I submitted this to World Fishing Network as a contest entry. It is based on a true story -- my true story -- albeit lovingly embellished in a drunken beer binge. If you enjoy this story, please visit my story link and vote for me! Please? I'll paint your cat, sweep your feet, shave your cheese.
http://www.wfn.tv/adopt/view.php?entry=995Thanks kindly
Much Suki Love
Why you deserve to be adopted by WFN (an "Entry Essay")Bred in the heart of the Amazon rainforest, my family was slowly being devoured toe by toe in the countless piranha attacks that plagued their frequently flooded fishing villages. Forced to escape this constant threat, they secreted themselves aboard a banana boat where my father tragically perished – mighty deadly, black tarantula. The rest at last landed in Canada, where I was born.
We never forgot our humble roots as fishermen. As bush children growing up in the wilds of Toronto, my mother taught my brother, sister and I to subsist on a near Caribbean diet of rice, spinach and fish fry-ups. How, you may ask? We foraged the dense upper-class High Park residential foliage, picked chard weeds, dug worms, caught pan fish from Grenadier Pond, raided a remote trading post named “Mac’s Milk” and .. um .. well, stole Uncle Ben’s. Hey, there were no rice paddies here. Don’t judge. You don’t know me.
At age 12 my mother was brutally stabbed in the eye by the dorsal spine of a big bloodthirsty Brown Bullhead vowing vengeance following our final family fish fry-up. (Say that five times fast.) Panicking, I gathered the fruits my siblings had bought for a dime and struggled to put the lime in the coconut. But .. our dear mother never did feel better (insert tragic violin here). Once she had expired “Bully,” as this High Park legend was called, turned upon we three children. We cowered under his cold fishy stare until he uttered a wet chortle.
“I’ll spare ye, lad and lasses,” Bully sneered in pirate-ese as fish are wont to do. “But a curse on ye who takes up the rod and reel in this land again. Savvy? A curse! BLAARGH!” And with that he flopped away.
We long fell out of love with the fine tradition of fishing that sustained our people for generations. But I swore one day I would flout Bully’s curse. Now, years later after becoming a tropical-themed Karaoke singer, I decided to test if this curse was a fish story. The only prize is captured on the accompanying photo. [Note to reader: If you want to see my sad pathetic little accompanying photo you'll need to click the link.] Yes. This stupid, stupid little fish. Alas, the curse proved true.
Perhaps I cannot yet angle these Northern waters. But I know I can defeat the curse by honing my craft in the land of my parent’s birth .. or at least someplace Caribbean with similarly fine rum. And when I do, Bully, I will ride an enchanted manatee all the way back to Grenadier Pond, cut out your cold fishy heart, and have the finest mud pout fry-up this nation has ever seen. You hear me? BLAARGH indeed!
So you see, few need World Fishing Network adoption more than I. If the plight of this poor, orphaned, accursed, disillusioned fisherwoman has touched your heart, please help me redeem myself. Please, WFN. I don’t want to wait in vain for you
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