Ahhhhh Father Day, I was suffering from early mental anguish from the dementia of a twenty five lb snook and several large tarpons at Biscayne Bay Saturday evening with Sponge Bob; we caught a heck of a lot of five lb plus ladyfish to make up the snafu but that did not rub the sore ego away.
I rise at six am to beat the heat and went to Margate hopefully chase away the adrenaline soreness and hit a few snake head holes I knew would produce well in this swelling heat. I arrived in the sub par strip mall with a large hidden bank embankment on South-gate Blvd and went on top of it at half past seven am, to my chagrin a pack of half dozen young teenager fathers and their little scions out fishing with their freshly minted rod and reel that have never taste dirty water until this Father’s Day crack of dawn, have invaded my comfort zone. It was the most dangerous combat fishing I have seen in a long time, not since the last time I went out with Dondel and nearly got hit in the forehead by Dondel ballistic scum frog.
To bad BFF don’t have a Father Day’s fishing clinic because these fathers with more tattoos than a Marine Division were hooking the live shiner the wrong way through the head. The skinhead honcho father with the “I love you Mommy & Nazi Swastika” tattoos were teaching the kids to cross line throwing and such a ruckus that even the traditional ducks and avian that keep the bank well endow in a rich layer of glazing chocolate dropping and make it wonderfully slippery to skate down the embankment to the snake head holes, scuttle to the safety of the deserted Southgate Blvd as they stretch their neck glaring in horror at the genetic misfits invading their solace on this Sunday Father’s Day.
In those golden hours, snake heads were swimming around bewilder by raining Nazi V-1 rockets of stiff dead shiners and lead sinkers from the heaven, several young scions were natural born marksmen, they were hitting them snake head on the head on the mark with their lead sinker and treble hook; it put Safeman, Dondel and even Tiger Wood to shame. Not to decamp and be outmaneuver, I have decided to stake the Beach of Normandy and show these swastika tattoos genius the way of Snakefu (honestly I don’t think they were really out fishing, probably a prison release program for the weekend for father to go fishing with their neglected sons; you can tell the boys were starving for attention). I threw a white scum with bleeding red legs to a weedy shallow hole not far from one of the over jumbo neglected kids whom casting skill were less desirable than a bucket of KFC super greasy diaphoretic chicken, no wonder they stay clear of him. A small four lbs snake head jump out of no where and shanghai that frog like it was his last will and testament. When the barbaric Visigoth horde saw Safeman hook the first fish of the morning, they swarm around like Alaric’s Tribesmen about to sack Rome, cheering the author on to land the dirty water Lock Ness Monster. I think that poor snake head I named Alaric got more photo taken of him that day and he nearly drown when I put him back into the water…they are air breather. When I told the Visigoth horde it is a Cobra Snake Head, they all thought it was great just like the super Kool Bruce Lee Dude….“I want my next tattoo of the nasty bad ass fish on my skin Bro was the head swastika honcho comment.” Gosh I hope these Germanics Hordes not become a fan and joint BFF….Snake Head Fishing Brotherhood will never be the same. Vision of Mild Demeanor Dondel sporting a skin head, my Polish Buddy with a swastika tattoo or I love Mommy on his shoulder rather than the preferred Giant Snake Head teeth are just wrong.
I caught twelve more little snake heads and a small bass by ten am, I gave the kids my horny toads and decide to scatter when I notice one of the Store Owners called some one on the phone. The highlight of this fishy fable is not about the skin head and swastika I have encountered, the moral of this fishy story is the genuine that some young people who have a story life blemish forever, but they have the courage to try to change their children life. Taking those text literate social challenge kids fishing in the great outdoor on Father’s Day, it is the best roll modeling that these young fathers can afford…and that is the truth path to salvation. Have you taken your kids fishing on Father’s Day?
Safeman: Sardines Rule Baby!!!