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The Magic Fish

My mother and my sister came for a visit. It was wonderful having them to the house, since they've only seen it in pictures and it's hard to capture the wonderfulness of our place in the woods with a few snapshots.

Somehow on Friday night we got on the subject of fishing. My sister said that she loves fishing, but she has never caught anything. What's worse is that when she goes fishing, nobody who goes with her catches anything either. It's her curse. I told her that I could guarantee that she'd catch a fish. I took her to the Huck Finn pond at Parkway Lake. There is no way NOT to catch something. This is a swimming pool-sized pond brimming with only the most suicidal Goth trout (they're like rainbow trout, only with a lot of white makeup on). They blast Morrisey through underwater speakers, leading the fish to start biting each other hoping for a hook to end their misery.

She ended up catching not one but THREE trout, which I then taught her how to clean. We fried them up and ate them for dinner and my sister has been granted a reprieve from her panic attacks because all she has to do now is remember that she caught THREE FISH, and suddenly the world is okay again.

If only the problems of the rest of the world could be solved so easily.