A Boy Named Spike copyright 2005 There used to be a kid livin’ in Brisbee who loved to fish, Spike Blahblab by name. He’d fish anywhere there was a puddle of water, he didn’t care, as long he could get a bite once in awhile he was happy as any old blue smok that ever sat on a chinaberry limb. Now Spike used all kinds of bait, sweet, sour, real, artificial ... whatever he could dig up that a fish would bite on, that’s what he’d use.

Most times Spike only snagged a few small fish, but sometimes he’d come home draggin’ a really big prize. Well, that Spike, no different from a lot of other fishermen, was always tellin’ these whoppin’ big stories about his fishin’ excursions out on Ten Mile Creek and at the Brisbee fishin’ hole on Lake Brisbee (those bein’ the two best places to fish in these parts), and he often had quite an audience sittin’ in rapt attention listenin’ to his fine tales.

One day Spike was fishin’ here, and fishin’ there ... shallow ... deep ... usin’ every kind of bait he had in his bait box, and he hadn’t had a nibble all day. He was about to give up and move on down the road when, without warning, he felt a big tug on his line. “Holey Molecule!”, he thought, “Hehehehe, I got a BIG sucker this time!”.

Spike was holdin’ on for all he was worth, watchin’ the tension on his line, bein’ ever so careful tryin’ to keep that fish on the hook. After all his years of bringin’ home a small mullet here and there, he was finally gonna have a catch that he could show to the entire town! And his friends were gonna be pattin’ him on the back and singin’ his praises for years to come.

The water bubbled and churned as the fish swam back and forth, pullin’ Spike along, up and down the bank, back and forth, shallow and deep. Ol’ Spike was a-reelin’ and a-rockin’, slippin’ and a-slidin ... down the muddy bank, out into the water ... still hangin’ on to that fishin’ pole, and tryin’ his best to get that fish landed.

The struggle went on and on, and sometimes Spike would think he had gotten the best of that fish, had it beat, when the thing would gather new strength and turn in another direction. It was goin’ to be a toss-up as to which one of them would outlast the other.

Spike had been pulled pretty far out and didn’t notice how deep the water was gettin’. All of a sudden the fish flew up out of the water and Spike was eye to eye with the wretched thing! The fish lunged and attached itself to Spike’s nose with its monstrous mouth. The kid began to fight the fish as the water rose around his neck, but the fish was firmly attached to Spike’s freckled schnozzola. “Hell fire, you danged sucker! I’m gonna fry you now!”, yelled Spike, pullin’ with all his might to get the fish loose from his nose.

Well ... it came to pass over time that a legend grew up around this event, and the town of Brisbee talked about it for years. As legends go, the fish grew bigger and Spike got braver, but no one ever knew the real story, not even Spike, who changed it up a bit each time he told it.

More years went by, and the legend faded somewhat, but as it happened one day, Swampy was over sittin’ on the porch of the Brisbee B&B passin’ the time of day with Carol And Crew. The two of them got to talkin’ about Spike and wonderin’ whatever became of him. Carol said, “I kinda miss ol’ Spike. He was quite a character. I really do wonder what happened to that kid?”

And Swampy said, “Wayel, ah reckon he done growed outta them kid’s ways uh hizzin, an’ high-tailed it outta town. He dun never went an’ larnt thet home is whar tha carp is.”