Pet Fish, a short short story

Pet Fish

The two boys crept their way through the thick brush to the waters edge, fishing poles in hand; these brothers are looking to catch dinner for the family.  They are orphans and they look it, their clothes are dirty and ill fitted, their shoes have more holes than leather, and they have ropes holding up their pants.  Their faces are grimy and show the tales of optimism and hunger.  They’ve been digging for worms and their fingernails show without a doubt that they didn’t have a shovel to help them in this adventure.   Marshall is 10 years old and his little brother Charlie is 8, they are officially orphans.

Their father disappeared shortly after Charlie was born, they believed him to be dead, the older siblings said it was so, and they were too young to know any different.  Momma had just died of a heart attack, smashing her car into a tree, and they had buried her two days ago. 

The family consisted of thirteen siblings; the older ones were trying to figure out how they were going to handle this.  The three older brothers were married and had started their own families; they couldn’t afford to take in more mouths to feed.  Their older sisters were barley managing to take care of their selves, let alone take on these wild children.  They were trying to come up with a solution, as they didn’t want the younger ones to have to be taken by the county. 

The girls were easy, they would be babysitters for the older siblings, they cooked and washed and they could provide much needed help for the family.  The boys on the other hand, although they could do some farm work, were on the wild side and felt they needed to show they could contribute as much as their sisters. They settled down on the creek bank with their hand made fishing poles.  They’d each found a flexible branch to use as their pole, scrounged in the barn and found a line that would work for fishing, gathered a few hooks and snuck off for the creek.  They knew they didn’t have a licensed, adult with them, but they had something to prove.  They baited their hooks carefully with their hard fought for worms, and dropped their lines into the water.

In the early morning mist, their thin clothing and thinner coats weren’t enough to keep them warm and they shivered as they huddled close together waiting for their first strike.  It didn’t take long, the fish were biting, and they were making a good haul.  Before 10:00 am they had a gunny sack full of trout they figured they had about 20 big ones and almost as many Brookies.  They were sure that they’d showed that they were useful, that they could provide for themselves and the rest of the family, they smiled at each other with pride.

Then they heard it, the snapping of branches under a heavy foot.  They just knew it was that rotten Mr. Smith the Fish and Game Warden, he was always tracking the creek busting the kids when they were fishing.  The boys split up, Marshall told Charlie to take the fish and move quietly back into the brush.  Marshall then took off in the direction of the footsteps making lots of noise to draw the ranger away, so that Charlie could slip past him with their bounty.  They thought it was a good plan, but the ranger was closer than they anticipated and he nabbed Charlie as he entered into the brush line.  He grabbed him by the collar and walked him back toward the creek.  Caught red handed with a sack full of fish, but no pole. 

Mr. Smith steps up to the sack and tells Charlie to open it up and show him what was inside.  Charlie reluctantly opens the bounty, and looks up at the ranger.  Mr. Smith then smiles, and say’s I’ve caught you red handed my little lad, fishing without a licensed adult and over the limit to boot.  Charlie looks up at him innocently and says, “Mr. Smith I wasn’t fishing, I don’t even have a pole.”  Mr. Smith looks around and sure enough there isn’t a pole, Marshall took off with those.  Marshall has now backtracked and is watching trough the thick brush, trying to figure out how to help Charlie. 

Charlie looks up at Mr. Smith and says, “ These ain’t wild fish, they’re my pets.”  “Your pets?” questions Mr. Smith.  “Yes sir” replies Charlie.  “I bring them down to the creek every day so they can get their exercise, they be cooped up in that barrel at our place the rest of the time.”  “Is that so,” replies the ranger.  “Sure nuff, I bring em here let em swim for bout an hour then I whistles and they swim back into the sack so I can take em home.”  Mr. Smith is scratching his head and smiling at the boy, “Ok, boy, turn em loose, I want to see this for myself.”  Charlie walks up to the creek and opens the sack, empties all his hard earned bounty back into the crystal clear creek.  After standing there for about 15 minutes, Mr. Smith tells Charlie, “Well, call em back boy!”  Charlie looks at him and says, “Call who back?”  “The fish boy, call em back now, whistle for them.”  “ Mr. Smith, I don’t know what you’re talking about, everyone knows a fish don’t come if you’re making noise!”  At that Charlie walks off leaving the ranger standing there in wonder.  He can’t bust the boy as he had him turn the fish loose.  Outsmarted by a wee orphan, he slaps his knee and rolls out a big belly laugh, says “this is one for the books,” shaking his head he moves on looking for his next poacher. “ I don’t believe I’ll be telling anyone else about this little adventure,” he mumbles to himself as he continues on his way.

Charlie rushes through the brush and Marshall catches up to him, “that was quick thinking their Charlie, to bad it cost us our dinner.”  “Yeah” agrees Charlie, “sure was looking forward to fried fish tonight.”  The two work their way back to the cabin to tell their tale, they knew that no one’s gonna believe them.  But it’s the God’s honest truth, not just another, you should of seen the one that got away story, I swear!