Two days ago, I reached out.

I was bold, almost foolish. I had a new toy and I was ready to show it off to anyone who would see it.

Hand outstretched, into the darkness. My mind illuminating the way, the way before my fingertips. Moving still, till the elbow clicked in its socket.

Waving my fingers like live bait in the fish infested waters, teasing for a bite. A passer by, an ignoramus. A full-stomach one, and a confused one. Stupid little fish.

A BITE! I've got one! REEL IT IN, QUICK!

The line lay limp like a lifeless leech. Damnit.

Earl leaned over from the other side of the boat: "Shaun, you've got to make them little slippery buggers think they've won. If they feel they've lost, they'll not spend another ounce of energy!"

"I don't want the sissys goddamnit! I want the fighters! I want the greedy ones!" I snapped back at Earl like a barracuda.

Earl turned around and carried on whistling to the water, always the same tune.

Later that evening, Earl and I sipped on Bourbon while the moon danced above our camp fire. Earl landed a big one that day, I went to sleep with a full belly and a mind unsettled by new experiences. Now if only these crickets could learn to sleep too.