rhonda goes fishing by pete putnam

Rhonda Goes FishingUncle Marcus comes rapping on your bedroom
door one Saturday morning. Says he got a can full of worms and
your cane pole, just like old times.Unc, what you better have is some
coffee!He flashes a bright red thermos from behind his back.
Gotcha, girl!You're surprised unt Ruby's in the car.Sick or not, woman
love to fishyour uncle says proudly.In the back of his ol' Cadillac you
sway to gospel on the radiodrinking black coffee like it's Kool-Aid.You
even get your favorite spot on Ford Lake.Ruby in her lawn chair smoking
steady watching her bobberlike it was her own heart out there
beating in the water.Marcus has got on his ol' ugly lucky lucky fishing
hatan unlit cigar dangling from his lips like a fat worm.You're still
fighting sleep but like the feelof that old cool cane pole in your
hands.Still, nothin but blue gills til your bobber
disappearsand you feel the hit all the way up your arms.Marcus bounds
over,and Ruby gets there too somehow.You all know it's something
special.When that big ol' catfish first flashes you could almsot kiss
his prickly lips.Uncle Marchus nets it,Aunt Ruby's already talkin about
frying it up good,and for the first time in about a year you're not
tiredyou're not tired one bit.