â€œWill you look at that sunset? Is that right off a calendar or what?â€ Mike said, twisting his body toward the horizon, enjoying the last rays of sun reflecting off the water onto his face.
â€œItâ€™s amazing, alright,â€ Tom said, also turning his attention to the west. â€œI love the way the way the orange comes streaking out of the sun, like an orange dreamsicle that has melted into happy oblivion.â€
â€œI love orange dreamsicles,â€ Mike said.
â€œThey are just the perfect mix of orange and crÃ¨me; thereâ€™s nothing else like it.â€
Tom turned from the sunset to Mike. â€œYouâ€™re making me hungry, seriously. If you keep that up, weâ€™re going to have to go into this po-dunk town and hit every bait & tackle store until we find an ice cream cooler with orange dreamsicles. Knowing your propensity for getting lost and my uncanny ability to never find what I want in a store, we could be out all night.â€
â€œBig deal. As long as weâ€™re back for fishing at daybreak, thatâ€™s all that matters. Maybe we could meet other people to hang out with,â€ Mike said.
â€œListen you may be single, but Iâ€™m not, man. My wife would have my hide if she thought we were out meeting anyone of the opposite sex,â€ Tom said, putting down his pole and picking up his lures.
â€œEven if we went to bingo with the old folks? You know thereâ€™s nothing to do here at night but sit around. Thereâ€™s only one channel and that has such bad reception that you canâ€™t even see whatâ€™s really going on.â€
â€œWe can play cards,â€ Tom said, making an offer.
â€œIâ€™m tired of cards.â€
â€œWell, weâ€™d have fish to clean and eat if you would have lived up to your bragging. But then again,â€ Tom laughed, â€œI know weâ€™ll never be able to count on that as a source of entertainment as long as youâ€™re on the trip! I can only catch so many fish by myself.â€
With that he pulled a stringer of three fish into the boat. They flopped around a bit, and Tom caught Mikeâ€™s eye. He smiled in superior silence.
â€œMaybe we had better take you into town and get you an ice cream,â€ Tom smiled again. â€œI wouldnâ€™t want you to have a total bomb of a day.â€
Mike crossed his arms and nodded his head, â€œLaugh all you want. Tomorrow I am unveiling the secret lure, and I think youâ€™ll be the one needing an ice cream by tomorrow night.â€
â€œOh yeah?â€ Tom started the big motor. â€œYou do like to tell tall tales.â€
Before Mike could respond, Tom pointed the boat toward the shore and opened the throttle. The last moments of beauty were lost behind them.
This was a fiction sketch I wrote in tribute to my love for fishing. I do have a secret lure. And it works! Thanks to my dad for teaching me how to fish.