That I caught a fish. This was no ordinary fish, I could tell by the first hit that it was different. I set the hook, and like dropping a coin into a slot, the ride began. I was pulled this way, and that as the fish changed directions trying to make me give in. Little did it know, this battle of will would not be won so easily, but I knew I was in over my head. I dug my heels into those muddy Wishkah banks, and took turns pulling, and reeling watching what I knew would rival Jaws in size, thrashing around in the fast current until I found myself on my back giving it one last pull with all the effort I had left, and at the very same moment the fish jumped. It landed in my hand ... it was a goldfish.
I have to hand it to her, she was a fabulous little fish with fancy long fins, and she was wearing lipstick. I remember unhooking her by clipping the barb off my hook because I couldn't bear to pull it back through, and I let her go. With a wink she jumped out of my hand, and back into the water.
I don't know what any of this means.
What I DO know is that two of these guys are mine
