I Once Caught a Fish T-H-I-S BIGGGG!!!!!!!

 If you give a skeleton a fish............well, you know how it goes. No wait, that's if you give a man a fish. If you give a skeleton a fish, he is probably not gonna do anything with it. Why? Cause he is a skeleton you freaks. When are you gonna realize that a skeleton is limited in what he can and can't do???

 I don't fish because I enjoy the taste. I enjoy the peace and comfort that comes as I sit on a dock with my foot dangling over the side. Now where might a skeleton with no job or money come up with some bait? Well, remember me saying how I lost my foot? Well, now you might have an idea as to where my missing finger went. Yep, I'm not above self-mutilation in the name of sport-fishing. That reminds me of a story....

On a dark and stormy night on a little river named Coochee Creek, I found myself floating downstream at a rather mediocre pace. The mosquitoes were buzzing and the water was reeking from trash and debris.  Something brushed my leg and sent a chill up my spine. Not the frightening kinda chill. You know, the good kind. Anyway, I knew that something big was beneath me and I wasn't about to let it get away.

Being the resourceful skeleton I was, I quickly surveyed the situation and saw that I had no pole. I had no fish hook. I had no string. I had no bobber. I had no bait. Crap. How did I actually expect to catch this monster fish? I would be the laughing stock of Coochee Creek if I didn't find SOME WAY to land him. What was I to do? What could I use for bait? Then it hit me. It hit me HARD. The fish, silly, not some clever idea. It kept ramming my legs and knocking me around the creek. It about flipped me upside down one time and finally bolted to the far side of the creek when I noticed it turned and came for me once again. By this time I was fuming (probably as a direct result of my interior composition decomposing in the raw sewage that had been dumped into this creek). I had had enough. I was gonna catch this fish and I knew exactly how to do it.

Now by this time, that stupid fish had me sideways. I didn't know which way was north, south, east or west. I didn't know if I was going up or down the creek. I didn't know if the fish was alone or in a school. All I knew was that I had quit enjoying that little chill he sent up my spine. I wanted it to stop and I was just the skeleton to do it. Besides, who else was there to help me???

I saw the ripple of the water as it came near me. The water swirled. The water sprayed. The water did things I have never seen water do before. Hmm, now that I think about it, maybe I was just in the water and heat and mosquitoes too long and was beginning to imagine things. What I do know is that the fish was headed straight towards me. Right as it was about to ram my legs, I spread them, made a fist and I punched that fish so hard, his lips quivered, his mouth opened and my arm was soon all the way inside him. He clamped down on my arm as I grabbed a hold of whatever internal organs I could find. He took me to the bottom of the creek and thrust back and forth like a bucking horse. Soon we were headed towards the surface. Before I knew it, we were both airborne and as I opened my eyes, all I could see was this very same dock where I'm sitting today. I reached out and found myself clinging to a rotting piece of wood with one hand and some half-digested swamp rat in the other. I almost lost my lunch right then, but I knew this was no longer a game. It was him or me. Do or die. Sink or swim. Yada yada yada..... I held on and when all hope was gone, I felt my finger dislodge, break off and get stuck deep in the fish's throat. After an epic battle, the fish wound up choking to death on my digit.

 After I drug the fish to the bank, I was pretty worn out. I climbed up on this bench and decided to rest a little. About 30 minutes later a group of fishermen paddled up and saw a sight to behold. There I was snoring with an 85 pound catfish beside me. They sat in wonder for at least five minutes before attempting to wake me. As I came to, they didn't quite know what to say. There they were sitting face to face with a real live skeleton who had just landed a fish that out weighed me by a good 75 pounds. I had no pole. I had no fish hook. I had no string. I had no bobber. I had no bait. So how did I land this 85 pound beast???

Simple. I created the sport of noodling in a little ole creek called the Coochee about umpteen years ago. Now  you can turn to the Discovery Channel and watch people do it all the time. But just between us, I would prefer doing it the old fashioned way................with a stick of dynamite or a car battery hooked to a wire and hand crank....Lol.