Fishing in Public

by “Tackle Box” Billy Kelley
by “Tackle Box” Billy Kelley

A great catch

Well, well, glory hallelujah! Somebody heard my plea for sure and did the rain dance like nobody has ever done. The numbers aren’t in yet, but I’m betting ’bout three inches at least. Yahoo! Now I can go fishing.

The only bitch I have is the goddamn cold the rain seems to have brung with it. Christ, for a couple days I was wearing whatever winter clothes I hadn’t stashed away for the season. In June. You tell me that Maine don’t got the craziest weather on earth and I’ll say you got a screw loose.

But ’fore I continue I must make a few comments about last month’s edition of The Bollard. I read the whole thing word for word, beginning to end. Even though I write for this mag, I don’t usually do that. Of course, I always enjoy Cliff Gallant (after all, I helped him get this gig), but the person that wrote about opioids in this city stole the show. It was very informative, for one thing. He really did his homework. However, I did notice somethin’: he didn’t mention what are known as “benzos.” And neither will I, as I’d be getting much too far on a tightrope. I just hope he could perhaps say something about that problem the next time.

Now let’s get to my column. My editor calls but I can’t write it here as I’m listening to a concerto of leaf-blowing machines, so I’m headed down to the pier where I can find some tranquility and write while I fish. Though it’s still a bit early. The sounds of the wharf don’t affect me at all: tug boats, fishing trawlers — music to my ears. I’d love to live down here.

You know what bugs me the most about this cold weather? I can’t wear shorts yet. How am I gonna attract my usual quota of females without showing my cute legs? This could be a real problem. Talk about a low batting average. Which makes me wonder ’bout somethin’. I don’t know when I catch a fish if it’s male or female. To keep it very genteel, I can’t spot their genitals. Now, I’m gonna toss ’em back this year, so’s it kinda don’t matter. Just a curious thing.

Walking down the waterfront, it seems the gals are bitchy on certain days, like after a full moon. Does the female fish act like that? “Not tonight, dear, I got a headache”? Perhaps. Poor fellas. I know the feeling.

So I reach my destination finally, the wharf, where I can sit and just contemplate life. Right now I’m contemplating digging out last year’s fishin’ bag. It still smells like last year’s fish. Yeah, sometimes it’s good to be a bachelor.

By the way, did I say cute legs? I meant to say adorable legs.

Down here my perfect perch to write is sittin’ on a bollard, with a Bollard for a writing pad, writing a column for The Bollard. Funny, huh? You folks should join me. It’s lovely. Makes me wonder: where does the phrase “happy as a clam” come from? I never seen a happy clam headed for a steam pot.

I don’t know if it’s more fun to go fishing or to walk down the pier. Jesus, the girls are looking better all the time. I get a lot of comments from folks on my way. Too bad they mostly say, “Too early, too early.” Well, I know that, but it’s good to hear conversation like that anyway. And like I said, the scenery is amazing. Older I get, better they look.

Here’s a hint to all you single guys: even if you don’t fish, walk around with a fishing pole. You’ll be amazed at the results. Somethin’ ’bout a guy with a pole brings out something in the girls.

I see a seal out there waiting and can’t help but think what else I’m up against. New fish finders that say not only the amount of fish but their size, distance, you name it. Nets five-football-fields wide where nothing escapes. Plus pollution, competition, other countries. Over 30 percent of the best fish have been already wiped out by overfishing. And now they are mad at fish farms for spreading something called fish lice, which do a good job of fish depletion. Scientists are doing their best, of course, but will there be enough time?

I had planned on the trestle today, but boy, it sure looks like a thunderstorm. Bad spot to be during a storm. Then again, there’s that seal, still here, so it’ll be the trestle after all. It’s a longer voyage to get there, but well worth the view along the way.