“I got the ice chest,” he said with a big smile.
We made our way to the shore and were soon sitting on a big log. Bubba opened a beer and took a long swallow. I could see he was deep in thought. All I could think of was if I had my pole I could at least still fish. But, my pole along with all of my fishing gear was at the bottom of the lake. Nothing else to do, so I opened a cola and looked over at Bubba.
“Bubba,” I asked as soon as I had taken a drink, “Now what do we do?
“Well, we can walk back or we can wait fer a ride. Since we got a cooler of beer and soft drinks, I suggest we wait.” He then reached over and pulled out another drink.
About four hours later we were picked up by a fish and game warden and taken back to the boat ramp. I was mad and frustrated. A fishing day, completely wasted due to Bubba's crazy ideas. It was not the first, nor was it the last time it would happen. As I made my way up the ramp Bubba asked me, “Wonder how a feller makes himself one of them houseboats?”
Art by W.R. Benton
