Half of y'all sensed that Fishkill was a bit too fishy. It was indeed a sham.

There was a fish fight one summer at the farm and "You can throw perch all day, but nothing flies like a crappy" did generate from it but everything else about the story was the product of my fevered imagination. We used to fish a lot up there but the catch tended to be very small - mostly young perch, smallmouth and crappy. We'd bring our haul back to the farm and bury them in the fields. This was supposed to be some natural fertilizer. As far as I know it just made the fields stink like rotting fish.

Anywho...one day while we were sticking our dead fish in the dirt somebody threw one at somebody else (the identity of the instigating cousin has been lost to the ages). It was as if somebody had stood up on the lunchroom table and screamed "FOOD FIGHT!" Fish flew fast and furious as we pelted each other with deceaced piscines. It didn't last very long since we each had only a few fish, but it was great fun.

A few days later we got bitched out severely by Uncle when he found unburied dead fish scattered all over his lettuce field.

One point to each of these folk. For the rest of the guessers this is one that got away.

Contagion
Rob
Jeff
Victor
Clancy (A year and a half, nothing. Now two in a row!)
Helen
Margi
Boudicca
Diamond Dave

Posted by: Jim at 11:20 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 265 words, total size 2 kb.