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Ok Guys, Here Goes...
When I was getting married (not too long ago), my brother in law George decided to take me out for a mini batchelor party.
Now George is the closest human approximation to Dom Delouise; just as large and just as funny.
Anyhow, George has never been fishing in his life, and decides to take me out fishing. Not knowing where to bring me himself, I suggest Nahant. I used to fish there a lot and it's not too hard to take a beginner out there.
Anyhow, we go out to the very large rocks @ Bass Point. Anybody who's been there knows that it's productive, but a difficult place to land a fish. Realizing this, Ricky starts to drink like one, while minding the rods of George and myself.
Fishing was dead, I spent most of my time rebaiting, cutting and drinking. Much to my surprise, George decides to start casting for himself, leaving me to pound the Sierra's full time.
About half-an-hour later, I see George with a puzzled look on his face. I ask what's wrong, and he answers that my rod must be broken because it keeps making noise and he can't reel it in.
At that moment I realize that George has got a WHOPPER. I scream to him, "Don't lose it!!!" Realizing that he now has a very large fish on, he looks at his rod and screams like he's holding a cobra and throws my beautiful rod onto the rocks.
Instinctively, I grab the rod and begin to play the fish into shore. Just then I remember that there is a large offshore storm throwing very large swells at the rocks (like 10 feet). As the fish approaches the rocks, I scream to George to wait for the wave to break and I will play the fish in, so he can scamper down the rocks to get it.
Realizing his plight, George wimpers, "I can't, I'm a fat man!!!"
Thinking quickly, but very stupidly (as I am quite drunk), I decide to give the rod to him, and I will get the fish.
By now, all my attention is focused on the fish, not the surf. George's lack of experience causes him to hesitate, but he eventually gets the fish close to the rocks, between the rollers.
I run down the rocks like a mountain goat, grab the fish (which was maybe 30 pounds) and look seaward to see a wave not five feet away from me that was easily five feet over my head.
Quickly I ponder the situation, and decided that my safety was worth far more than the fish, drop it, and grab onto the rocks like a mountain cllimber...It was all I could do not to be swept away!
I cleared the water from my eyes, and the fish was gone.
By now I was totally dejected, soaked, and very, very shaken.
I turned my head upward to hear a crowd of beautiful late teen girls laughing and cheering to me as I trudged back up the rocks.
I thought to myself, oh they must be applauding my heroism or bravado and felt like a very big man.
Just then I looked down and realized that the wave hit me so hard that it broke open the fly on my pants, and I was walking up the rocks with my shriveled Johnson sticking out as plain as day.
And I still didn't get the fish.
Everybody seems to laugh very hard every time I tell this story.
Send me the plug, John, please...my dignity is still all but gone.
Rick
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