Page 35 of Finding Jeremy
“What’s that?”
“That we don’t go anywhere near it in winter,” Gray insisted.
“Not a fan of the cold?”
“Not one little bit.”
Chapter 14
(Jeremy)
“Try to handle the meat and cheese as little as possible,” Jeremy explained as he carefully held a cheese cube between his fingertips and deftly slid it on the hook before snatching his fingers away. “You don’t want to hold it, and you don’t want to pick over the pieces. Just hold your hook up, grab the first piece in the bag, and slide it on there.”
Jeremy watched as Gray did as he’d instructed and immediately let go of the hunk of meat once it was secure on the hook.
“Handling the pieces too much means the oil on them winds up on your hands and not in the water attracting the fish,” Jeremy explained. “That’s why Swiss and provolone cheese didn’t work; they aren’t oily enough. I’ve tried using ripped-off bits of sliced cheese before, and it does work, but only if it doesn’t fly off the line when you’re casting it, which happens alot. Still, if I’m out of bait and have some on a sandwich, I will fold up a few bits into a smooshy chunk to catch dinner.”
“Well, here’s hoping we catch dinner this evening, or it will be lunch meat sandwiches and leftover potato salad for supper since we probably won’t have time for anything else.”
“We could always have fluffernutters,” Jeremy offered.
He’d have been more than happy to have his favorite snack for supper if they failed at catching fish, though he doubted they would. If fish were in the pond, they’d bite just as soon as they scented the oily meat and cheese in the water. The only thing he had no way of knowing yet was if the fish would be big enough to eat or if they’d have to throw them back.
“What in the stuttering hell is a fluffernutter?” Gray grumbled as he scooted back and got ready to cast his line.
“Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff,” Jeremy explained.
“Do they actually make marshmallow that you can spread on bread, or do you have to toast a marshmallow and then spread it?” Gray asked. “And wouldn’t that be a type of s’more and not a sandwich?”
“Hmmm,” Jeremy hummed as he cast his line off the opposite side of the boat. “Well, it’s a s’more if it’s on a cookie or a graham cracker, but it’s a sandwich if it’s on bread. You probablycanmelt marshmallows to make homemade fluff, but you’d have to be careful not to char it ‘cause I don’t think the burnt bits would taste good with peanut butter. I just buy marshmallow fluff in a jar when I want to make sandwiches. I threw one in the staples box with the peanut butter just in case. I throw slices of banana on my sandwiches too, sometimes. It’s really good that way, especially if I swap out the peanut butter for Nutella.”
“You’re not even talking about sandwiches anymore,” Gray quipped. “You’re talking about dessert.”
Jeremy was about to respond when he felt a hesitant tug on his line and returned his focus to watching his bobbin, which bobbed again.
“That was fast,” Gray whispered.
Jeremy nodded, keeping his voice low when he responded. “I know, right? It’s almost not fair to the fishes.”
They snickered quietly at that as Jeremy’s line bobbed a few more times before being snatched under.
He’d learned from a young age not to get excited and yank; that was the easiest way to accidentally rip the hook out of the fish’s mouth. Instead, he let the fish try to zip away, only to lightly tug just enough to make sure the hook was set. Slow turns of the crank, no rapid, frantic reeling that could tear a hook out too, and soon he lifted his first fish over the edge of the boat, just as he felt soft rocking and the rattling hum of Gray’s reel.
“Told ya,” Jeremy said, giggling as he hauled his fish into the boat, took the hook out of its mouth, and put it in the cooler they’d filled with just enough water to keep them alive until they got back to shore. Then it was garlic and lemon for the fishies, and yum fuckin’ yum, yum, yum when they dug in. If they didn’t taste so good, Jeremy would have just tossed them back in since the true fun was in catching them.
Fish guts and slimy scales, not so much.
“Yeah, you did,” Gray said as he added his fish to the cooler with Jeremy’s. “Kinda funny when you think about how much money folks spend on lures and fancy fish-finding equipment.”
“They’d have been better off leaning over the side of the boat with a cheese cube in their hands calling here, fishy, fishy, fishy, fishy,” Jeremy declared.
“Have you ever tried it that way?”
“With my hands? No. But I’ve watched that show on catfish noodling where they try and tempt the fish by wiggling their fingers around like fat, juicy worms to try and entice the fish tobite them. I’ve always been curious about how that would work but scared as hell to try it myself. I’d love an up-close view of someone else doing it, though, but I’d kinda wanna watch from the bank. Not sure I’d wanna swim in a river knowing catfish that size were swimming in it too. What do they eat, anyway, to get that big? I’m guessing other fish and the toes of idiots wading around looking to go tubing or just cool off.”
“Looking forward to doing a bit of tubing myself tomorrow,” Gray said. “As for the whole noodling thing, I’ve watched the show myself. I’m willing to leave that method to people with way more guts than I’ve got. I’ll stick to a rod and reel, thank you very much. But I will show you my tricks for catching them, since you’ve just introduced me to what seems to be a surefire way of landing walleye.”
“It’s gonna be fun, teaching each other stuff and learning things together,” Jeremy said.
