ICKY

Chip unlatched his USN duffel and shook the contents out. Cans of corn, Vienna sausage, three loaves of Wonder Bread, a jar of extra crunchy JIF, two flashlights, spools of braided line, fifth of Heaven Hill, three cans of Cheerwine; a bag of shake, stems, and seeds, and a corncob pipe large as the one McArthur smoked. He lowered his flashlight beam to the bank and shone the light to the water and whispered to himself. He turned and looked around and looked ahead and looked at me. This got to be it, he said. Look a little differnt in the dark but this got to be it. He turned around and looked at the ranch house no more than twenty yards from where we stood. You know them, I said, pointing at the ranch house. Can't say I do, Chip said. You think it's alright for us to be fishing on their property then? Reckon so longs they don't know bout it, Chip said. Toads croaked hoarse from the reeds. We saw the black splatter of bats zip through the air lit by a moon full and bone white. Chip took a knee and began opening corn cans and tearing Wonder Bread to bits. Time to chum, he said.

I held the flashlight to the water. Chip shook the corn to the water in great arcs and it dribbled into the water and slipped quickly through the water column and we saw nothing. He threw the bits of bread into the water and they floated and bobbed and then slowly sank through the water column lit by the flashlight's yellow beam. Toads croaked. Doesn't look like there's shit here in this cove, I said. Chip looked at me and smiled. You'll take that back when you got a bowed rod with a carp longer than yur leg on the line. You gonna throw them sausages in the water too, I said. Hell no, Chip said. That's my goddamn supper.

Chip smacked the sausages and chased them with glugs of Heaven Hill and followed the whiskey with Cheerwine. He wiped his mouth with his arm and opened his bag of weed and packed the corncob with weed and held it to his mouth and puffed and the bowl cracked and popped like kindling taking fire and he coughed and hacked and I held the beam on his face and he was purple round the gills like he'd tried to hold his breath for ten minutes and keeled over. This' workman's guage, Chip said. Get an ounce of this shit for forty bills. Last me two whole weeks. It burn somethin fierce but it stone you to the bone. He held the pipe out to me. I'm good, I said. You're havin enough fun for the both of us. I held the beam to the water and we both stared out at the lake and didn't say anything for a long time. Toads croaked. We heard dogs barking far off in the distance. Every hour or so we'd hear a gunshot. Some drunk buck firin off a rifle.

When the light began to creep up the horizon blue and then pink, Chip kicked me in the ribs and handed me huge Eagle Claw rod used for saltwater. He looked at me and held his finger to his lips. I sat up and looked around and noticed the flood lights on the ranch house behind us were lit. Chip took a knee and tore Wonder Bread and pulled two fingers of JIF from the jar and worked the bread and JIF together into a ball and fixed it to a huge treble hook. He heaved the bread and JIF ball into the water where he had chummed hours before and let it sink and we both watched as his large flourescent red bobber straightened in the water and he ticked a little line up the reel and stood quiet. Nothing happened. Nothing happened for a long time. Chip handed me the rod and went and got the Heaven Hill and Cheerwine and pulled on the Heaven Hill and chased with the soda. Toads croaked.

Felt a savage tug on the line and the bobber was gone. Chip started laughing. Rod frowns over, line just jumping off the reel. Chip's about as purple under the gills as he was smokin that shitweed. Hold him in the cove, Chip said. Don't let that motherfucker get no more real state. That it. Just like that. Now tug on him. There you go. Reel. Tug again. Yeah he aint enjoyin that treble hook. The carp splashed and his tail was thick and brown and green. Must have been a twenty pounder. I reeled and tugged. I motioned to Chip to hand the rod over. Oh hell no, son, he said. This is your goddamn fish. We heard a shotgun chambered and turned around.

Yall tresspassin, a man in a robe and lizard skin cowboy boots said. He held the shotgun on one and then the other and looked like he'd been up all night on trucker speed. His silvery hair was cut in a wide mohawk and he had a huge chaw in his cheek from which he sprayed thin streams of brown spit in our direction. Chip's mouth went slack and he breathed audibly through his mouth. What you got on that pole, boy, he said. I think it's a carp, I said. You think, he said. I think it's a goddamn friend of mine. I think it's Icky. Who, Chip said. The man pointed the shotgun at Chip. He looked down at Chip's hand and at the bottle of Heaven Hill. He motioned with the shotgun. Bring that bottle over here, he said. Chip crept over to the man and held the bottle out. Put it on the fuckin ground, he said.

The reel creaked and the carp ran out with line. The man held the gun on Chip with one hand and picked the bottle up and bubbled it three times and then set it on the ground. Toads croaked. You with the pole, he said. Cut your line, he said. Jesus Chrise mister, Chip said. Done taken us all mornin to hook up with a fish. It aint a fish, son, it's a friend of mine. I feed im a flat of fuckin corndogs every goddamn day. The man walked over to me and pulled a pair of nail clippers out his robe pocket and snipped the line. Y'all two get the hell out of here before I call the po lease and tell em I got two fuckwits tresspassed on my property who try and kill a friend of mine, the man said. He picked up the bottle of Heaven Hill and walked over to the duffel and pawed through the mess of cans and picked up the bag of shitweed and Chip's pipe and put it in his pocket. He shucked the shells from the shotgun and picked them up and put them in his pocket. He turned and looked at us, smiling. Y'all ever gotten high with a fish, he said.