You Can't Make Up This Stuff

Today when Dad called to tell me the Fish Commission was stocking Big Spring with trout and he & his buddy, Ted, were going fishing. Did I want to go? Hell, yes! This is an age-old ritual of following the stock truck of which I had not participated in a very long time. However, seeing that I've been on a steady diet of fresh trout & asparagus of late, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity for catching my limit. That's Dad & Ted at the front of line for a bucket of fish to stock where they pleased.

The day was absolutely gorgeous. The sun! The sky! The stream! The fish! The birds! 
Whether he knows it or not, Dad has been doing Yoga for Fisherman for years.

So, to the best part of the day...you just can't make up this stuff, as I said in the title of my post...was some unexpected "fly fishing". "Trouser Trout" has long been a standing joke among our family & friends for many, many years. Ted had his limit. Dad had his limit. I needed one more. Dad walked up stream and soon came walking back towards us. It looked like he was holding his shirt over a trout as if he were trying to hide it. He was, although not because he had one "extra", but because the treble hook in the trout's mouth, it was also firmly caught in Dad's trousers right next to his zipper. The trout flapped helplessly next to Dad's fly as he duck-walked over to his car.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Ted had to get the hook out of Dad's pants without cutting a hole.