the Marvine Special

I finished my triple-layered, chocolate, cherry-pie-filling cake dessert.
And stood up.

“Cookie!” I yelled.
“That was to die for!”

“Here, here!” echoed the army.

“Who here wants to show me how to fish for trout?”

“General, you said the Rossi brothers should take me down to the lake.
And I should catch some trout for dinner.”

“Yep”.

“Leone? Roberto?
You guys know how to catch trout?
Or,
should I show you.”

“We know how to fish!”

“Wilson, you and Lady Ashley want to tag along?”

Wilson turned to Lady Ashley. She nodded.
He turned back to me,
“Absolutely!”

“Somebody grab a few poles. Let’s get going.
We’re burning daylight.”

I got back to my room and was making my bed.
When I put the pillow in its place I could hear and feel something
that just wasn’t a pillow or a pillow case.

I reached in and pulled out the latest clue.
Another handwritten note,
like the ones I got back at the Lodge at Summit Lake.

As I was opening it,
but before I could read it,
Lt. Leone came through the door.
I turned and could see C Company behind him.
Outside.
Waiting.

Fortunately the note was small.
I surreptitiously rolled it up in my little finger.

“You ready buddy?” asked Leone.

“Almost.”

I finished making my bed. My back to Leone.
“Now,
let’s go”.
I grabbed my hat and sunglasses with the hand that held the note.
And turned and followed Leone out the door.

“Your brother coming?”

“No, he had some business to attend to.
And,
he never was as good a fisherman as I am.
He didn’t feel like getting shown up in front of a guest.”

“The fishin’ s real good this time of year.
Me and the boys, and even Wilson,
we shouldn’t have any trouble catching enough trout for Cookies dinner.”

“You know of course this is where I cut my teeth on trout fishing when I was a boy, and a young man. Spent thousands of hours on these Flattops.
Hikin’. Huntin’. Fishin’.”

“Yeah. That’s what Wilson was telling us. It’s an awesome area.”

Wilson and Lady Ashley joined us.
C company brought up the rear.
I let Leone lead.

It was a gorgeous, midmorning, fall day.

I still had the crumpled note curled up in my right hand pinky when I realized I best put it in my pocket before I accidentally dropped it.
Or something stupid.

After about 10 minutes walking, I could see the lake about a half mile ahead. Nestled in a little depression.

It doesn’t get any prettier.

“You know Lieutenant, I’ve got a fly that only I tie that knocks ‘em dead here on the Flattops. I call it the Marvine Special.”

“Too bad we don’t have a half-dozen of them right now.
But,
the worms and salmon eggs we been using will do the trick.”

“I’m starting to salivate like Pavlov’s dog.
Are these trout of any good size?”

“20 inches or better. Every one.”

“You can’t beat that”, said Wilson.

BSOT
Ian

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Published by Ian

writer, neo-Impressionist photo-artist, Elliott Wave analyst & trader, existentialist

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