Episode 12

Part TWELVE – continued from last week’s episode –

Could they go to the authorities now that they had their answer? Sally and Rusty locked eyes. “NO-WAY” they agreed unequivocally. There was one more thing that had to be done. They needed absolute proof of criminal wrongdoing.

Flathers was an absolute trainwreck. He had not been this expressively wacked out since standing on the sidelines holding his helmet during his high school football days. As a practice player he was marginal. On Friday nights under the lights, he secretly prayed to the sporting gods to never see actual game minutes.

And then one late October evening… The last regular season game of his senior year… Up 67 to 14 against a conference doorstep (Pike County Jackfish)… There were 2:08 clicks left in the fourth quarter and his number was called.

“Flathers you’re in!” echoed down the sideline. Rusty froze like a sunfish hiding from prey in a patch of freshwater cabbage.

“Flathers you’re in!” blasted again among the line of players. And once more he stood motionless as if the bottoms of his cleats were welded to the green turf leaving him incapable of movement.

From the corner of his right eye Coach Fartwater (his actual name was Farkwaller, but with discretion the boys referred to him as the previous) now waddled into his peripheral vision. Rusty’s breathing stopped.

“Flathers are you deaf?!” glared Coach Farkwaller. “Par par partially” was the lightheaded senior’s response.

“C’mon let’s go, get in there!” were the last words that reverberated off his eardrum. This final command buckled his knees. Rusty wilted and dropped with a thud like a pod of crappies held captive inside a gunny sack. Extravagant athlete he was not.

The smelling salts brought him to… But by this time his opportunity to contribute on the field had passed. The game and his non-illustrious football career had expired.

This was a dagger to Rusty’s emotional state and provided favorable fodder for classmates to clown. But like any resilient fisherman who flinches and misses a musky on the figure eight… He held his head high and moved forward with life.

Sally closed the laptop and penciled a masterful gameplan on the back of a sales invoice from some previously purchased frozen silver ciscos. She was no doubt in the mood for revenge. “Rusty, this is our ONE chance… You need to be all-in, or we will be the ones getting hooked for Lefty’s demise.”

For Rusty… Bringing truth to life was not just for Lefty, Sally, and his own damn self. This would be for everyone who at one time in their journeys had fainted in response to the commands of a Coach Fartwater!

To be continued –

The Secret to Sturgeon Fishing

Hey Sportsfans!

Not much to report on this week but ohhh how things can change is a hurry…

– Last weekend, we were pounding on the walleyes… with walleye season now closed, the focus has switched to battling sturgeon

-It was sunny and 65 at the beginning of the week… today it is snowing and blowing (YUCK!)

Speaking of sturgeon, it sounds like it has been a hot bite. What’s the secret to catching one? Follow Rayna to the top secret honey hole, cram as many crawlers on a shiny hook, crack a cold one, and wait.

Only 22 days until the best day of the year… MN Walleye Opener… but who’s counting??



Hey Sportsfans!

It has been all eyes on the Rainy this week… watchful eyes and walleyes.

Not long after we hit send on last Friday’s report, we noticed a boat peaking its nose around the bend… that caught our attention.

By Saturday, anglers were wetting their lines in front of the resort. By Sunday, the shore ice was gone.

Even with all that happening, the main story of the week… TROPHY WALLEYE FISHING!

The chatter:

– The bad news, the number of fish caught each day is down from the start of the week. The good news, the fish being caught, going into the weekend, are huge!
– Keep it simple. Pick a spot, use a 1/4 jig and a frozen shiner, be patient, catch a trophy.
– East of town, anglers are pitching plastics with great success. If you haven’t experienced that kind of walleye fishing before, you are in for an adrenaline rush.
– The weather this weekend looks favorable to close out the spring walleye season. What’s next? Spring fishermen will get the urge… the Urge to Sturge.
Set the Hook
Rusty’s unbelievable tale continues… check it out here.


Part ELEVEN – continued from last week’s episode –

There was no love-triangle as the press would want everyone to believe. The secret that both Rusty and Sally shared with Lefty… Was that he was unable to be intimate.

“Red 27… Red 27…Hot route… Hot route… Hut-Hut-Hut”, Sally called out from under center. The Squatsnfishes’ and Van Clutterbuck’s were enjoying their annual beachside Fourth of July morning, family football scrimmage.

With Nerf ball in hand Sally took a seven-step drop and planted off her back right foot. Cousin Adelyte was on a slanted route from the water’s edge toward the grassy knoll of the backyard.

Due to a slight birth defect… Adelyte’s left leg was slightly shorter than her right… She used her quickness to establish separation on Lefty who attempted to cover her on the cross-field pattern (he ran like a Tin Man that hadn’t been greased in a racoon’s age).

She had him beat deep as Sally reached back and cut loose with the throw. The ball was a perfect spiral as it left her ear sailing deep toward the back of the endzone. Unfortunately, near the location where the swirling ball would descend, there was a looming horseshoe pit.

At the last second, stretched out with an ill-advised lunge, Lefty jumped from his shoes and reached for the Nerf. It brazed his fingers and instead found Adelyte’s cradled arms.

Celebratory shouts from the Squatsnfishes’ were soon drowned out by a wailing high pitched screech that shattered a nearby mimosa cocktail glass. Lefty laid in a fallen fetal position.

With red-white-blue shorts around his ankles, shredded by the horseshoe stake, it was every adult in the crowd’s worst fear. Lefty had wrapped his unclaimed youthfulness around that metal post.

From this traumatic injury he would not recover, in a matter-of-fact ability to have physical relations. A prepubescent boy lost his left testy in that heroic Fourth of July football game. A fashionable high society gentleman lost his left limb and life in a bizarre ice fishing nightmare.

Perchance, or coincidentally, if there was anything further to reflect on it was that Lefty was appropriately named.

Who was attempting to paint this picture of murder and deception? Was it someone in the fashion industry framing Rusty as a jealous killer…

Was it someone boxing Sally as the type who ran with frivolous individuals? Jealous onlookers regularly looked to break her of what they considered undeserving Hollywood status…

And finally for discussion… Was someone after her wealth? Outdoor fashion fishing women were not exactly a dime a dozen. And Sally was the queen with more than enough in the bank to prove her worth.

With the GoPro chip inserted and mouths wide open… The two watched with eyes stretched the size of squirrelfish, as the true story of the day unfolded in front of them on the screen of the computer.

-To be continued –