The Trip

From OSAD - A fishing trip breeds unexpected life lessons

It was a bit cold for a fishing trip, but he figured he’d take her anyway.

It was mid autumn, and crisp air leisurely swept through ol’ Dan’s hair as he drove the boat to deep water.  It was a cute little boat, white and blue, with “Leslie” painted in black letters on the side.  Its namesake, a small girl with long blonde curls, sat patiently by the fishing gear, fidgeting with her life jacket.

“Are we almost there, daddy?” she asked, swaying around on her seat.

“Just about, princess,” Dan said, “Bit further.”

After a few more minutes, Dan stopped the boat.  Leslie jumped up and bounced over to him, excitedly chattering as he set up the fishing poles.

It wasn’t their first time fishing.  Dan had been fishing for years and was thrilled when his daughter showed an interest.  He’d taught her the basics and she was pretty good at it now, and she usually managed to reel in a few small fish every trip.

Soon, the two were sitting together, their lines cast.  They chatted about life, as they did every trip.  It was their time to bond, as he called it.  As they were getting around to the subject of Leslie’s life in the third grade, Dan’s line was violently tugged.  He reacted fast, but quickly lost the bite. 

“Dang…” Leslie sighed, pouting.

A few more moments passed, and the two continued talking until Dan’s line received another ferocious pull.  Once again, the culprit ran off, and Dan was left fishless.  Leslie gazed suspiciously into the water, back to her father, and then at the water again.

“Weird…” Dan murmured.

“Very,” Leslie agreed.

Dan reeled his line back in.  The bait was gone.

“Fish are getting smarter,” he sighed, reaching for more bait.

“I hope not, ” Leslie said, “otherwise we can’t do this anym-”

Her line jerked forward, and Dan had to grab her before she was pulled off the boat.  Unlike before, whatever was hooked was actually hooked this time.  Dan took Leslie’s hand and helped her reel, keeping a firm hold so she wouldn’t be dragged into the ocean with what he hoped would be tonight’s dinner.  The two kept reeling, kept pulling, wondering if the fish was getting as worn out as they were, until they finally brought their underwater beast to the surface.

And then it was flying.

Father and daughter stared in bewilderment at the embodiment of impossible flying above them.  It was a vibrant purple, with a wingspan four times larger than their boat.  Its body looked less like a fish and more like a whale, except for the fact that it had a hooked beak on its front that looked really badly pasted on.  The entity stared down at them with enormous black eyes, its mouth opening and closing to breathe, revealing rows of fangs.  It also had an esca mounted on top of its head, much like a common angler fish, except this thing was about ten feet tall and looked like stained glass.  A seagull perched on top of it, and the beast’s tongue promptly shot out of its mouth and curved upwards, latching onto the unfortunate bird and dragging it into its mouth at breakneck speed.  Dan covered Leslie’s eyes as the enormous “fish” chewed its meal and emitted a loud burp.

“Aw, man, nothin’ like a nice Maine gull!” the beast cried excitedly, wiggling its tiny little fins, “Y'know they taste a lot sweeter than the ones in California, man.  Cali gulls have a kinda dry taste to ‘em.  Wouldn’t know why but…”

He was blabbering on but Dan and Leslie weren’t processing any of it.  His voice was thunderous and booming, yet had a certain flamboyant flair to it.  He sounded like a deep-voiced man attempting to impersonate a cheerleader.

“Hey shuga would ya mind gettin’ this hook outta my little arm?” he asked, turning a bit towards the boat and wiggling a small transparent blue-colored fin at Leslie, “'Fraid my little tongue can’t bend that way and it’s pretty painful.”

“…LITTLE tongue?” Dan whispered almost incoherently.

He watched in horror as Leslie shakily reached for her hook.  She clumsily tried to remove it pain-free, but after a few failed attempts Dan finally mustered up the courage to try, and the hook slowly came out.  The enormous fish-bird-thing flipped in midair, a loud and drawn-out whistle blasting through the atmosphere.

“Thanks, cutie-pie!” he said excitedly, winking an eye, “In exchange for removing that blasted hook from my fin, I shall grant you any wish you could want!”

“Whoa, really?” Dan asked, grinning ear to ear.

“Ha, ha ha, nah, nah I can’t do that, shuga,” the fish cackled, attempting to slap its nonexistent knee with its too-short fin, “Haaaa that never gets old. Gets 'em every time.”

His smile faded when Leslie and Dan’s disapproving gazes met him.

“Now, now, lighten up, sugarplums,” he sighed, the lure on his head drooping down towards them, “Here, pluck some off, my treat.”

Dan gently ran his hand along the stained glass.  It actually did feel like glass.  Leslie touched uncomfortably, attempting to pry some off but unable to find a place to begin.

“It won’t hurt, shuga,” the fish said, “Just find a piece you like and rip it.”

Leslie cringed a bit but took the advice.  She found a pretty blue piece, latched on, and tore.  It made a huge ripping sound, as if tearing paper out of a notebook, and she almost screamed.  The piece was in her hand now, though, and there was no blood or anything.  It shimmered delicately in the setting sun.  She looked to her dad, who held a slightly larger red piece.

“Keep those around,” the beast said joyously, steadily sinking back into the water, “They’re like four leaf clovers, y'know. 'Cept obviously better. Luckier.  And they don’t die and all that fun stuff.”

He kept sinking until his lips remained slightly above the water.

“Stay in schooooool!” he shouted until he completely disappeared, leaving only bubbles in his wake.

For a long moment, Leslie and her father simply stood staring at the spot where the weird giant fish disappeared.  The bubbles were gone and the water was undisturbed.  They both held their “souvenirs” and finally looked at each other.

“Think they’re really lucky?” Leslie asked, glancing back at the stained glass scale and then at her dad.

Dan observed it for a moment, took Leslie’s, and packed both of them safely away in his bag.

“Nope,” he said, “I don’t believe a damn word that thing said.”

“So why you keeping 'em, daddy?” Leslie asked slyly, laughing.

Dan shrugged and recast his line, and Leslie copied.  They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Just in case,” he finally answered, grinning and patting her head, “Just in case…”

Author's Note

Critique's always welcome~