Today we attended Alpharetta’s 7th Annual Youth Fishing Derby. My son caught four fish; my daughter caught one fish. I caught a glimpse of a bobber in the tree.
The kid next to us must have caught at least fifteen fish. He was a fish magnet; it was surreal. Junior (age seven) kept them on a single string floating at the very edge of the water. He just kept adding to the pile as he caught one fish after another. It’s got to be embarrassing enough for a fish to be caught in a moment of gluttony, but it must really suck to have to hang out in gill-to-gill proximity with a dozen of your idiot peers.
Attempting to understand how Junior was clearly excelling among his peers (as well as the parents of his peers), we spied these folks for a bit. We pretty much figured we were looking at the next Aquaman convincing fish to join him, but then we noticed him dripping some liquid onto the bait he was using. Suddenly, it dawned on me. I believe Junior visited this pond for several days leading up to the event, lacing the place with an energy drink such as Red Bull. Once addicted, these little fish basically jumped at the mere scent of the stuff, landing in the City’s record books as Junior almost certainly broke all of the fishfest’s volume-based statistics.
I plan to avoid this pond for the next several weeks to steer clear of any withdrawal-driven catfish and / or possible rise of a caffeine-fix-seeking Swampthing.
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