He pulled up in his red Corvette
Salmon shorts and a white v-neck
I said wow you know how to dress down for a city guy
We headed out to a spot on the lake
A couple zip codes and a cup full of bait
I could tell pretty fast
He had more than just bass on his mind
Oh I was fishing he was wishing
We were kissing I was getting
Madder than a hornet in an old coke can
Getting closer sliding over
Crowding up my casting shoulder
Reaching out and tryna hold my reeling hand
Saying I'm pretty saying he's in love
And how it don't get any better than this
I say yeah it could
Boy if you would
Shut up and fish
Shut up and fish
For a little while he calmed down and let up
But then he went right back to pushing his luck
And that line of mine
Wasn't all I
I am reading “The Bass, the River, and Sheila Mant”, by W.D Wetherell, and I am on page 5. So far this book is about a boy who has a major crush on his next-door neighbor, Sheila Mant who is a stunningly gorgeous read head and is considered a big catch to all the guys in town. After a long time of studying Sheila and planning this day, he finally musters up the courage to ask Sheila out, and to his surprise, she says yes. During their first date on their way to the dance, he runs into a predicament when the biggest bass he had ever seen gets hooked on his fishing rod, which was hanging off the side of his boat. He then has to choose between the potential biggest bass he’s ever caught, or his long time crush, which is not very
There’s nothing I can do to make you see differently. I’m like you. I have arms, feet, five fingers on each hand, and feelings. But you don’t seem to understand that and I’ve just given up on trying to get you to understand. The worst part of all this, is she doesn’t understand I’m here to protect her, I’m not a “deformity”. I live inside my host and appear when needed the most, yet to the outside world, I’m just a burden; wanted by nobody. But what can I do? You know it's natural to feel afraid...to be scarce. That’s why I’m here. I protect you from harm, help your body defend against danger or to avoid it. I’m the medicine that eases your pain and reliefs your suffering. If you don’t believe me, whatever then. If you want me to be a monster,
My friends don't walk, they run Skinny dip in rabbit holes for fun Poppin' poppin' ballons with guns Gettin' High off helium We paint white roses red Each shade from a different person's head This dream, dream is a killer Getting drunk with the blue caterpillar Now I'm peeling the skin off my face 'Cause I really hate being safe
Also, he stated that he never went anywhere in the summer without his fishing pole, so he must really enjoy the sport. Another way that shows he might pick the bass is because he knows a lot about them. He knew exactly what the sound was when Sheila asked what the splashing noise was. The narrator also knew where all the bass seem to go and what type of bass tend to go different places. The last way that it seems like he will pick the bass is because he never let the bass go when he hooked it on his rod. He showed that he cared about it and that he wouldn’t let such a large bass go easily. He even slanted the canoe to different angles to stop the bass from catching on rocks in the water. The narrator obviously knows a lot about bass and the sport of fishing bass. Although it seems that he will pick the bass over the girl he loves, I think that he will pick Sheila. He thinks that Sheila is very attractive and he had to work up a lot of courage to ask her out on a date. He loves her long red hair, and well-spaced freckles. This shows that he really likes her, and wants it to be the best it can be. He obsessed with Sheila in many ways. Not only does he
They weren’t as sharp anywhere else; they seemed to have chosen the river as a guide on their slow wheel toward morning, and in the course of the summer’s fishing, I had learned all their names” (Wetherell 2). The boy never went anywhere without his fishing rod and even has a name brand fishing rod. He seems passionate about fishing and feels like fishing is his get away. The final way, were the boy picked the bass over Sheila is how he works so hard to keep it. When you work so hard to keep something you would think in the end you would pick it. If he did not pick the bass than what is the point of even trying. He went threw so much to keep the big bass. In the short story it states, “The canoe shot clear into the deeper water of the stream. I immediately looked down at the rod. It was bent in the same tight arc-miraculously, the bass was still on” (Wetherell 4). In the end the boy has tried so hard to keep the bass on and should not just let it go. He worked so hard for something but yet he has also had the guts to ask out
I believe that the narrator drops his fishing line in the water as he paddles his boat to pick up Sheila Mant because he has the desire to join two of his passions. To the narrator Sheila Mant “appeared unutterably suave, the epitome of sophistication." She was a lovely creature in which he did not fully understand. He spent half of his summer watching this lovely being and trying to truly understand her, all the while trying to impress her. The other half of his summer he spent practicing his fishing cast, testing the reel’s drag on his rod, and bass fishing. By putting his fishing line in the boat he could possibly catch a bass fish and at the same time impress Sheila. He took his passion for fishing and his passion for Sheila Mant and subconsciously
I am my mother’s only child. Before she had me she had taken in the three. Later on I will tell you how they came to be. I don’t want to spoil it now. I want it to be a mystery.
When the normal person thinks of fishing they think of a peaceful warm day of relaxing and getting away from life. Going into the fishing trip, thats what I was hoping for. Well, what transpired in the coming hours could be considered the opposite of that definition. Our guide was a local of about thirty who really enjoyed his job. Filled with excitement, he prepared the raft for our fishing adventure down the river. As we floated off the bank into the river, I discovered how much I hated fishing. This is when my brother and I began to bond. Yep, the thing that finally got us to speak without screaming was hatred for one of America’s favorite pastimes. It was for good reason too, riding down the river in a raft combined with the cold temperature and occasional bump created a very uncomfortable ride. Once the ride was over with, we combined for a total of six fish, 5 from my dad, one from my brother, and zero for me.
Fishing! Did he think her rescued by her future-father from floating by on a river one day on a bed made of rushes?
He was yanking,twisting,and jolting that pole. For 8 minutes reeling that fish in. those were probably the most exciting 8 minutes of my life. He got that fish up to the dock the fish was a couple inches shorter than me. I helped my dad lift the fish off the dock what happened next was unbearable. The line snapped,split,broke whatever all I know is that that fish was no longer with us. So we know for next time “no matter”! how much you know about fishing bring the
I haven’t always been interested in fishing. When I was younger, I never enjoyed fishing because it requires lots of patience’s, which being the young, immature kid I was I didn’t have any. As I got older I tried it more and more and started to fall in love with it, at first I didn’t take it seriously but started to practice and get better. I found myself fishing almost every day because there was no feeling that could compare to a fish jumping on my line. I decided I wanted to try and compete with it. Anyone that knows me knows that if I want something I will go for it, so that’s what I did. I went to
“Dad!” I semi-screamed over the roar of the motor, “What bait should I put on my hook?” I was getting my rod
The air was uncharacteristically hot for a September day, in the mid-eighties, and the humidity made the warm day feel miserable. My grandmother drove us to one of her favorite fishing spots at Pleasant Creek Recreation Area near Palo. I’ve never been an avid angler. I couldn’t tell the difference between a largemouth and smallmouth bass… or a striped bass, a rock bass, or a sea bass. I’ve never had the patience for what I’ve always seen as a menial activity, but when my grandmother asked me to go fishing with her, I couldn’t say no. I was curious as to why she would ask me to join her, as apathetic toward fishing as I was.
The Bass, The River, and Shelia Mant, is a story conveying the idea of the path to quite literal manhood by asking a woman out. This girl was older than he was but he was determined to at least attempt at a date. She agrees to go out to the town, and offers him a ride there which is embarrassing for him, but his pride is in the way and decides to travel by canoe. While they are discussing, she starts talking about fishing and how it is “dumb”. Conveniently, shortly after she says this, the rod, which he mindlessly tied to his boat, is drawing attention of the fish. As, painstaking as it is to have a beautiful girl critique what loved, an enormous bass is starting to bite. Her words are muted and he is engulfed by the creature. “While all this was going on, Sheila had begun talking, and it was a few minutes before I was able to catch up with her train of thought.” Showing no attention, he is oblivious to what is happening and his priorities are completely out of nature. They get into town after a long while and the rest of the night, he can’t help himself but ponder on what could have gone differently if he didn’t let the bass go. “There would be other Sheila Mants in my life, other fish, and though I came close once or twice, it was these secret, hidden tuggings in the night that claimed me, and I never made the same mistake again.” A very summarizing sentence concludes the perspective of the narrator. As a reader might expect him to be
We just arrived at one of the famous fishing holes. Waves rolling over the rocks. We call it the walleye chop. We drop our lines down as fast as we could, like a rock vigorously skipping across the lake. When it finally hits bottom we give it two or three reels up. We turn the fish locator on and it glows with action at all of the fish. My face lit up knowing that fish are down there. We then drop the trolling motor down and gave the remote a few clicks. Slowly the boat glided into motion. As we troll along I gave my new pole a few jigs. My uncle says he has one on. Suddenly, there was tapping at the end of my fishing rod. I let some line out and the fish takes it. I gave it a pull and set the hook. My fish started running. I jerk it back into place; it was swimming my way. My heart began to race as it was inching closer to the boat. I pulled it out of the water and it was a nice 18 incher. Shining with beams of sunlight; I tossed him into the live well. I throw the branded line back down to get some