demonicvanguard
Cadet
- Joined
- Aug 23, 2002
- Messages
- 16
The Unbelievable Adventures of "Luckless Steve"<br /><br />By Phoenix<br /><br />Now over the years that I've spent fishing Long's private fishing pond, I've seen some strange and far-fetched sights such as: Barley bashes, sacrifices, orgies, Mike's famous prophylactic story, ect, ect... But I'm certain that one of the most astonishing spectacles that ever graced a leach ridden pond involved my old friend, "Luckless Steve." <br /><br />Our adventure took place during the summer of 1985. That particular year we had a small snow pack on the Midwest cow pastures and the Long's pond had reached its final draw-down stages much earlier than normal. All of these factors combined were good news for anxious teenagers who now (if the fish Gods cooperated) might just get a shot at some of the best Bull-head fishing in years. <br /><br />Sure enough, the Long's lost its muddy tinge from the fast flowing cess-pool run off and cleared early. The good news of plenty of big, bragging'-size mutant bullhead had spread like a wild fire amongst the elite in the tight-knit fraternity of Long's fishermen. <br /><br />Somehow, while down at his favorite watering hole enjoying a few tall cool ones and two full nostrils full of crank, old Luckless Steve got wind of all these whopper-sized bullhead, just waiting to be caught. The next thing you know Luckless Steve has my phone number dialed from a noisy pay phone and in a slightly inebriated, strung-out voice he was trying to explain about a pond filled to the brim with giant fish. We excitedly made plans for an early morning rendezvous at the leach log, just east of County ***** house <br /><br />Saturday morning dawned beautifully clear, windless and warm with the smell of the sewage plant fresh in our nostrils--about as close to picture-perfect as you could get. Although right on time, Luckless Steve didn't appear so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when he arrived. He was wearing some pink Speedos with a vomit stained shirt which read, "I drink the beer." He reeked of stink-bait, which he claimed someone put on the handle bars of his bike. We launched our boat with no difficulties and soon made our way to one of the popular Hot spots in the middle of the Long's Pond. <br /><br />We had fished for a few hours and drank a case of beer before anyone on the pond landed one of those bullheads that were just waiting to be caught, and at two pounds it was far from a whopper. Around noon I hooked, landed and released a fairly decent fish with a healed-over seal bite on its side--the last action that I'd see for the day. This certainly wasn't the case for old Luckless Steve, he was about to get a "fish bite" he'd remember for the rest of his life. <br /><br />Now like I said...We had polished off a case of beer between the three of us, plus Steve had managed to smoke almost an 8 ball of Crank while simultaneously rewiring the depth finder and babbling about how his dad made him look at nude photos of his mom when he was a kid. Then just as we were about ready to throw his tweaking butt out of the boat, Steve's ugly stick started bending over more than a pretty boy doing hard time! Steve jumped up as if heard sirens, breaking his glass smoking vessel in the process of reaching for his epileptic rod! He finally got a hold of it after upsetting his tackle box and hooking himself with a wide variety of lures....As he was jerking and reeling with everything a junky could muster, he started speaking in some unknown language, which sounded like a Pentecostal revival....Now this display continued for what seemed like forever, then just when it looked like the stingy pond would finally give up its prize, Steve lost his balance and fell head over heels out of the boat! He remained underwater for a great deal of time and when he emerged he started yelling, "I lost my f**cking rod!" He then remained there for a while treading water and looking into the murky depths, as if hoping for some divine intervention....It was at that time he looked up only to discover that his boat mates were pissing on his head and had been for some time! "He screamed F-you you bast**ds!" We then started up the boat and made our way to shore, leaving our pissed on friend in the middle of the pond contemplating his fate. <br /><br />We had already put the boat on the trailer and smoked a couple of bowls before Steve drug his sorry butt out the pond.....And as he got closer we observed that his body was covered in leaches and he was crying like a school girl! We took turns apologizing to our drenched/leachy friend, but there was no forgiveness in his hard heart---So we said the **** with it and threw his ten speed out of the back of Mike's truck and took off....I can still remember hearing his faint cursing as we headed down that gravel road.....For he must have discovered the fresh coat of "Stink-Bait" we put on his bicycle grips!<br /><br />Thanks Steve....