“I don’t like those grunt fish,” Linsford said. “They sound like they trying to talk and it gives me the creeps.”
“Don’t throw any of them back,” Vernon said. “They good eating.”
Linsford said, “I only keep them so they add up and I don’t have to buy the drinks.”
The Nosenada Club was having our weekly fishing tournament. The member who catches the fewest fish has to buy the first round when we dock. The only missing member was Juan, which left me, Mario, Vernon and Linsford, whose wife had let him go with us today.
“Grunts are interesting fish,” Mario said to Linsford. “They can actually talk.”
“What are you blabbing about?” Vernon asked.
Mario said. “Hand me that fish and I’ll make him talk.”
He grabbed the fish with both hands and held him at eye level.
“I’m a good little fish,” he said, staring into the fish’s eyes.
The grunt said, “Unh. Unh.”
“I’m a good little fish,” Mario repeated.
The grunt said, “I’m a good little fish.”
“What the hell was that?” Linsford shouted. “How did you do that?”
“It’s mind power,” Mario said. “You stare into the fish’s eyes and concentrate. Because your mind is stronger than the fish you can make him speak.”
“Give me that fish,” Linsford said.
He held the grunt at face level and stared at it. The fish said, “Unh. Unh.”
Linsford stared him in the eyes and said, “I’m a good little fish.”
The grunt said, “Unh. Unh.”
Linsford brought the fish closer and stared deep into its eyes. He sat there for half a minute staring and suddenly he said, “Unh. Unh.”
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