If they were out of season, I’d call it "bacon" too

July 11th, 2008 by fishing_expert

The Montana It’s too damn convenient a tale not to have some kind of unsavory involved. No one busts a rod without pointing fingers and wailing horribly, and the deadpan delivery aroused my suspicions:

Adding to the Extreme Fishing Situation (imagine a rock soundtrack playing under this report) was the oddly pleasant high-modulus “crack” generated when a high-end graphite rod simply snapped in half when my big, burly, sinewy, extremely manly arms attempted a hookset into a big, big brown trout.

…then there’s the ever present food reference – with the implication that downing a brace of “bacon” dogs was positively drenched in testosterone.

“[Name Redacted]” was the final straw, some shadowy figure conveniently unavailable to corroborate any of the stories posted to date, culminating in the “18 hour gap” between the last known escapade and a furtive arrival in California…

I could swear there’s a naked woman in the reflection of that trout’s eye – either that or it’s a partially dressed slaw dog. I think we’re owed an explanation ..or two…