Saturday I had to work early but by one I was free and decide to go casting for live baits, it was slim picking after three hours in the heat I manage to scare two dozen of six inch tropical smelt, they were awfully skinny than any previous year. I had to wade in four feet of water using a twelve feet sinking shrimp cast net to really nail them.
Michigan Yeti broke up recent with his girlfriend from Michigan so he is now back haunting the local church on Sunday and I have a Clown, Eel and Kat fishing buddy back for our grave yard shift fishing. We drove to Lake Osborne and arrive at six pm to our favorite haunt with the thunderstorm clearing up. We were met with a country club manicured lawn at our Sherwood Forest location; garbage’s were truly absent from this bridge. We admired the nice girls in their bikini going through our fishing spot disturbing the entire clown troop from making their usual appearance. By seven pm we decide all these teenager brats running over our poppers and disturbing the urban Buddha meditation with the water knife God was sacrilegious. We decide to race up to Southern and find our way into the Lake Magnolia /Wellington Area.
It was seven thirty when we finally sight the commando of the night marking their distinctive stealth roll with mitigating concentric ripples in the swanky Wellington Horse Country. The rocky bank was sharp with plenty of cache for poisonous snake and we dance carefully through the evening chasing our spotted quarries and not breaking our ankles in the unlimited rock crevasse. Michigan Yeti fishes the south bank while I fish across the river on the north bank and the bridge. Our quarries were easily spooked so we decide to climb back up the bank and launch our live smelt to the edge of the boil. At nine pm the knife platoon calm down and begin to tease our bait and our starving soul.
I threw out my second cast and when a clown decide to pull my bopper under, I set the circle hook and begin to reel in like a bat out of hell to not have my braid be snag or cut up on the coquina rock embankment and the curtain of the night snook upon us. Halfway through the retrieve, the clown knit my line a sweater of knots and places it as a gift, nicely wrap around the bushes bordering the dangerous bank. I had to cut out the braid and try to de-kink the knot sweater which took fifteen minutes not to ravel and I finally gave up and cut the line in the dark at 10 pm and retie every thing. I should have brought an extra rod like Chris! The Featherback Clown by then had spit and disappears into the midnight circus.
Vampires of the night came kissing our cheeks and tenderize our virgin flesh, the high humidity we have sweat cleanse our repellent completely. We admire the Vampires’ pervasive dedication and we stuck to our. The repellant was the siren call to the birds of the night as they whisper their sweet annoying song in our innocent ears. By now I felt like I was running in my birthday suit through a tall cornfield of stinging nettles. We hung through the rain of pain and delirium. At half past ten Michigan Yeti had a bite and he set the hook thinking like snake head, he have time to play, but the clown pull right down and wedge into the submerse ledge and left Chris with a foul mouth too disconcerting for this author to scratch down on a PG rated audience. My second hook of the evening was disheartening as I reel in almost to the rocky bank, the clown was dangling a foot out of the water and then shake and open its mouth. To my horror I realize the hook was too big and the small greedy clown only have swallow and clamp down ¾ of the six inch tropical smelt and let go; so I change to smaller circle I had available; not small enough. My third and fourth bites were the same thing the first spit the hook as I got it halfway up the bridge and the latter decide to wedge itself in the rock cleavage by the bank pylon.
We decide to give up this exclusive clown site when our bottomless repellant ran out and both our blood nearly drain from donating to the Mosquitoes Red Cross all evening. We immigrate east on Southern and I had to have all windows down, the Vampires were siphoning our essence even in our car down to our toes. It seems like every time we come to a stop at a red light district, we got attack by a swarm of flying bitches, these highway hookers with wings have followed us like Africanize killer honeybees; “Hey Sailor want to ghost us?” By now we have pass Bink Forest trekking on Southern Blvd and I decide to crank on the AC at sixty; whatever Vampires left must have stake through because we felt no more bites. It seem like every living being were taunting and chasing us….you Wellington wannabe go back to Boca were you crawl from. Believe me they were relentless in their vendetta on us for whatever reason this night both Ghosts and blood flies.
The grave yard shift was young and we took advantage at another cataract for Clown north of Southern in the new development by the Airport. Wow the grass was manicured so we did not have many vampires. As we fish on the bank, the lawn tigers stalk, hunting as we realize we were standing on fire ant hills all over this nicely mowed sanctuary. I lost another Feather back as it wrap itself around a pylon, Michigan Yeti caught a nice fat channel catfish and we decided the bad Omen following us till one am bear no fruit; we went home satisfied with discovery of better locations and I have to take Dondel Sunday morning to my secret LMB and snakehead new location in Boca.
As we head back to Boca, we must have been really exhausted drain because Michigan Yeti was telling me how he is going to try using little feral abandoned kitten by were he work as Giant Snake Head bait . I leave the readers to their own haunting imagination.
