The telltale squeal of feminine voices has me tightening my grip on Sweetpea’s arm, an attempt to steer her clear of a consumptive orgy while maintaining possession of wallet, credit cards, and our immediate destiny.
We’ve inadvertently stumbled across a sale whose neatly stacked boxes and fearful clerks are about to be trampled in a rush of appreciative females.
Sensing my sudden attempt to steer opposite, and while I’m flirting with an icy stare and a lifetime of penance, someone screams one of the many Fly Fishing Reserved Words …
“… Ooo, they’ve got Stoneflies! …”
Like any dutiful spouse, I reverse course to throw elbows and chop-block the opposition while my “running back” gingerly tiptoes over the corpses and bleeding shoppers in my wake.
… and yes, I was completely taken in. Nothing whatsoever to do with fishing.
The clerk looks me over with distaste and just before he summons the mall cops, I seize the bit …
“Got any wading boots?”
The sudden silence attests to my genius, I’m no longer the brutish lout that stepped on little kids and Grandma – I’m now a shopping “Alpha Dog” – who fought his way to the front while the pack snarls over my table scraps…
The clerk stammers, “I don’t believe we have any of those …?”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
Now it’s Madam’s turn to pull me away from the suddenly appreciative throng. A pear-shaped fellow that can “Sale-fu” as well as the Sisterhood is a hot commodity.
Fly fishing’s reserved words should never be plastered on tawdry products – it’s akin to yelling “fire” in a darkened theater.
Tags: Stonefly shoes, yelling fire in a theater, clingers, epic fail, fly fishing reserved words,
I don’t know what is worse: that I read this story with complete commiseration, all the while nodding with approval or that Its probably true.
We’ve all endured the indignity – but a rarified fly fishing term was taken in vain, that’s a hideous wrinkle to an age old game.