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I have been losing so many flies to the bottom that my own tying could not keep up. So I had this plan to steal a whole bunch of flies and remedy the situation. Nothing personal, but if I need flies and you have more flies than you need, then the solution to the problem is obvious. Balance is always a good thing, Aristotle once said.

In order to avoid getting beaten up, I am withholding exactly where the following took place. If you've lost a fly or two lately, don't necessarily think it was me. There are rocks on the bottom; believe me.

I confess to the following: on an unspecified date on an unspecified river, I planted a small air pump, powered by a big battery, in the weeds. From the pump, I attached a garden hose, painted to look like gravel. Then I donned my wet suit and I positioned myself on the bottom in what is probably the most overcrowded hole on the west coast.

I got in about nine feet of water so no one could wade out and kick my bazule. I did all this in the dark of morning before anyone had arived.

At first light, all went as suspected. And, as fly after fly swept past me, I just cut them off and put them in a mesh bag attached to my waist. But I decided to have a little harmless fun which probably so thrilled the owner of the fly, he wouldn't have minded that I cut his leader and stole his fly. So I feel no guilt.

What I did was to grasp the fly with a gaff hook and make a violent jerk and then I would hold on for a while, pumping the line all the time. Though garbled by the water, I could hear, "Fish on! Watch out, commin down! Get the hell off of my line!" An then a creel full of obscenities. Then I would break him off. Lots of chuckles from me here. I tried not to laugh too hard because I was afraid of the bubbles it might cause. I was cagey enough to place my self in an area, a seam, which was very bubbly so my normal exhales went unnoticed.

But then the water seemed to fill up with flies. Many were knotted together. One group had four lines in it and all of them were twisted together. I had to cut fast just to keep up. I figured all hell must be breaking loose on the bank. I just wanted a few free flies; I had no idea I would cause a riot that would result in somebody calling the police. Why is that always when I go outdoors, the cops always seem to swarm all over me?

The cops, of course, started shooting into the water and I could see the bullets slipping side to side as they drifted harmlessly to the bottom; some hit my head. Damn! They had my number...

Now, horror upon horror, comes this boat with a rope and grapple hook hanging over the side and they are headed right at me, the hook following just off the botom with the points sharpened to a razor Some jerk of a deputy sheriff, probably on overtime, had honed them to a keen edge. So I cut that son of a buzzard right off immediately.

Now some sort of grenades were being dropped around me. I could hear the chop of helicopters overhead.

I decide to boogie and crawled slowly toward the bank. Shultz, when I got close, all I could see were rubber legs packed as tight as pickets on a fence. Maybe forty or more guys were directly in from of me and you don't need to be a rocket scientist to know that they would kick the feces completely out of me if I crawled from the river.

So I withdrew to deeper water.

Then, very suddenly, I sucked in water. Some bowl of dung had cut my hose! What to do??? Fortunately for me, a jet boat plowed threw the whole scene. He had forgotten to completely raise his anchor and so I grabbed on and was sent whistling through the water like some sort of nuke sub. The rocks, some huge, which were pelted at us from the dudes on the bank started to get on my nerves. But, a gear man, the rotten son of a power bait mother, threw about 8 oz. of lead at me with 2/0 hook loaded with roe. He snagged my mesh bag and because I could see his line was the standard 40 pound test, he ripped off my bag with all the flies.
But I saved my bungarolla with the ride from the jet slob and I guess I shouldn't complain.
P.S. I didn't see a single fish. Sorry again about your flies, fellas. It was all in good fun...:bawling
 

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I learned along time ago, if you're not loosing flys, you're not catching fish, But now I wonder if this was just propaganda made up by the likes of you, maybe even one of your relatives? There are some holes and tail-outs that I steer clear of due to loosing flys every time I attempt to steal a swing in the Taboo water I know holds un-touchable fish, but my whole perception of a snag is now questionable. I really need to know how many living relatives you have, Bob Lawless, and do any of them live near Sauk Mountain? I am now wondering if your Family has created the "Steelhead as long as Dr. J's legs" myth, come to think about it, I bet you are related to that old guy that recently passed, whose family has now opened up and broke the silence on the "Bigfoot" hoax. You are a tricky man Bob, and one I hope to never step on while crossing the river to access my honey hole, I'd probably come out on the other side with a boot and leg missing from my waders. But there is one thing I am very happy about, that you are on our side against the Bears, only you would be sneaky enough to outsmart the trickiest of their tricksters!:smokin
 

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That's perfect!

I wish I would have been there. It would have been nice to feel the tug on my line.

Thank God for the jet boat! We might never have gotten to read another Boblawless story. Oleander and Smolt must have been soiling themselves on the bank watching that display. I don't know why, but sometimes I imagine that they enjoy your mishaps. Only when they aren't involved, of course.

But then I think... maybe I should get a life instead of wondering what Oleander and Smolt are thinking. Or not.

Thanks, TDub:thumb
 
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