So I drug him all over Hell’s Half-Acre and returned him to Momma broken and sunburnt. It’s said “Revenge is a dish best served cold” – but I served it hot, rationing his water brutally, driving him like a beef to market.
I’m not vindictive most times, but eating them dirty socks in fourth grade wrought a terrible retribution; marginal fishing, 90 degree temperatures, and miles of gravel creek bed – no respite, little remorse, and less sympathy.
It’s the “little brother syndrome” – by accident the big lout was older’n me, requiring me to run screaming to Momma at the slightest affront. Now with civilization hundreds of yards away, it was payback time.
Occasionally I let him fish, heckling from a safe distant, mindful that I was going to have to run like hell if he got pissed. It’s my home water and while I’d hoped to crush his spirits further by outfishing him – that wasn’t in the cards.
All I could do was tell him to cross the river at the deep spots, fling rocks – and claim they were monstrous and hungry fish rising for Twinkies, and expose him to enough Selenium and Mercury to alter his genetic material.
I don’t expect I’m completely even, but fourth grade was covered nicely. We haven’t addressed anything more recent nor the “Igneous Rock” nom de plume … Hell hath no fury like a blogger heckled by his brother …
The beauty of it all is Ma don’t read the blog, so even if he rats me out there’s no proof. I’m expecting the worst however, shortly the phone will ring and the salutation will start with, “Damn, Ma’s cookies are good…”
Rat Bastard.
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Older brothers are like fathers. No matter how big you get, they’ll always be able to kick your ass.
That’s what I tell my younger siblings anyway. They still feign respect in my presence, but laugh at me behind my back. Not that it matters. We’re all too old now to do much damage. Mom’s grateful for that.
He will never cut a figure on the water like the FLY FISH CHICK, but he can at least stay upright and in focus. The unaccustomed pose is about right, but for a San Francisco boy, his cap is on backwards, and could you not have outfitted him with some of your better Cabela’s gear ? Those dark and muted tones suggest he may have already been fully immersed and isn’t fishing dry.
Yomama – I wouldn’t be so sure, FlyFishChick is holding a Bonefish, and you accused older brother of having a “Bone-head” many times – that’s enough for me.
SMJ – older brother’s have it easy, without the constant diet of dirty socks I might’ve been somebody, Lord knows how many brain cells were lost…
It occurs to me that many men fish their whole lives only to discover it is not Fish they are after!