A Fishing Joke
by Ken Graham
Since I could think of nothing worthwhile to put in this space this month (how's that different from any other month, you ask? – no comment), I've decided to retell an old fishing joke I once heard. It's family friendly, and I think it's pretty funny. I've rewritten it a bit to give it some local flavor.
It's the story of Charlie and Joe, who were fishing one day on the Touchet River near Dayton. It was a sunny afternoon in the early spring and the fish weren't biting. But that wasn't the point. There was camaraderie and relaxation and peace and quiet.
Suddenly a rustling was heard in the bushes nearby. Was it an animal? Was one of their buddies playing a practical joke? They had their answer soon enough: up popped a Fish and Game officer.
Both fishermen froze for a moment. Charlie, who was closest to the officer, suddenly pitched his pole and reel into the water and leapt up the riverbank. He began sprinting down the river dike toward downtown Dayton. The officer scrambled up the bank after him. As he did, he stumbled and tore a large hole in the knee of his pants. Cursing under his breath, he hit the dike running.
When he neared the hospital, Charlie veered right through the soccer fields. He sprinted through the hospital parking lot, past the Booker Rest Home and into Third Street. The officer didn't miss a beat.
A car was approaching and Charlie did a little dance, jumping sideways at the last second to avoid being hit. As the car skidded to a stop, it struck the officer, knocking him to the ground and sending his glasses skidding across the pavement. With his vision impaired and a small bleeding gash on his head, the officer jumped up and was off again. Charlie hurdled a fence and ran through the yard of a nearby house, then busted through some shrubbery into the alley. The officer caught his foot on the fence and fell awkwardly to the ground, twisting his ankle badly. He got up and hobbled toward the alley. The blood in his eyes made his vision even worse.
A sheriff's deputy in his patrol vehicle saw the officer and drove up to him. The officer got into the car, and the deputy entered the alley, his Jeep pounding through the potholes. The officer hadn't gotten his seatbelt on, and his head slammed the roof of the car, bruising it badly and causing him to momentarily lose consciousness. He slumped forward, smashing his nose on the dash.
In the meantime, Charlie ran across Fourth Street, ducked through a vacant lot and then spotted the long concrete stairway up to Syndicate Hill. The deputy and the officer pulled up to the base of the stairway, just as Charlie began to climb. The game officer gamely jumped out of the car and began hobbling up the stairs. The deputy drove south in search of a route up to the hill.
When he reached the top of the stairs, Charlie sprinted uphill toward the edge of town. Despite his sore ankle and bleeding head, the officer was right behind him. As Charlie neared the giant water tank at the top of the hill, two sheriff's vehicles skidded to a stop in front of him. The first deputy had been joined by the K-9 officer with his German Shepherd. Charlie ran toward the water tank, but the barbed wire fence blocked his path.
The dog was released and immediately attacked the bleeding fish and game officer. After ripping a hole in the seat of his pants, and the flesh beneath it, the dog was redirected to Charlie.
Soon Charlie was cornered and out of breath. The dog was called off and the officer hobbled up to Charlie. He was gasping for breath and covered with blood at both ends. His clothes were in tatters and he couldn't put weight on his right leg. He could barely speak or see. After a few moments he took a deep breath and said: "OK, buddy, I need to see your fishing license."
As the deputies and the dog looked on, Charlie slowly reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, from which he drew a small card. He handed it to the officer.
The officer looked at the card in astonishment. It was a perfectly valid fishing license. The officer glared at Charlie in disbelief. "Why in the name of heaven did you take off running and put us through this hellish chase if you had a valid license?"
Well," said the fisherman. "Remember my friend Joe, who was fishing with me back at the river?"
"Yeah."
"He doesn't have one."
Copyright (c) 2008, Blue Mountain News