A fine mist was in the air, obscuring the edges of things. Semi and Horton walked along the bank of a small creek, scouting for fish swirls in its brown waters. A fat hound named Murphy trailed behind, sniffing in the reeds now and then. Murphy was old and slow, but he had a heck of a nose for fish. His floppy ears swung back and forth, giving him a sideways look. The men were tired and cranky from a day of fruitless fishing. All morning and afternoon, they had trudged along the creek bank, trying this spot, then the next.
A blazing summer sun had evaporated morning mists and brought unrelenting heat to the earth. They snacked on crackers and jerky as they went along, skipping lunch, as they were determined to catch a mess before the afternoon was through. Later on, when they became overly hot and tired, Semi suggested they sit awhile on some comfortable looking stumps he spotted in the shade. His wide torso and good sized belly had earned him the name ‘Semi’ from the locals around town. “Time for a break,” he announced as he sat down with a grunt.
“Stop that or we’ll have piglets rooting around, thinking you’re their mama,” chuckled Horton. Semi only grunted some more as he settled himself down.
Horton was red-headed, freckle-faced, and skinny. He was always joking around and maintained a sunny disposition most of the time. “Hit’s been a good day, Semi, but not a good day for fishing,” Horton observed.
“Let’s break out the beer and have a few before we head home,” Semi suggested.
“I’m tired of trying to catch fish anyway,” Horton added.
Semi lit up a cigarette and drained his beer in one long swallow. Horton set his beer down and dug a can of snuff out of his pocket. Then, as soon as he took a swallow, he began coughing and spitting. “Derned flies! I only set it down for a minute!” he wheezed.
“You’re supposed to strain them out with your teeth!” Semi hooted.
Murphy got himself comfortable in a mossy spot between them, looking expectantly at one, then the other. The evening crept in around them while they talked and drank. “What time is it?” Horton asked.
“I ain’t got my watch on me right now, but it appears to be getting dark,” Semi replied. Horton grabbed himself one more beer while Semi reminded him that his wife could smell beer better than Murphy could and would raise the devil if she suspected they’d been drinking.
“Guess we’d better get going, then. She always wants me home before dark,” sighed Horton.
“She sure ain’t no fun when she gets riled up!” Semi added.
About that time, Murphy’s nose began to twitch. Then, he stood up and went over by the creek and barked a few times. ”Looka here, Horton, Murphy’s done smelled some fish!” Semi pointed out.
“Shoot! Bait your line - quick!” Horton yelled. And in no time at all, they were both hauling in fresh, fat, tasty fish. Pretty soon, their fish bucket was full. And night was falling fast.
“Mabel is gonna be hopping mad!” Horton said forlornly. Mabel, his wife, was hot-tempered and large in every way possible, including her personality. She kept a tight rein on Horton and strongly disapproved of his drinking. He chewed two packs of mint-flavored chewing gum and sprayed himself with bug spray, as there was nothing else available to cover up the odor of alcohol.
“Whew! Lay off that stuff before you turn my cigarette into a flame torch!” fussed Semi.
They trudged back to the truck and loaded everything up into the back. But in his haste to get Horton home as fast as possible, Semi forgot to put the tailgate up. So here they went, bumping down the washboard road. Horton complained that they were going too slow, so Semi drove faster, while Murphy’s ears flapped in the wind outside the window. Suddenly, a huge bull gator appeared in the road ahead of them, causing Semi to stomp on the brakes as hard as he could. Murphy bayed like a banshee and Horton said cuss words he hadn’t used in twenty years. The truck skidded this way and that and finally came to a stop turned sideways in the road. The gator looked back and snorted once before disappearing into the swampy underbrush. Meanwhile, the bucket of fish had turned over and was thrown out of the truck where it rolled off into a watery ditch, unbeknownst to the men. “It’s a wonder I didn’t put my foot clear through the floorboard!” Semi remarked as he finally caught his breath.
“Good thing we didn’t wreck,” Horton put in.
Finally, they pulled up into Horton’s yard. Right away, they spotted Mabel sitting on the porch in her rocking chair, furiously rocking back and forth, scowling like a wet bobcat. Murphy jumped out and slunk under the porch, sensing impending trouble. Mabel stomped down the front steps, hands on her hips, and fire in her eyes. As she got closer and closer, Horton did some quick thinking.
‘What you gonna do now?” Semi whispered.
“Show her all them fat fish we caught.” Horton smiled nervously, “Fresh fish always puts her in a good mood!”
