Marge lands 7# Bass on Bratwurst!

Marge is in her 80's and said she had always enjoyed fishing. Unfortunately, she hadn't fished since her husband passed away several years back. I offered to bring her and my wife's grandmother, "Granny", out to the farm for a morning of fishing. Granny lent Marge one of her old spinning rods. Of course, Marge had never used a spinning rod before, so I spent a large part of the morning untangling bird's nests in her reel. During the brief time that her line was actually in the water, Marge used an enormous chunk of bratwurst on a panfish hook that was so small that I had trouble just threading it.

Marge eventually got on the scoreboard with a 12" largemouth. The fact that she was able to set the hook, let alone that any fish would bite that set-up, amazed and confounded me. A couple of hours later after the sun was up and the fishing had cooled down, I decided to take Granny out on the boat to see if we could get her into some new fish in some new holes. We managed to hook a couple of small bluegill and bass, when I noticed that Marge had hooked another fish and was struggling mightily to land it. I hollered at her from across the lake and told her to simply drag the fish up on the bank by walking backwards. Marge, who had forgotten her hearing aid, could not hear my instructions and simply stood there holding her rod aloft and tried to reel through the tangled backlashes.

Knowing what was happening, I quickly picked up our anchor and motored the boat towards Marge to help her land the fish. Granny, who also was sans a hearing aid, knew nothing of what was transpiring and was totally oblivious to Marge's situation. Failing to understand why I was taking her away from a producing fishing hole where she had just landed a nice 8" bluegill, Granny loudly and in obvious displeasure repeatedly inquired "What in blue blazes are you doing?" and "What in the world's wrong with you, boy?" Granny, of course, couldn't hear any of my responses, regardless of how loudly I shouted. I eventually stopped answering her questions and simply pointed to Marge. Granny finally looked over and realized Marge's plight. At that point, Granny understood my actions and the method to the madness.

Once we hit the shore, I jumped out of the boat and promptly helped Marge land her fish. All I could see was a fish completely covered in weeds and lake gunk. After plucking some weeds away from the fishes head, I was able to locate the hook. In what could only be described as modern miracle, Marge's teensy weensy hook had somehow found itself into the barest flap of her most recent conquest's lip.

After running the fish back and forth in the lake to remove the remaining debris, what I discovered underneath shocked me even further. The bass she had landed weighed approximately 7 or so lbs. Granny, of course, is green with envy, and is not very happy with the fact that (a) Marge "stole" her fish; and (b) her grandson in law photographed the treachery and gave pictures to Marge to memorialize it.

As Paul Harvey would say, "now, you know the rest of the story."