Idea 77 - Angling For Disaster

It seems like film producers and sheltered intellectuals alike all love those extreme adventure memoirs, like Into the Void and crap like that. And yeah, maybe I haven't climbed anything or sawed off/eaten any crucial body parts. But what I can do is take a very pedestrian "adventure" I've undertaken and make it enthralling via my word-magic:

The bass struggled mightily, whipping its entire 14-inch body against the line that threatened to pull it into my straining 10-year old arms. It was at that moment that I first cursed the Gods. They had listened to my prayers -- my endless requests to land a largemouth as big and heavy as a small Nerf football -- and cursed me to my present torment by delivering exactly what I had asked. Those pricks.

I knew that the fight could last up to three minutes. And I knew that either the mighty bass or I would be dead when it was done. Or my line might break. Or the lure could just pop out of its gaping toothless maw, which could open as wide as an inch and a half and slam shut hard enough to snap a wet saltine in two.

As the the very lifeforce drained from my rail-thin frame, I was dimly aware of my hardy fishing partner Ian, who was catching tiny sunfish and putting firecrackers in their mouths. My fellow adventurer simply didn't know fear.

Wow, what a cliffhanger! It feels just like that movie, Cliffhanger.