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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
So I’ve got this new pal now; name’s Eddy. I met him on the Internet and we decided to get together for a day of fishing. But before we could bond enough
as friends, we immediately had some problems in our relationship. Why is it, my dearest and only friends, that while I was always telling the truth in my
stories, this guy was lying his ass off? I mean let’s get real here: his fish are always huge and incredibly intelligent and were only outwitted as a result of
Eddy’s brilliance. There is absolutely nothing that Ed has not done (excuse me for using the name Ed. I would ony use this name if we were friends, but
we are not.) or anywhere that Eddy has not been, or any famous person he has not met and dined with or at least had talked with over coffee.
Though poverty stricken (we have to always use my vehicle because his is liable to break down momentarily), he came from a family that had millions of dollars which were stolen by his siblings on the death of his father, cutting him out completely, leaving him penniless. He has never mentioned being of
royal blood but I suppose this is so and he will out with it someday.
No visible means of support apparent, I have always wondered why he has not been arrested under the vagrancy laws. A graduate of Yale (well, almost, but he had to leave before his degree was granted due to no job.), he thinks he is well spoken and that his grammar is faultless. Not so, my dearest and only
friends.
But enough background here; let us move to the meat of the matter: our first fishing trip. I pick him up as stated because he has no ride (brakes all busted
up and he worries about not being able to stop). Also, he has no lunch. I asked him about this and he held up my bag and tells me that he’s sure I’ve
got more than one sandwich, certainly some fruit or cookies that I could spare. I groaned, but since my wife always prepares a rather copious lunch for me, I didn’t say anything. He then he begins to regale me non-stop with stories of his prowess, his expertise in all matters related to not just fishing, but all other worldly and spiritual matters as well. I try to get a thought or
two in occasionally but to no avail. He drives over the top of everything I say and finally I just give up, beaten down as a Tapir might be bludgeoned by a
cave man.
Once, during one of his many orations, I began to sing a song; it was “Home on the Range,” I think. But he went on as if nothing were amiss and so I turned up the volume a bit during the second refrain. Nothing. Continues
without so much as a pause.
I had to stop for gas and I thought well now we’ll just see what happens.
When I got out of the truck, he was carrying on about woes with the American Indians. When I returned, he was still on the same subject but apparently I had missed the reservations issues because his diatribe no longer
made any sense. Well, I said, showing him the receipt, that it looked like about ten bucks apiece. I didn’t think he heard me so I repeated it a bit louder. “Oh, my God, he says, I‘ve lost my wallet or it was stolen down at Old Brownies’ Steak and Cocktail House. Not a bad story because Old Brownies’ is famous for the ner-do-wells that hang out there. Frequently, Old Brownie,
himself, passes out and the taps get opened up. I counted 12 guys passed out and asleep in the road early one Sunday morning.
A look of horror crosses Eddy’s face. “What about my fishing license? My checks and credit cards? I don’t have a cent on me, he says with a look of
hatred for the scoundrel who stole all his wealth.
So much for the gas. I mean what I could I have said? I pretended that all was well and he could pay me later. He didn’t respond as his mouth was full of pickle and he was smacking so loudly, maybe I should say sucking so
loudly, I doubt if he heard me. Of course, I’m talking about the pickle my wife had put in my lunch. So much for the pickle.
When he put his hand on the bag to explore a little more, I grabbed his wrist and cautioned him that it was still morning and lunch would have to wait until
noon or so. He then tells me that we could always stop in some restaurant or roadhouse and pick up something. I thought about the lost or stolen wallet and just grunted disapproval. He claimed he would pay; there was no
question about that. But somehow I thought there might be a question or two but I didn’t say so.
We get to the river finally. And when I get out he tells me that he must have dropped his fly book and did I have a few extra flies. More groans but I gave him my flybook. I noticed that his concept of few actually meant a pocket full. Before I could complain, he scurried off to the best hole in the river and
proceeded to dominate the pool. I waited respectfully for him to move down after a cast or two, but he was frozen solid. I told him to move along but he
claimed his foot was stuck in between some rocks and there was nothing he could do so he might as well go ahead and fish.
So I went around him, thinking I was entitled to the next piece of good water.
Silly man. I hear him puffing along behind me, his foot apparently was no longer stuck in the rocks. He told me he caught and released two back where he had been fishing and that one weighed well over 9 pounds. Strange, I
thought because a nine pound fish might take well over a half hour to bring to hand for a release and we had been fishing for only about fifteen minutes.
When I confronted him about this, he claimed that a seal had ripped the fish from his hook before he could do anything. I told him that seals don’t come
this far upstream since it was more that fifty miles to salt water. He was a bit outraged at this and asked me just what the hell was it if it was not a seal.
The words “your imagination and bull manure” came immediately to my mind. But I nodded just to end it all and started fishing. I never questioned
him about the second fish.
To my amazement, my close buddy, Eddy, is already lashing the pool with rather amateurish casting. On his back cast, he hooked a stick and flung it
completly across the river. Nice cast, I said jokingly, but he looked hurt. And so I pretended not to look and busied myself with some lousy looking water he
had left for me to fish. My first cast was actually better than I expected, as my dry fly dropped gently to the surface.
But then a loud splash near my fly made me think I had a strike so I set the hook. Strike? No, just Eddy. He had hooked my line and insisted it was my
fault. I was going to punch him into the water but thought better of it because he would be wanting to borrow my dry, extra clothes and I would probably
never get them back.
It went sour all day. He broke off his leader several times and did I have any because he had run out. His waders, he said, were full and so I volunteered to
lend him some of my patching material. But he declined, saying that he had a small bladder problem and it never gave him enough time to get his boots off.
I volunteered to cut a hole in the bottom of the boots to allow an egress for the fluid contained inside. No, he said that the warmth felt good.
With that, I told him I was going home and I would be willing to take him to the nearest bus.
“Remember,” he says, “I’m broke.”
 

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Great story Bob, It's sounds like something Patrick Mcmanus would write and I love all of that guys stories.
Anyone else out there ever read any of Patrick Mcmanus's books?

When are you going to come out with a book Bob? You definately have one sold for sure. Hope I can get it signed.

fly15
 

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Whammo!
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lol.. Bob you just laughed me to sleep, I hope that you are making this story up and if not.. it has to be one for the record books! The part about the seal just about had me falling out of my chair, and I am sorry that you had to suffer through that experience. Thank you for sharing now I have to go catch my breath!

Mike

:beer1
 
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I think that's actually pretty freakin' scary, if true. I've only heard tales and lore on these gypsy fly-fishers. And I hear, too, that there may be some highly trained lady gypsy fly fishers on the way. Look out, Old Man...
:smokin
Great story as per the usual, Bob
:thumb
 

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Just an Old Man
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35,203 Posts
I forgot what I was supposed to remember.

How in the hell did You come about by inserting my name into this. I have a son-in-law that is almost like Eddy. Always broke and never has anything to fish with. He fishes with bait so we don't go out much anymore. I used to like to take him along just for someone to talk to but lately when ever I bring something up he's already done it. So I don't like listening to a bragart anymore.

But Babbo. It was an interesting story. It makes you think of all the people that have crapped on you/us in all the years that I/we have been fishing.

Thank you. From one old man to another:bawling

Jim
 

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Great story Bob!! Unfortunately, I think most of us are related to Eddie...several of my cousins come to mind!
 

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Smells like low tide.
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Mr. BOBLAWLESS,
Say, I've been hopin' to hook up with a new buddy. Sounds like you two had a swell time. Can I go next time? I won't need to borrow many flies, especially if you'd loan me your vice and some fly tyin' stuff and maybe give me a few pointers. by the way, what's your wife packin' for lunch? Could you ask her to bake some peanut butter chocolate chip cookies for me....er, I mean us? I know a lot of good stories to keep us entertained, and I blow a really mean blues harp. Sounds really good on the river....


Nice work! Once again, I had to pick myself up off the floor and wipe the tears from my eyes! Thanks again for the laughs.

Jimbo :thumb :beer2 :D
 

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Smells like low tide.
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Fly 15,

I've read about three of Mcmanus's collections of stories. Indeed a howl and highly recommended. I couldn't put the books down until I was finished, and then I wanted to steal 'em from the friend I borrowed 'em from! I gave 'em back, though, since the friend lives just across the street and i can borrow them again. I for one, will "Never Sniff A Gift Fish." (One of the titles).

Jimbo:smokin
 

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LOL Bob. I can say I've been blessed growing up. Fished alot of places, and as an exchange student in Europe got to fish alot of nice rivers/streams across the continent. But I have a friend who takes my true stories and WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY one ups them. Was talking about what I had saw one day on the river. A mouse had fallen into the river and I saw a steelhead come up and take it. Told him I was gonna try tying up some mouse flies and try them out on the stream (they do work occasionally to during the summer). I got the long story how when he grew up in Michigan, he and his friends took LIVE mice and put them on hooks and cast them out. They caught tons of over 30 (yes, 30) pound steelhead on these things. :rolleyes Another time this same guy was sitting around a few of us that have been to the UK to fish atlantics, well out came the story when he made a weekend trip over there with his rich girlfriend to fish on some Lords estate and caught some damned nice fish with some bait he bought (from all I remember, it's fly only on atlantics on the beats lol). But he had a one up for everything. Now, must of us won't talk around him. He's begged us to take him fishing, but we all fear the "Boblawless leech scenerio" mentioned above. ;)
 
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Old Man -
I "came about by inserting your name into this" because, if you haven't heard, lady gypsies target ol' fellers like yourself. I won't do it again. I promise.
:smokin
 

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Just an Old Man
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35,203 Posts
I forgot what I was supposed to remember.

Well if they are targeting older fellas. They would like to get a hold of Babbo as I ain't no sugar daddy. I'm just an fat old fart. In fact I'm old enough to fart dust and piss rust. :bawling . Or is it fart rust and piss dust. When you get my age you kinda forget how to do anything.

Jim:beathead
 

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Discussion Starter · #16 ·
On this and a few other boards, I keep hearing questions if the Eddy they know is the Eddy I'm takiing about. No, no one knows Eddy except me and I hope to be able to post a little more about Eddy each week, every Monday nite, if I can keep up. Stay tuned. I thought I say Eddy at Wal-mart a few days ago ; he is working as a greeter I think. Maybe now he'll be able to cough up a few bucks!
Babboes:beer2
 

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Not Quite A Luddite, But Can See One From Here
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RiverFishing

Bob...

I read this out loud to my wife and both of us laughed longer and harder than at any time since we watched that French movie "Amalie!"

(Rent it, you'll see...)

I'm not even gonna ask if this is a real person; Lord knows we all could roll a few characters from our own pasts together and come up with someone like this - but no one could have told it like you did.

In a word....WORD.

Mike :thumb
 
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