Ol' Captain Babbit's Fishing Story.

“Well, hello all of you landlubbers. Did you come here to listen to ol’ Captain Babbit tell you a good old fish story? Well,” she says as she dips her plastic pipe into bubble solution and sits in an old, over stuffed chair, “You’ve come to the right place.” Bubbles pour out of her pipe as she thinks. “How about a new story, one I’ve never told before, just because it happened just a couple of days ago. Yeppers. Ol’ Captain Babbit went fishing on the sea from a port just off of Boston. Sit down and listen. Believe what you wish but this is a mostly true fish tale.”
“It was about seven in the morning when we boarded the craft. It was a long boat made just for fishing. In the harbor, the water was calm. It was low-tide and the ducks were swimming around. There was one named Drew. I broke off a piece of my peanut butter sandwich for him. That made him happy….
“Anywho, we left the harbor soon after boarding. There were boats everywhere, but none as magnificent as ours. They were all little puddle-jumpers compared to ours. Yep. I bet a tuna fish would drag them under. The ocean got more restless as we hit open sea. Every once in a while, a rouge wave would hit our boat sending spray over the sides, maybe even hitting the captain’s quarters. After a while though, the captain chose a spot that he believed would be a good spot. It wasn’t.
“It was a long time before anyone caught anything. The first to catch something was my dad, but the fish he caught was about the same size as the bait he used. After he threw it back overboard, a seagull dove down and ate the tiny fish. I didn’t know if I should have taken that as an omen or not. I didn’t.
“The boat moved from location to location, but no one could catch anything except the line that belongs to the person next to them. The tangles were bad. For a while, we were in the blazing sun, scorching anything that it came in contact with, but shortly the fog drifted in. It was thick and it circled the boat. We could only see what was right in front of out noses.
“At the next to last spot we stopped at, I dropped my line into the water as usual. The stinky clam attached to the large golden hook left an oily trail as it sunk to the dark depth of about 300 feet. It sat at the bottom for the longest time, nothing bothering to touch it. Then suddenly, I felt a tug. I reeled in my line as fast as I could, but it was tiring. The fish fought hard, and fought long, but I finally won. I could see it approaching the surface. It was a shark! A dogfish! The deckhand, one I recognized from a previous trip, helped me pull in the enormous shark. He wouldn’t let me touch it though. Dogfish have a spine near their tails that, when sunk into flesh, secretes a toxic substance. He threw it back into the ocean as soon as he got it on board. Apparently, sharks are protected and you cant keep them.
“The captain had to move the boat because the sharks were starting to swarm. People were catching the dangerous beasts left and right. We got out as fast as we could, but not without losing most of our clam bait.
“It was getting to be late, and all most caught were sharks. One man was lucky enough to catch a huge cod, but I believe that he cheated. He didn’t use clams like the rest of us, oh no. He used a shiny piece of metal that caught the eyes of the right fish and turned the sharks away. He cheated he did.
“On the way home, people had their fish cleaned at the back of the ship. The seagulls, dumpster ducks they were calling them, were flying over the back of the boat, waiting for the tiniest bit of fish to fall off. The deckhand that was kind enough to help me with my fish was also in the process of making chowder. On the way home after every day of fishing, the deckhand makes chowder that he gives out to any and all that want it. It was good chowder, let me tell you, but a bit hot. I burned my tongue. Oops.
“By the time the boat was in the harbor, the sun was quietly setting in the west. We all got off the boat, resentful to leave. The fishing day had been unsuccessful, but that didn’t matter. We all had a fun time. “
Captain Babbit sat back in her chair, bubbling her plastic pipe, almost reliving the fond memories. “Yes my dears. It was a good time, a good time.”