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Too drunk to fish
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Hehe, love the song, 007.
Gotta tell you tho', we've had some offshore expeditions that were epic. Three cases of beer and 4 guys - the captain only had his person stash of 2 Fosters the old lady packed for him 'cause he was the designated driver. Oh, and an 18 pack of hot Natural Lite "shrimper beer," forgot about that and yeah we hit on that when we ran out, too.
Man we trolled and trolled and trolled, not nary a knock-down or as much as a flying fish. One peanut dorado about 14 inches long hit the decks about 4 o'clock, but that was after we popped a hose off the port engine and had to open up the hatches. Do you now how hard it is to operate on a smokin' hot engine with glasses on and a cold beer in your hand? Man what a bad trip - the shrimpers all told us to go away and showed us they meant it with some rather serious looking guns, too.
But anyways, we was serious bummed, even though the captain ran the yellow tourney flag for a dorado up the shotgun rigger. "You got a shrimp flag thar, captain?" Now cappy was a nice guy even though he wanted to whip us but he just said "warsh down the cockpit and drink all the beer on the boat, dangit. Being kinda ditzy from 12 hours in the sun. And that's exactly what we did.
Now I didn't know this, but them two other crewhands was some kinda Indians from Oklahoma, and I didn't know drinking and Indians was a bad ideal - I mean the guys looked like normal people and was high school teachers, not like no wild Comanche or somethin'. Well it was a long ride home in a 14 MPH boat from about 40 miles out from the jetty buoy, and another half hour to the dock. Gollee them fellers could talk. The fish kept on gettin' bigger and bigger. I tried to tell 'em not to throw the beer cans in the ocean and dang near got horse whupped. By the time we got the shrimper beer cold they was playing squirt gun with the freshwater and saltwater wash-down hoses.
So then ya know the captain played a dirty trick on us, and put out the word for the wives to meet us at the dock. We was innocently walking on all fours up the docks, soaking wet and leakin' a little blood here and there, and here come the gals - with cameras! All the sudden us three decide we can actually stand up to walk, which was rather amusing in itself. Talk about a buzz-killer, but we ended up being good boys and not dumping the gold 50-wides into the muck. Well, except Chief Peeing Bull decides to eat the little dolphin raw, in disgust! Wuff-wuff-wuff, he throws the remains into a center console boat parked next door.
So the captain gets his boat all squirted off and buttoned up and us boys peel off two very wet hundred dollars bills for gas shares each, saying "dang that was a great time let's do that again," them wimmins cackling like a bunch of barnyard hens and pointing as us. Folks, this story is only about 10 percent fisherman's lyin', I'm telling ya.
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