Fly Fishing. (Humour)

Poem By Anthony Fry

In the dead of summer a fly was resting on a leaf beside a lake.

Q: I wonder what go's through a mosquito's
brain when he hits a window -screen at 80mph
A: his butt!

The hot, dry fly said to no one in particular,
'Gosh...if I go down three inches with the swiftness of a lioness I will feel
the mist from the water and I will be refreshed.'

There was a fish in the water as the day was breaking thinking,
What is fishing? Fishing is the process by which a large animal uses
a small animal to catch and eat a third, middle-sized animal, the fish.
The technique, though very ancient in the history of man, is far from instinctual.
Hence these notes for absolute beginners. How to fish: Animal No.1,
Man, finds a piece of bent steel, sharpened and barbed, and sticks this into
the living body of the small animal, Animal No.2, the Worm. The worm,
though vertebrally challenged, does not seem to have any organized support
group or vocal constituency. Sticking bent steel into its body can therefore be
done more or less with impunity. This causes No.2 considerable pain,
and it immediately goes into the death agony, writhing and screaming.
Or it would be screaming, if it had better means of producing sound.
It is also vocally challenged. The screaming of a worm is virtual screaming.
You would need very acute ears. It is in the interest of No.1 (you)
that the mortal agony of No.2 continue long enough to look appetizing.
In any case, even if 2 should have passed on, you now dangle it,
or its earthly envelope, in the water before Animal No.3, the Fish,
hoping that the latter is feeling hungry and that you have selected the
sort of worm it fancies. Usually 3 will swallow 2. When this happens,
No.1 gives a sharp jerk on the barbed steel, the point of which sticks
into some part of 3's body... the throat or the lips or the cheeks or something.
If it does,1 pulls 3 out of its natural environment, the water, onto the land.
The shock of getting a steel hook snagged in the esophagus is,
of course, bad enough, but to be yanked from home into a new and
inappropriate environment will probably kill the fish at once.
Death is in any event imminent. If death should, however, be inconveniently
slow in coming,1 can of course hold 3 by the tail and beat the life out of it
against the deck. A small boy (No.1 in our system) will generally find this
spectacle edifying, though it can interfere with a normal appetite for seafood.
Now you have two small dead animals on your hands.
You discard whatever you can find of the worm, leaving one small dead animal
to be dealt with. If you do not eat No.3 on the spot and prefer to keep it until
you have a better appetite, you must contrive to keep it as cold as possible.
This is necessary because of a whole bunch of really small animals that
have been out of the picture up to this point. It is easy to ignore them most
of the time since they can be seen only with a microscope.
These are bacteria (collectively, Animal No.4.)
The moment No.3 gives up the ghost, No.4 falls to with tiny knives and forks
and begins to consume it, causing in the process one of the poorer-quality
smells known here below. But 4 works slowly at low temperatures,
so you should have time to get 3 back to some stove or other source of high heat,
suddenly raise the temperature, and then eat the works - the fish, the bacteria,
and whatever is left of the worm. Delicious! But do remember to bury what you don't eat.

'Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches, I can eat him.'

There was a bear on the shore hidding amongst the hedgerows thinking,
About this bear and this rabbit who were talking.
Q: The bear asked the rabbit,
'Do you have trouble with poop sticking to your fur? '
A: The rabbit said, 'No.'
So the bear picked up the rabbit and used it to wipe his butt!

'Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches
that fish will jump for the fly...and I will grab him! '

It also happened that a hunter was sat amongst the espaliers of blackberries
farther up the bank of the lake preparing to eat a cheese sandwich....
'Gosh, ' he thought, One day I came home kinda late. His wife was a little
peeved and asked him to explain. He said, 'well you see Honey I went
fishing and thought I would just do a little bank fishing,
got my gear out of the car and walked aways to the water.
I threw my line in and oh boy I pulled in a big catfish.
I then found out I forgot to bring my fish basket. So I just threw the catfish
in back of me under a tree. I baited up again and in a little while I caught
one of thoes ole dogfishes. I didn't want to put it back in the water so I threw
it under the tree too. I baited up again and sat there waiting for my next catch.
All of a sudden I heard such a noise and when I looked that dogfish and that
catfish were in a fight and that dogfish chased the catfish up that tree and I had to
sit there all day before I caught a swordfish to saw that tree down to get my catfish.

'if that fly goes down three inches...
And that fish leaps for it... that bear will expose himself
and grab for the fish. I'll shoot the bear and have a proper lunch.'

Now, you probably think this is enough activity
on one bank of a lake, but I can tell you there's more....

A wee mouse strolling through the trodden down nettles
by the hunter's foot was thinking,
Q: I heard a mouse squeak.
A: Well, what do you want me to do? Oil it? ? ?

'Gosh if that fly goes down three inches...
and that fish jumps for that fly...
And that bear grabs for that fish...
the dumb hunter will shoot the bear and dropp his
cheese sandwich.'

A cat lurking with the doves singing in anthem in the bushes
took in this scene and thought, (as was fashionable to do
on the banks of this particular lake around lunch time)
A tom cat friend was heard running up and down the alley for
hours. A neighbor called his owner and asked what was
happening. The owner said, “Well, I had him neutered today,
and he’s going around canceling all his engagements.”

'Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches...and that
fish jumps for that fly...And that bear grabs for that
fish and that hunter shoots that bear...and that
mouse makes off with the cheese sandwich...
Then I can have mouse for lunch.'

The poor fly is finally so hot and so dry that he heads
down for the cooling mist of the water.
The fish swallows the fly... The bear grabs the fish...
The hunter shoots the bear..
The mouse grabs the cheese sandwich...
The cat jumps for the mouse..
The mouse ducks...
The cat falls into the water and drowns.

The moral of the story is:
Whenever a fly goes down three inches,
some pussy is in serious danger

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