Thankin of Fishin

Thankin of Fishin

Thish hyar ole hillbilly hez bin rat bizzy laitly, hwut with bilin up an boddlin mash, not tuh menshin drankin it two. Corse, hit wooden be rat fer me tuh sell nobawdy no mash thouten me a-knowin hwether hit wuz fit fer drankin. Soze Ah moas jinrully drank a kwart er fore a day.

Ennywaze, Ah bin plannin tuh git owt an dew moar fishin. Ah dun wint an taiken a pitcher of sum of muh lerrs. Hit hepps kaip me in mand of fishin.

Advertisements

Lake of the Als

SAMSUNG CSC

Yestiddy aivnin Ah drug muh liddle kayak down tuh Lake Calhoon an wint fishin. Hit wuz rat windy on Calhoon hwin Ah kummincet tuh fishin, an Ah warnt ketchin nuthin nohow. So Ah disaddid to paddle up tuh Lake of the Als, hwitch is the nex lake fum Lake Calhoon. 

Ah paddled up an startid tuh thowin muh lerrs aroun. Ah wuz moas jinrully yoozin me sum Rappluhs–sum crankbates an a gold minner bate. 

Ah fanly ketched me wun liddle ole bass. He warnt but bout twel inchiz long, but he put up kwat a fat.

Ah hed juss let at un go hwin Ah hyeerd thish hyar feller sang out, “Ewe ketchin ennythang?”

Ah lookt up, an they wuz a feller sitting on a fantsy boat. He had him wun of em air lecktrick troallin moaders soze he didden haff tuh paddle nun. They wuz ateteen er twenny fishin poals stackt on the deck an a tackle bocks thuh saz of a steemer trunk.

“Ah aint cot but wun,” Ah riplad, “an hit warnt harley wurth talkin bout.”

“Hwatchoo yoozin fer lerrs?” he axed.

“Manely Rappluhs,” Ah sed. Ah hedd up muh poal an shoad thuh feller muh gold minnerbate Rappluh. “Thish hyar is hwut Ahma yoozin now.”

Thuh feller lookt at it. “Hwah, at air’s a fan lerr. Iffen ewe aint cott yore limit awreddy, Ah wreckin ewe doant no much bout fishin.”

Ah thot a seckund bowt thuh fellers rimark. “Ah wreckin ewe got at rat,” Ah sed. Thin Ah shoad him muh flask. “Say, ewe look lack a feller hoo wooden say no tuh a drop of mash. Zat rat?”

“Mash?” the feller axed.

“Well, ewe kin cawl hit craft hwisky, iffen ewe lack. Ah distilled hit muhseff.”

Thuh feller goggled at thuh flask fer a hwal, thin raiched owt fer it. “Ah spoaz hit woant hurt me nun.”

He unscrood the cap an taiken hizzeff a liddle sip. Corse mah mash doant smell lack much a nuthin, sints hits manely alkiehaul. 

Ah wreckin hit past the sniff test, coz thuh feller tipt the flask up an taiken hizzeff a purdy good sip.

Lack Ah figgered, thuh ole boy hadden bin born an bred a-drankin moonshan. Hiz ahs kummincet rat away tuh glaze oaver, lack a kupple of Krispy Kraim doanuts. Thin he startid sladdin kanly slow-lack outen his chare.

Fore he hit the wadder, Ah raiched out an grabbed muh flask. Aint no yoose waistin good mash, an speshly aint no yoose in waistin thuh ole hillbilly’s speshul Rokkit Fule Mash.

He went in, an Ah took me a sip an thot bout it a hwal. Thin Ah disadded thet thuh ole boy wuz rat. Ah doant ratly no nuthin bout fishin. Ah aint good fer ketchin nuthin seppin skeeter bats.

So Ah fisht him owt, thoad him up on his boat, an waived muh flask under hiz noze. He kummincet tuh snortin an coffin, an he shot bowt a gallin a wadder owt of his noaze. But thin he seddled down an startid braithin reggler lack.

Ah disaddid thin tuh go on bowt muh way. An Ah aivin let thuh ole boy kaip muh gold Rappluh minner-bate. 

Corse, Ah disaddid thet after wurkin fer tin minnits tuh git the treble hooks out of his chaik. Ah warnt dewin no good at it nowaze.