Idea 57 - Nab That Trout!

I can't believe I haven't leaned into my real talents -- condescending comedy and good ol' fashioned story-yarnin'. See, folks like Carl Hiaasen have built healthy careers on krazy unpredictable tales that leave us feeling better than fictional characters and patting our stomachs with laughter. Why not me:

Pro fishermen don't often come as thoughtful as Daryl Hutter, but then again this was southern Georgia, where the only things you can count on are crooked politicians and the kind of humidity that causes self-respecting men to wear tank tops. (ZINGO!)

So when Daryl hauled what turned out to be a tiny coffin out of Lake Magillah, he couldn't help but choke back a tear. Meanwhile, his faithful bait-hand Clyde slobbered over the chance to open the soggy sarcophagus, practically falling out of his antique overalls to do so. Clyde was devastated to see that the casket's contents consisted of exactly one ancient violin.

"The hell'm I gonna do with this?!" Clyde hollered. "Ain't got no use for these damn things even when they ain't full o' creek rot!"

Rolling his good eye in relief, Daryl wiped the tear off his cheek, accidentally unseating his trademark grit and a gaggle of busy gnats. "Let me guess -- it's got the governor's name on the back."

Clyde laughed at that -- he had almost tried to read it before remembering he didn't know how. (BANGO!)

This feels right, although Hiaasen kinda has the South covered and I've never actually been there. Maybe I'll stick with my native New England and cook up some tales of backwoods farmers who hilariously don't have access to decent public schools.