Part 3 of a 14,389,003-part series that serves as a reminder that every time one of my kids does something dumb, I've done something dumber.
When I was a kid, there was a creek that ran through our neighborhood. It wasn't much of a creek, only about ten feet wide at its broadest point. But if it merely sprinkled, the thing flooded like crazy. During these floods, we would watch from our windows as a single Styrofoam cup would float down the creek every five minutes. The cups were rumored to be the work of the crazy man that lived in the shack deep in the woods, but that was never confirmed. But every flood, a cup would float down the creek every five minutes. Creepy.
The creek was also home to Injury Rock. Injury Rock was a huge ramp-like rock that jutted out over the creek. When we were bored, we would take turns attempting to jump the creek on our bikes off Injury Rock. I'm sure you can figure out how it got its name.
The creek was also home to crawdads, tadpoles, frogs, snakes, turtles, and lots of other things that little boys hold near and dear to their hearts.
And fish. Lots and lots of tiny fish.
Most of the fish were smaller than our ten-year-old hands. But that didn't stop us from catching them. Armed with bread and tiny hooks, we would cast our line near the rocks at the bottom of the creek. If you waited long enough, a fish would swim out from underneath a rock. Since these fish had very small mouths, you had to act fast. You had to hook them just as they touched the bait or you would never catch a fish. It was hard work, but we always managed to catch plenty of fish.
One day, after fishing for several hours with someone who couldn't quite get the hang of it, I had a great idea: catch a lot of fish, put them in a big barrel, and charge other kids to fish in the barrel. I had been to a stocked pond before and knew there was Big Money to be had in such a venture.
So the four of us headed down to the creek one day and spent the entire afternoon fishing. When we finished, we carried our buckets of fish to Chuckie's house and filled a large plastic garbage can with water from the garden hose. We dumped all our fish in the garbage can and went home for the evening.
We didn't realize what happens when you put fish in tap water.
The next morning, we woke up and found all of the fish floating at the top of the garbage can.
Damn it! Another foolproof plan undone by fools!
So we lugged the garbage can to the woods and dumped the fish. We did learn another lesson from this experience: Forty tiny fish, after stewing in the hot summer sun for several days, can smell like you have a dead whale in your backyard.
Related:
Youthful Idiocy: The Fifth Grade Flea Market In A Bag
Youthful Idiocy: The Great Playboy Heist
Youthful Idiocy: Fish In A Barrel
