't have that traditional throbbing that a big cow will give you during the standoff. It seemed to frisky ! Could it be a huge bluefish or a shark that just isn't going through my 50 LB leader????..I stopped that kind of thinking. Pay Attention and stay calm...I went back to that mantra.

Even though I could only put 10-15 LB of drag on the fish...nonetheless my back and stomach and arm were really feeling the effect of all this. I vacillated between numb and agony. The sweat poured down my face and into my eyes...and the burning came next. The waders were way to much to wear at this point and I could feel the sweat pooling up inside them, not to mention that they made me about 110 degrees. If I gave in I knew this fish would get off. Its to big and to old...it knows more than me or any of the anglers it has faced to date. If I made a mistake..she was gone. Let me tell you, after an hour or more, confidence wanes and pain can make a loser out of anyone. God I wanted to win. I kept it arched. I kept it tight.. I made the fish fight...If I was gonna hurt..it was going to also. So it went on.

Up until the fish came into the white water, about 3 waves worth, it was shear power. Frightening power. The power I had heard about from guys that landed 50 lbers from the beach. This was it...this was the striper of my life. We all know that when a striper gets into the surf ...it becomes recharged from the oxygen in the foamy water and that is where we all lose the big cows. Now there was a hint of light and I would need it to get this monster to give up now that it was in its real realm of fighting environment.....the surf! The stars must have been aligned. The fish struggled, not from the fight...but from the surf. It began to weave and roll...but without the force and determination of a skinny water cow. It was a mass of bobbing weight. When it hit the bottom I expected to get rubbed off...but it seemed to bounce on the bottom of the wave and give me varied moments of extreme weight and then a return to buoyancy. I refused to think about it..............Pay attention and stay calm......I kept repeating it.

When I could tell that the fish was close it had seemed to...........are you ready for this??????.............DIE.?!? When it was in approx. 18 inches of remaining surf I saw its pectoral fin stick in the air as it lay on its side..............A TUNA!!!!! I threw my van staal in to the sand and ran into the water. Literally diving on the fish. I grabbed it by the gill plate and dragged it to where it was mine....where there was no water.......to land! I looked at was before me and panted like the days of running in marathons. I had caught a tuna from the surf.!!!!! When I attempted to clear my throat, it was all my body needed to set me into a bout of dry heaves from the over dose of adrenaline. It was a tuna.!!!!......it was a CULMINATION of surf casting hope and fury.........it was a tuna.!!!!

I sat there for maybe 10 minutes....it was not fully light yet and I needed a picture etc. Having gotten tuna from boats before, I realized that I had to bleed it out ......so with no true light from the sun, I saw the ocean tint alter as thisgreat fishes nectar of life oozed into the Atlantic......the cut below the pectoral is ceremonial..........and final.
Pec-cut on a 200lb BLUEFIN.

The war had taken me about 300 yds from where I started and now I dragged this miracle catch up to safe beach height and covered it with sea weed. I would run home ...get my wife and my buddy Chris for pictures and help...So as the sun rose....I ran!

I tossed my rods and gear into the sand dune grass...my waders were stripped off at the door...bathing suit on and camera grabbed....woke up Susan and called Chris. I grabbed the dog to come to the beach. His franticness added to it all and he was promptly returned. I would tell him a bout it all later.
Upon returning to the fish, The normal array of beach walkers were striding and some of my friends strided toward myself and the fish. Realizing that a permit might be an issue being a blue fin tuna and all. I hemmed and hawed about the fish and this and that, while anxiously awaiting Chris and Susan. The gulls had picked its eye already and the meat is far to precious to let it get tainted or warm. None of the on lookers were surfcasters..in fact I believe none of them are even fisherman. A long winded expose on my exploits two hours ago would be something none of them could relate to.. .....So with everyone wondering why I was doing what and where., I dragged it off toward the house....God this heavy!!. Still no help and when I saw another local acquaintance strolling down the beach I took this opportunity to have a photo. Got a second????....Sure what's up?....Can you take a picture of this fish I got?..of course....HOLY COW!! ....was all he said....the shutter clicked.....and the drag home continued.

I called Pete Belsan .. a renowned tackle shop owner and friend, to tell him of my feat and my anxiousness about the possibility of a permit being an issue. It was the right move. Pete connected me right to the top of the legal chain. Brad McHale , He allowed a variance for that fish due to its very unusual nature. He was moved by the fact that my first action upon quartering the tuna , was to donate a quarter of it to a Group Home....give away another quarter to neighbors and friends, while putting an ear to ear smile on Susan's face as I put the steaks, from the remainder, in our freezer...and that night, on the grill!

All my years of new knots...new line...new hooks...the best rods and reels...fresh bait...top grade terminal equipment etc...all was worth it....I think releasing so many big bass in my life also built up, as an old hippy would say...good Karma...Only in terms of allowing me the chance to fight this remarkable fish. Being the winner of the fight was the CULMINATION of a surfcasting life. I have fought tuna off of boats and in my opinion, they are the ultimate rod and reel fish......and with deep water to sound in and open ocean to work with, they can turn any angler into a quitter..they fight that hard!!....But this time he was in my environment. the surf....He could not sound here .There was no deep water!..he could not stay righted in the water due to the pull of the surf....He struggled to maintain his normal purposeful swimming....He was in my world....and he lost!.
...............FISHING IS THE SPORT OF HOPE.........Pursue hope.....Striper Mike
........See below......Tommys hope was almost on the beach!!!!

[DarkSkies]

I'm posting this embarassing story of mine to remind the members out there that I'll give away a plug each month to the best story posted, if you were there when it happened.

So if I can laugh at myself, so can you!

Post up, it doesn't have to be a trophy story. All it has to do is be entertaining. Give it a try, what do you have to lose...



Don't count your chickens before they hatch!
(My Dad tried to teach me this lesson, sometimes I need to re-think it)
I was next at bat, and hooked what I thought was a nice bass. After you catch enough fish you learn to recognize the unmistakable head shake of a bluefish and up and down antics vs the strong steady deep pull of a nice bass. I couldn't turn my fish for a few minutes as it pulled steady drag and I only gained inches at a time. Then it would sit there as it got strength for another run.

I was thinking I had a nice bass in the mid 20's, a good photo op C&R to make Finchaser proud.

I can usually bring any fish in within a few minutes, this one I fought for 10. When I finally see the fish I see that the bucktail was impaled in its back, like it was a giant bunker. Only instead of a decent bass it was a foul hooked bluefish. If only some thresher sharks were around we would have had some fun!

The night continued to produce some nice blues up to 10#. Then Yardville hooked into a nicer fish and ended up beaching a 32" bass, around 14.

OFFC smokes the youngsters, I tell ya!

Action gradually died down as slack tide approached. By then we had all caught a few nicer blues, and lost some unknown fish after some nice runs. And Yardville had the hot hand with the only bass landed.

We all had a blast, I'm happy we got the chance.

[Shaky]

Spring of 1987 saw us setting our gear off the coast of Florida for swordfish. We were hauling back our third set if I remember correctly and we were having a pretty decent trip. Had about three thousand pounds in the hole for the first two sets and the third looked promising as well.

Captain was bringing in a live fish and Jay, the butcher, was waiting with the gaff. He gaffed the fish cleanly and I reached over the side and stuck the meat hook in the eye socket and gained control of the fish by grabbing his bill with my left hand. Looked to be a nice fat double.

We started hauling the fish over the side when we got broadsided by a good sized wave. The boat shook and heeled over. I lost my footing and as i started to head over the railing i let go of the fish’s bill and grabbed for the railing to keep myself from going over the side.

I had a handle on the fish as the meat hook was still stuck in his eye and in hindsight this was a huge mistake. What happened next took only a split second, but seemed like an eternity, as i grabbed the railing the fish thrashed and caught me in the belly slashing upwards. I pushed myself away and I let go of the meat hook. I looked down only to see a huge gash in my belly.

I grabbed my insides and hit the deck, the rest is a blur as I went into shock. Jay put out a mayday over the radio and John the skipper, an ex Viet Nam combat vet and medic tended to my wound. Lucky for me John was a universal blood donor and he set up make shift IV as I was losing a lot of blood. Doctors say he probably saved my life.

I was airlifted of the boat and hospitalized for a few weeks as a result of infection, nasty critters those swordfish are and the injury put an abrupt end to my longlining. I try to forget about it but the scar is a constant reminder of the dangers at sea.

[DarkSkies]

I had a handle on the fish as the meat hook was still stuck in his eye and in hindsight this was a huge mistake. What happened next took only a split second, but seemed like an eternity, as i grabbed the railing the fish thrashed and caught me in the belly slashing upwards. I pushed myself away and I let go of the meat hook. I looked down only to see a huge gash in my belly.

I grabbed my insides and hit the deck, the rest is a blur as I went into shock. Jay put out a mayday over the radio and John the skipper, an ex Viet Nam combat vet and medic tended to my wound. Lucky for me John was a universal blood donor and he set up make shift IV as I was losing a lot of blood. Doctors say he probably saved my life.

I was airlifted of the boat and hospitalized for a few weeks as a result of infection, nasty critters those swordfish are and the injury put an abrupt end to my longlining. I try to forget about it but the scar is a constant reminder of the dangers at sea.

Shaky that's an incredible story, it was an amazing read. You're lucky to be here. That scar is a gruesome reminder of what you went through. I'm glad ya made it, you're damn tough!

[rip316]

Yes sir, that is one tough guy.

[DarkSkies]

This came from the April 2010 reports thread. Since April has passed, I thought I would post it up here. Please be advised that my stories don't count in the contest, but yours do. So post up, don't be shy!


Bunker and the police...

G and I hit some RB spots last night to do some scouting and fishing. Bunker were playing musical chairs and were not in some of the places they had been visiting. At one of the first stops, we met some cool people who fish every night


We intended to fish the last of the flood and half the ebb. We did but it was boring as hell. We had fresh clams, rotten clams, and clams that were only slightly stinky, covering all bases for the "hot clam bite".

G had one small runoff on his bait runner. I had no action whatsoever other than small flounder trying to supersize their meal.

There was a mid-teens S wind when we started. That continued for the duration until it shifted back and forth from S to W. It was interesting as the S wind of mid-60's air made it feel like June, and the cool intermittent W wind was in the mid-40's.

I grew impatient with the lack of action and waded about 1/2 mile of shoreline probing every slough and depression I knew of in that area.

I kept getting serenaded by some traveling geese that decided to rest in the area I was. There must have been about 300 of them in a shadow line on the water, a long line of quacks in the night.

Try as I might, I couldn't find any swans, though.
How about that, Fin?

We finally decided mid-tide that it wasn't gonna happen for us. This despite seeing scattered single spearing up to 5". I brought spearing profile yozuris to fish, but as I said the spearing were few and far between, not one school to be found. The bunker we were hoping would show never came in to that area, and we packed it in to scout some more bunker spots.

We hit a few and at one of them, G looked depressed because he knows his Dirty Water Spots are more productive right now. I think he was hanging over a bridge somewhere...
Someone thought he was a jumper and called the police.

They appeared like ghosts in the night to question our motives. When we told them we were just fishin freaks lookin for bunker it was all good and we stood there BS'ing for awhile. Turns out they're fishermen too.

They agreed to let us go on the condition that G get psychiatric help for his Dirty Water Depression and promised them he wouldn't hang over any more bridges.

We continued on to some other spots, marked small pods of bunker. We tried snagging a few but they were scattered. It was still good to be out and about on the bunker adventure. The fishin sucked, but we still manage to find adventure wherever we go, and G tolerates my lunacy.


Edit: Be advised that I was the one "hanging" over the side of the bridge here. It wasn't G, I embellished that part.

[jonthepain]

DWD can sneak up on you.

G tolerates my lunacy

must be the Zoloft.

And watch out for quacks in the night.

[DarkSkies]

must be the Zoloft.
And watch out for quacks in the night.

I could probably use Zoloft, it would mellow me out a bit.






********************************

Cmon people let's hear some stories, I know there are lots more out there. No need to be embarassed that people will laugh at your story, it's all good. In case ya need some motivation, here's another one of mine, the stinky waders...


My stinky waders story
Quote:
Originally Posted by rip316
THESE THINGS WERE HORRID. The meat was grey dude. I don't mind clammin or fishing chunks. The smell doesn't bother me but, these things were bad. Tackle shop should be ashamed to sell these things.

Quote:
Originally Posted by finchaser
DS is this what made your waders stink


****************


OK it's a little embarassing but who cares, it's all good even my stinky waders.

I was fishing with Finchaser last week. We took his van. I knew the waders stunk because I could detect a faint aroma, the kind you get when you go out fishin a lot, don't change out the waders, and the stink of perspiration and other substances lingers longer.

There was an aura of stink wafting around me. No wonder when we went in the WaWa to get some coffee the people behind us stood 10 feet away.

Finchaser was too diplomatic to say something at the time, or maybe he's so grouchy because he lost his sense of smell.

Anyway, the morning after his girlfriend gets in the van.

The first words out of her mouth were:
"Whoa, what the heck is that horrible smell?
Were you guys fishing bait last night?"

Fin:
"Nope, that's Rich and his waders, he was sitting right there where you are..."

At that point I think she forced him to stop the van, and they had to sanitize and put blankets on the seat where I was sitting.

Does that seem embarassing?
Maybe I need to wash those waders soon?

[jonthepain]

not my story, but here goes:

"Back in July this year. Too much to drink the night before, and bad

food. I'm driving from Weekapaug headed to Quonny. I get to the light

and the gut starts talking to me REAL LOUD. Now I'm debating...go

straight and hit the Mobil or take the right and hit the potta-potties

( if any of you listen to Howie Carr you know the reference )I go

right. About 10 seconds down the road my A-hole is screaming at me,

should of gone straight. There are about 5 vehicles behind me. I'm

sweatin it as my butt hole is clenched as tight as possible but the

fist in my stomach is doin' its damndest to push out the foul mixture.

I look in the back of the van. I don't have a googan bucket ( bad,

very bad ) no where to pull over and dump. I look back again and see

my eel cooler ( soft six pack cooler ) of course it has a 1/2 dz. eels

in it w/ ice. next to the cot. Decision is now be'in made for me.

Thank God I didn't have my neo's on. I practically power slide over to

the side of the road and bail into the back. Drop trough as I am

unzipping the cooler. Of course I forgot to slam it into park so the

van starts moving the same time as my bowels. I just reached over and

bang it into neutral for the time being " Ka Thunk " ( no, not my A

hole the tranny ). I grab hold of the cooler and don't even get to a

squat and projectile crapping has commenced. Well let's just say the

eels became pretty active suddenly and that cooler was filling up too

quick. I look out the back of the van windows and who's sitting there?

Yep, Charlestowns finest. He walks up to the drivers window and the

smell must have been the trigger. I'm looking through the side window

at him and he probably can only see my siloutte ( tinted ). He asks "

is everything OKAY in there? I'm sh!ttin my pants both ways. I reply I

needed a sudden restroom break and that currently the back of my van

is Rhode Islands newest Porta Potty. He kinda chuckles and walks over

to the side where the sliding door is. I crack the sliding door and he

pulls it back about a foot and looks in. Now he can see the cooler.



The eels are squirming around in the plastic bag under this pile of

... and his eyes are like... OH MY GOD. He turns around gagging. Now

I'm laughing and crapping at the same time. He walked back to his

patrol car and pulled away. I kid you not. He must have thought I just

gave birth to the spawn of Satan. I grabbed a roll of TP I always have

in the van and proceed to finish up. That was one of the best Sh!ts I

have ever had regarding relief. I laughed quite a bit on my way to
Quonny thinking... what would the ticket have been for?"

[Pebbles]

There were some great stories this month but we need some more contributors.

The winner this month is Shaky. His story made my skin crawl. Glad you are ok after that ordeal Shaky. PM Dark your address and the plug will be sent out on Saturday.

[rip316]

Here's my fishin story. Last week I was fishing a spot on a beach with my boss, Cardoc and Mrs. Cardoc. My boss offers me a piece of his dunkin donuts cheese flatbread sandwich. I happily accepted his gracious offering. Then out of the blue, Mrs. Cardoc yells out to the entire beach "Rip is eating a bannana". I looked around stunned. Point to myself as if I am shocked she said this. Now is where the story gets good
I go home to check the Stripers and Anglers website to see about the days catches. To my utter amazement I find that everyone is making fun of me and laughing at me because I was eating a bannana which is total taboo to the fishing community. Well I was not doing such a thing but, no one wanted to believe me. I was being laughed upon by the entire fishing world.
Since I am a pretty big guy and not afraid of many things besides my wife when she picks me up on payday, I vow to get my revenge. See there's another wise a-- out there whom I do not know that sends me a fake bannana lure. ( Do not worry Cardoc, I have not forgotten about you and you either pebbles) I end up winning a tournment with this lure. A ten thousand dollar fish and make Cardoc and Pebbles hoist me up on their shoulders and carry me to the podium. I give my celebration speech and a young man wearing smelly waders walks up to me asks how I tackled such a feat. I reach into a googan bucket and pull a dozen of Rips Rotters smelly clams and hand them over to him. The SOS looks up at me and says "Thanks Mr." I am going to sit on my bucket for a whole day til I catchem up like you. The young man then had to go home and rub the soar shoulder of the trouble making woman from carrying him to the podium.



The End





The End

[DarkSkies]

. I give my celebration speech and a young man wearing smelly waders walks up to me asks how I tackled such a feat. I reach into a googan bucket and pull a dozen of Rips Rotters smelly clams and hand them over to him. The SOS looks up at me and says "Thanks Mr." I am going to sit on my bucket for a whole day til I catchem up like you. The young man then had to go home and rub the soar shoulder of the trouble making woman from carrying him to the podium.


The End

Classic creativity dude! I had tears coming down I'm laughing so much ROTFLMFAO great!
(The only thing I would dispute is you called me a young man. I'm old, though not as old as the OGB and the OFFC. Though I would consider it a highlight of my fishin career if one day they made me an official member )

Effing fantastic story Rip!
I'm sure Pebbles will get a kick out of it when she reads this, you blasted us all in one story, priceless!

[rip316]

Glad you liked it.

[Pebbles]

That was very clever, TMB aka, "Back Bay Banana Boy". I wonder if your cleverness will win you the plug this month? If I were you I would pay attention who you have to suck up to on this thread.

Your a great sport. Thanks for giving me a good laugh.

[rip316]

Wondering what took you so long to read it? That story has to win me the plug of the month. If you need me to carry your groceries into the house for you, you let me know. I only live a few minutes from you. I would hate for Dark to be out fishing somewhere and have you hurt your shoulder lifting those heavy bags of food. ( how's that?)