So these two guys were scuba-diving, and one of them totally managed to grab this fish. He says to the other guy, "Oh my god! I totally grabbed this fish with just my hands! I'm like some kind of amazing Bear Totem Fishing Hunter!" The other guy says, "Shit! Miller Time!"
They paddle back to the boat their buds (and Millers, I guess) are at and tell everybody this unbelievable crazy story about how Jimmy just freakin' grabbed this fish with his goddamn hand, I shit you not, it is unbelievable. He's totally holding the fish still and they don't have gear with them or anything so it's clearly the truth, and everybody thinks it's the funniest thing they've heard all week.
Steve's getting just a little antsy that Jimmy's getting all this attention -- not in some stupid little girl way or anything, like waah waah nobody pays attention to me and my awesome new dive equipment, just sorta left out feeling for a second -- and with a flash of comedic brilliance says, "Dudes! Let's see if the thing actually *drinks like a fish*!" Everybody on the boat is already pretty trashed by now, because fishing is basically the art of getting drunk on the water even if you have two buddies breathing air from tiny tanks on their backs under the water that you oughta be lookin' out for, so they all cheer and somebody cracks open another bottle and passes it to Steve, and Jimmy's holding this wriggling, gasping, tired-as-hell fish halfway out of the water like it's some sort of Italian fountain fixture, and Steve just lifts the bottle over the thing's head and pours.
The fish works its gaping mouth open and closed, utterly disoriented, terrified in a dull, slow way. The deep waters in the late summer are oxygen-poor to begin with, though the foraging is good, but the past ten minutes of being held up into the unimaginably dry air, and slammed repeatedly against the surface of the water, have starved the handful of neurons with which it operates into a tingling sort of numbness. The cold, poison-filled liquid runs into its mouth and through its gills, but has no real effect. It thrashes again, reflexes driving it to push forward, find breathable water.
Jimmy is freakin' crackin' up and the fish is crazy squirming, and the whole crowd on the boat is roaring with laughter. Steve's wife Marla, who Jenny says was drunk before they even got out to the lake today but you didn't hear it from her, just about falls over the boat rail and has to be dragged backwards by her skanky-ass too-tight jeans. Somebody repeats the ridiculous pun that started this mess, "So that's what they mean when they say 'drinks like a fish'!" and everyone crows and hoots. Jimmy, the Great Bear Totem Fishing Hunter, yells "Let's see how he swims drunk!" and lets the fish go. It thrashes and wriggles, still disoriented, and then shoots downward in a very anti-climactic, not at all drunk fashion.
Later that night, Jimmy looks bleakly and bleary eyed at his teenage son's closed bedroom door, from which the same goddamn song can be faintly heard for the fourth time in a row. He wonders what happened to the boy he used to take fishing. He thinks about knocking on his door and telling his kid the story, but shakes his head and goes to bed instead.
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-17 07:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-17 09:37 pm (UTC)They paddle back to the boat their buds (and Millers, I guess) are at and tell everybody this unbelievable crazy story about how Jimmy just freakin' grabbed this fish with his goddamn hand, I shit you not, it is unbelievable. He's totally holding the fish still and they don't have gear with them or anything so it's clearly the truth, and everybody thinks it's the funniest thing they've heard all week.
Steve's getting just a little antsy that Jimmy's getting all this attention -- not in some stupid little girl way or anything, like waah waah nobody pays attention to me and my awesome new dive equipment, just sorta left out feeling for a second -- and with a flash of comedic brilliance says, "Dudes! Let's see if the thing actually *drinks like a fish*!" Everybody on the boat is already pretty trashed by now, because fishing is basically the art of getting drunk on the water even if you have two buddies breathing air from tiny tanks on their backs under the water that you oughta be lookin' out for, so they all cheer and somebody cracks open another bottle and passes it to Steve, and Jimmy's holding this wriggling, gasping, tired-as-hell fish halfway out of the water like it's some sort of Italian fountain fixture, and Steve just lifts the bottle over the thing's head and pours.
The fish works its gaping mouth open and closed, utterly disoriented, terrified in a dull, slow way. The deep waters in the late summer are oxygen-poor to begin with, though the foraging is good, but the past ten minutes of being held up into the unimaginably dry air, and slammed repeatedly against the surface of the water, have starved the handful of neurons with which it operates into a tingling sort of numbness. The cold, poison-filled liquid runs into its mouth and through its gills, but has no real effect. It thrashes again, reflexes driving it to push forward, find breathable water.
Jimmy is freakin' crackin' up and the fish is crazy squirming, and the whole crowd on the boat is roaring with laughter. Steve's wife Marla, who Jenny says was drunk before they even got out to the lake today but you didn't hear it from her, just about falls over the boat rail and has to be dragged backwards by her skanky-ass too-tight jeans. Somebody repeats the ridiculous pun that started this mess, "So that's what they mean when they say 'drinks like a fish'!" and everyone crows and hoots. Jimmy, the Great Bear Totem Fishing Hunter, yells "Let's see how he swims drunk!" and lets the fish go. It thrashes and wriggles, still disoriented, and then shoots downward in a very anti-climactic, not at all drunk fashion.
Later that night, Jimmy looks bleakly and bleary eyed at his teenage son's closed bedroom door, from which the same goddamn song can be faintly heard for the fourth time in a row. He wonders what happened to the boy he used to take fishing. He thinks about knocking on his door and telling his kid the story, but shakes his head and goes to bed instead.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-18 02:47 am (UTC)I hope someone tracks them down and forces them to drink bad liquor until they have to be hospitalized. And I'll laugh.