Two men had been fishing buddies for years. Initially, they had met quite by accident at the same spot on the lake a number of times and happily exhcnanged very few words. When fishing, a silent partner is the best kind.
What there was of the conversation in the beginning, consisted of the basic groundwork for this type of masculine relationship: Married? Both were. Retired? Both were. Live in town? Both did. This information and the fact that its simple, direct, unobtrusive delivery pleased both men cemented their friendship and it was pleasantly apparent to both that here was a good partner. After all, there is joy in fishing, but there is greater joy in having an acknowledged peer witness your skill.
Over a period of years both men comfortably and happily said little to each other till one fateful fall day. There was a chill wind, and the fish seemed to be circulating at a lower depth than either of them were prepared to cast. Frank had recently quite tragically experienced the loss of his adult son, a sudden heart attack at 43, he had never revealed this to Bill, it seemed to much to lay upon the pure, clean framework of their partnership, however it was out of this tumult of emotion that he spoke.
"You know Bill, we've been fishing out here for, almost ten years now"
"Yeh", said Bill distractedly.
"Well, I was just thinking you know, we never have really talked about anything, you know?" this was perhaps, until now, the longest single sentence either of them had said to the other, and it was mildly confusing and disturbing to them both. Bill's response came slowly,
"Well, what do you want to talk about"
"Oh, well," Frank said "I don't know... hadn't really thought of it..." he trailed off for a few minutes while both of them performed the unconcious actions of their sport.
"I've an idea. How 'bout we play twenty questions to break the ice?"
"Sure" replied Bill noncommitally.
"Alright, you ask me questions and try and figure out what I'm thinking of..."
"OK" Bill paused for a minute his hands performing the endless dance of the fisherman at work and his mind lazily spinning around the idea of the game he hadn't wanted to play but could not extricate himself from.
"Well, can you eat it?"
With great hesitation and the contorted face indicating he would never consider eating the unnamed item, Frank replied
"I... guess... you can eat it"
"Is it Moosec0ck?" said Bill quickly.
What there was of the conversation in the beginning, consisted of the basic groundwork for this type of masculine relationship: Married? Both were. Retired? Both were. Live in town? Both did. This information and the fact that its simple, direct, unobtrusive delivery pleased both men cemented their friendship and it was pleasantly apparent to both that here was a good partner. After all, there is joy in fishing, but there is greater joy in having an acknowledged peer witness your skill.
Over a period of years both men comfortably and happily said little to each other till one fateful fall day. There was a chill wind, and the fish seemed to be circulating at a lower depth than either of them were prepared to cast. Frank had recently quite tragically experienced the loss of his adult son, a sudden heart attack at 43, he had never revealed this to Bill, it seemed to much to lay upon the pure, clean framework of their partnership, however it was out of this tumult of emotion that he spoke.
"You know Bill, we've been fishing out here for, almost ten years now"
"Yeh", said Bill distractedly.
"Well, I was just thinking you know, we never have really talked about anything, you know?" this was perhaps, until now, the longest single sentence either of them had said to the other, and it was mildly confusing and disturbing to them both. Bill's response came slowly,
"Well, what do you want to talk about"
"Oh, well," Frank said "I don't know... hadn't really thought of it..." he trailed off for a few minutes while both of them performed the unconcious actions of their sport.
"I've an idea. How 'bout we play twenty questions to break the ice?"
"Sure" replied Bill noncommitally.
"Alright, you ask me questions and try and figure out what I'm thinking of..."
"OK" Bill paused for a minute his hands performing the endless dance of the fisherman at work and his mind lazily spinning around the idea of the game he hadn't wanted to play but could not extricate himself from.
"Well, can you eat it?"
With great hesitation and the contorted face indicating he would never consider eating the unnamed item, Frank replied
"I... guess... you can eat it"
"Is it Moosec0ck?" said Bill quickly.
