The Bettermost Drabblefest: Please Join In!

[MaineWriter]

In honor of all those fishing trips over the years, how about these "fishy" expressions for today?

• fish or cut bait
• a fine kettle of fish
• the one that got away

L

[outrider]

fish or cut bait
a fine kettle of fish
the one that got away

http://bettermost.net/forum/index.php/topic,9354.new.html#new

~

[Clyde-B]

 
"Well, del Mar's a good worker, but he is who he is.  No pretending to be something he ain't, that's for sure. 

Marie,
Nice and simple and a really pleasing rhythm.

  “Fuckin Ennis gets inside a me more n more everyday,” he thought, as he crushed the butt under the heel of his boot.

 

Leslie,
Gees, I wish this was true!  But the way he plays kissyface with Michelle, I really doubt it.   

         He gets in his truck and checks his rear mirror, and slowly and carefully pulls out onto the road to return to his youth.  He always feels that way, ever
time he goes back to that mountain.  His and Jacks mountain.  I always feel like I'm me up there, he thinks.  No pretendin to be someone i'm not.  Its the place where we can always be young and free.   

Janice,
This all has a nice leisurely pace to it, no hurryin to get through.

The Stranger

He looked at the mirror, he felt a shock, it was a total stranger looking back at him.  A person that he did not know, or even recognize at all.  He closed his eyes, and looked again, but the strange face was still there.

He always had done what he thought was right, what they expected him to do.  He became the person that they all wanted him to be.  But it was never, ever enough.  No matter what.

He looked back at the mirror, the stranger was still there.  The stranger stared at him with a scowl.  He could almost hear this stranger say ‘stop pretending to be someone you're not’.  But he didn’t know who he was, he didn’t know who he was supposed to be.  He didn’t know if he could still be the person that he was supposed to be, whoever that person was.

(148 words)

"I ain't nothin.  I ain't nowhere."  Nice chunk of truth in this, Marl.

[mariez]

Gosh, didn't really mean it to be, sorry Marie. 

Marl

No, don't be sorry, Marl.  Evoking emotions from a reader- even sadness -  is a sign of fine writing.   Reading this I imagined that there must be so many people who feel this way.  Not knowing who they are, not being able to accept who they are - and it just struck me as terribly sad. 

Thanks,
Marie

[Clyde-B]

    Out of the truck, Jack stood tall, a good half foot taller than the mechanic. “This here’s a fine kettle a fish.  Just what the hell’s your problem?”
    They were three against one.
    The mechanic moved in close palming the tire iron.  “Don’t suffer your kind around here.”
     Jack smiled, turned on the charm.  “I sell tractors.  You got somethin against tractor salesmen?”
     nobody laughed.
     The stocky one yelled, “We gone a fish or cut bait?”
    Jack glanced at the silo trying to gauge the distance.
    The mechanic sneered a gap-toothed grin.  “Planin on bein the one that got away?”


    100 words

[ifyoucantfixit]

Janice,
This all has a nice leisurely pace to it, no hurryin to get through.
     ( this made me laugh Marie.  It sounds like i am boring you to tears...hahah)
Saying get it over with...?

          Clyde you have given us a great fear.   fine job.

                                                                                  janice

[ifyoucantfixit]

         The easy drone of the tires on the road, and the engine were playing together, to combine the feeling of rest and long ago memories.  He could feel the time sliding away as water over a fall.  Drips and splashes cascading down.  He remembered the times as they dropped over the edge  Like the fish they never seemed to catch.  Jack and his fools acts.  The cool and
simple nights.  The laying down, and the rising up.  A routine they fell into without no plannin.  Just was.  He always tried to call up those times, but they were getting harder and harder to get back into his mind.  I guess it really is true.  Time makes changes.  Even ones ya don't want.  He regrets them going.  Just like the times when Jack would talk about the fishing, they just never seemed to do much of. " Just tell her, bout the ones that got away.  That'll keep her."  Never seemed to do so though.  She always wondered.
Why, we "never brought any trouts home?"  He smiled and then remembered that Thanksgivin time.  "Well she never did believe me Jack.  Never did, and thats for sure." " Even said so one time."
      "Seems the only time I can see you plain as day is in the night."  "I only wish the nights was longer, and the days shorter, stead of other way round."  "I miss you somethin fierce Jack.  I purely do.  That ain't no foolin.  Wish ya was here right now."  "Never will stop wantin that, always will."  He noticed they were getting to the turnoff.  "Time to get on up to the jump off Jack.  We're gettin close."


         Here is that very same road last May.

[mariez]

Well, I can't take credit where it's not due, Janice.  It was Clyde's compliment about the "nice leisurely pace..."  - and I'm sure you're not boring him!   

What a great picture to go along with another touching drabble. Thanks!

Marie

[mariez]

    Out of the truck, Jack stood tall, a good half foot taller than the mechanic. “This here’s a fine kettle a fish.  Just what the hell’s your problem?”
    They were three against one.
    The mechanic moved in close palming the tire iron.  “Don’t suffer your kind around here.”
     Jack smiled, turned on the charm.  “I sell tractors.  You got somethin against tractor salesmen?”
     nobody laughed.
     The stocky one yelled, “We gone a fish or cut bait?”
    Jack glanced at the silo trying to gauge the distance.
    The mechanic sneered a gap-toothed grin.  “Planin on bein the one that got away?”

    100 words

Clyde, you're killing me, bud.  Not just with suspense, but with your ability to manipulate the prompts.  I looked at the prompts today and thought you'd never be able to use them if you continued this story.... silly me!   

Marie

[mariez]

Cutting Bait

He waited impatiently at the counter, listening to the station owner give his son what for.

". . . so you'd better fish or cut bait, Billy . . ." 

Shit.  He had his creel, but he remembered his tackle box was still on the floor in the back of the closet.   Hmmm – well, no matter.  He didn't really need it.

He was speeding down the highway an hour later while she stood stock-still staring at the forgotten box.  "Well, this a fine kettle of fish," she murmured. She heard no humor in her own voice, only a resigned determination.

~~~~~~~
100 Words