No, nuh uh. No fishes today. But look what else I got. In the old farmers pond out back I found him. Right there mixed in with the rest of the bait. Fattest one of em all. Knew he was lucky. See, look at all his luck oozing right out.
I wash the dishes. My son's rambling bothers me.
Mama, yer not listening. Wh--
Today is a weekday. Why did he not attend school?
W, w, well, I was fishing for all day long with Drew instead. School dont miss me. Social studies dont miss me. See, you could look it in the book! Presidents ago still got elect if I were there or werent. Nothing changed. Heck, you barely miss me.
He caught insufficient fish. His excursion was of no use.
But there werent barely no fishes, mama. That aint my fault. I did get this fattyfatty, by the grace of Wriggly Hookins. Fry him, mama. Im hungry.
He holds up a small box. His puny fish shall not satisfy me. He has a worm left. He must explain.
Used up all the other worms, because they don't mean nothing. I told you, Wriggly Hookin's lucky. You can't waste lucky worms. Dont you know nothing, mama? Haw, you probably never had a lucky worm in your whole life. I bet daddy had a million.
My son is foolish. Worms do not posses luck. Roy left us long ago. I mother poorly.
No, no, no. No. I used up all the littler worms and caught nothing but wet. Those littler worms are a penny a piece, nothing. Wriggly Hookins got us this fish. He caught the one all the other boys were after. Pete, Johnny, Tommy, all the rest, and even Drew tried. But they only had little worms too.
I had Wriggly Hookins. I cast him way deep in the pond. And sure enough my line tugs like I caught a mutt with pork chops. The boys all started hooting and clapping, yelling how I caught the fish, I caught the fish, I caught gnarly old Bubbubb! Some big old evil fish from back from before whenever, they gossip. Well, he aint all that big. But big for pond fodder. For dinner.
The boys kept cheering. But I didnt want some ugly fish. I wanted my lucky worm. And right when I get blue, when I reckon what trade Id just made, I see Wriggly Hookins squirming out of Bubbubb's gills. See, lucky as he is fat. And look at the bounty he brung.
The fish is absent. I wash more dishes.
Wait. Whered the fish go? It was right there, right in the box. Dont move. We have to find Bubbubb. He probably snuck back into the pond through the toilet tubes.
His nonsense must end. My son will attend school tomorrow.
No, mama! I have to catch it again! You dont have no sense. You cant let no wicked fish swim around your own backyard! Doubt youd martyr for hump diddlysquat. Wriggly Hookins wou--
I wallop the insolent boy. He sobs and flees to the fishing hole. He never attends school again.
Behold: Wriggly Hookins. He died for our dinner. Up on the hook. He unlocks the badness in Bubbubb like a key, sets it free. Well I can't remember all of it, but it's something like that.
My son and his make-believers look solemn by the pond shore at sunrise: Pete, Johnny, Tommy, all the rest, and even Drew. I sense they secretly hope never to catch their wicked fish.
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