The Old Man
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“Why is it that you fall for the bait every time?” the old fisherman muttered to himself as he pulled the hook out of the large bass and tossed it in his metal catch bucket full of fresh water.
“That is something that you of all people should understand.” said the fish slowly, who seemed to be very depressed at the moment.
Fully taken back, the fisherman stood in amazement and just stared at the fish for what to him seemed to be hours but Im sure in reality was more like just a few minutes.
“Catfish got your tongue?” asked the fish who seemed to be slightly pleased at the old mans reaction.
“I know Im dreaming” said the old man quickly. He now began stroking his white beard “Aha, yes. Its coming back to me. It wasnt a half hour ago I was reading by that old oak tree over there. Yes, I was feeling sleepy as I was reading, and remember thinking how Id love to go fishing if my old body had the energy and and thats the last I remember. That explains how I got this fishing rod.
The old man was feeling much better about himself but still wondered why he wouldnt wake up as he was trying everything in his power to.
“Think whatever you want” said the sad fish “but Im still caught whether your dreaming or not. If you ever want to know the answer to your question, I suppose you better start asking before I die this most painful death in which Im trying very hard not to think of.”
The old fisherman looked at the fish for a minute and smiled.
“If by answering my question, you can somehow make me wake up from this horribly awful dream, I will let you go. If not, I will eat within the very minute your story ends.”
The fish looked up and said slowly
“One has only to try for such a generous offer as that. Here is my story than, I will try to keep it as short as possible: It was not an hour ago when I was thinking how my life could not get any worse. I had spent all year; every single day and every hour watching my eggs I had laid. Oh how beautiful they looked, I remember how they would seem to dance around when I approached; so innocently happy without a care in the world. Those were my babies and I had a name for every one of them, all 289 of them. Gregory, Sam, Edmund, Sara, Matilda, Jacob, Bertha”
The old man coughed loudly but still kindly enough that the fish got point without feeling too hurt.
“Yes, I did say Id keep it short” said the fish sadly “Yesterday, the most horrible thing happened. A whole group of cannibal fish came and ate every one of my babies sparing only me, most likely because they knew I was more trouble than worth.”
“Today, I was thinking how there was nothing good in