Even When the Fishing is Great, There is Always “One Little Thing”

"An old fisherman was walking beside his favourite stream. The sun was
setting and he just had time to try one more cast through the run
called Jim’s Legs. It was a fast piece of water with a smooth boulder
dividing the current into two distinct and slightly curved paths that
met up again after a short distance. The run was named after his
life-long friend and fishing partner Jim, who had recently passed on.

It wasn’t named after him because Jim had figured out the complex
presentation required for the conflicting currents, or that he caught
the first salmon there; nope, it was because Jim was as bowlegged as a
cowboy even though he had spent his whole life here on the East coast.

Well, the Old Fellow thought,” This one’s for you Jim” and flicked his
Brown Bug above and to the right of the smooth boulder. He was
concentrating on the bug and preparing to flick the critical upstream
mend that would slow the fly down as it passed the usual lie when he
heard a whispery voice.

“Nice cast.”
The Old Fellow started and turned to the shadowy figure beside him.
“Jim” he said “is that you?”
“It’s me” said Jim. “I’ve just come to say hello and thank you for
thinking of me. By the way, the fishing in Heaven is fantastic. Every
evening there is a fly tying class and the next morning that is the
fly the fish will be rising to. It is all good except for one little
thing.”
“It sounds fantastic Jim” said the Old Fellow, “What’s the one little thing?”
“Well”, said Jim “Next Tuesday night you are giving a class on tying
your famous Brown Bug.”"

An Almost True Fishing Story

I was driving home from a backwoods-fishing trip one time and stopped at a roadside farm market. They had the usual corn and tomatoes but I noticed the proprietor sipping from a cup of something with obvious enjoyment.

He soon offered me a glass of the best home-made, Apple Brandy I had ever tasted. I ended up buying a bottle to take home with me.

As I pulled back onto the road, I saw a local man hitchhiking. Because the trip would be long and quiet, I stopped the car and the man climbed in.

During the small talk, the man kept glancing surreptitiously at the
brown bag on the front seat between us.

"If you're wondering what's in the bag," I said, "it's a
bottle of Apple Brandy. I got it for my wife."

The man was silent for awhile, nodded several times and said, "Good
trade."