This time of year a fellow has to tiptoe around all those packages sprinkled at his door for fear he opens the wrong one and is accused of peeking …
At this late juncture there are no surprises under our tree, no inflatable love dolls or mysterious oblong packages that resemble a new fly rod.
The harsh reality is our Destiny is pedestrian; lumps of coal interspersed with socks – or tee shirts with the neck as yet unstretched.
All of us had them same meager roots …Older Bro and I would grit our teeth knowing we were getting designer underwear compliments of the Emporium basement sale, as Ma loved her Italian designer, “Irregulare’.”
Today was no different, as I tripped over all the accumulated packages at the back door, one rattled fetchingly as it rolled toward the planter box and I knew it was That Which Cannot Be Mentioned. The first of many sins I’ll commit against our beloved sport.
Naturally I spritz a bit of it on the doorjamb and note the piquant yet aged notes of over-ripe crustacean, and nod appreciatively knowing the Scent of Mashed Crayfish might feature prominently in my trips to the Pristine as well.
I keep thinking of That Guy, the fellow a friend invites that forgets half his tackle and ends up borrowing your toothbrush.
… and in the pre-Dawn blackness, he fumbles for his kit and finds his deodorant a couple of hundred miles South … and could he burrow mine …
Sure, I says, reaching for my vest …
Man, that’s cold! But, it’s THAT GUY, and it’s a tough room.
Does’ everyone know that special Italian designer?
Everyone that lives within two zip codes of an Emporium, or whose spoon was stainless, knows of Mssr. Irregulare’ …
That is classic. Like substituting a cat food sandwich for tuna.
This feels like a league admission of steroid use or cycling federation apology for blood doping. Next week we will get a photo of “The Underground” with his sport coat over his head. “My Nymph didn’t inhale” carefully attached to the bottom of the picture as habits learned in the potty water migrate to the pristine.
Mmmmmm air freshener….
I’m not going to lie…
A cotton ball soaked in Fish Formula gets stuffed into each large fly box I use to store flies.
Not so much to give the flies scent as to try and cover up the scent of mothballs and flexible cement.