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Here is a very true story that happened to me. You may not want to use, but perhaps you will enjoy reading it.
BTW the last story I sent you about Love of Edith was also a true story.
(Editor's Note: Clara's stories just are so lively, I feel like I'm reading fiction....so here she is again in fiction!)
My husband Thomas learned early in our marriage that I wasn't very good at hunting squirrels. He decided that perhaps I would not be so emotional about fish, so he invited me to go fishing. I was very excited and prepared
all week for the two day trip, checking and re checking to make sure I was taking everything we might need. It was early to bed that night for an early wake up call.
Sleep eluded me at our rental cabin and by four a.m. I was ready to go. We had coffee and breakfast and were on the lake by sunrise, which was spectacular.
Thomas found a good spot and caught several fish the first hour, and then they stopped biting. Thomas decided to move the boat to a place he had fished before.
We had another cup of coffee from the thermos, which made about three or four cups since we embarked on our trip when the urge to go to the bathroom struck me. Relief for my husband came easy. He simply made sure no other boats were nearby, unzipped his pants and raised the level of the lake. Finding a place that afforded a bit of privacy for me might be a problem. The lake was down and the shore line was bare for several yards from the tree line to the
water. At this time of morning there seemed to be hundreds of fishermen on the water. Thomas drove in and out of coves and up and down until he located a large tree uprooted and laying on it's side. There were no other boats in the
Taking so long to find a place had compounded my urgency to go. He pulled the boat in and I hit the shore in great haste. My shorts were around my knees by the time I got behind the tree. It was a good thing too, or they might
have been wet. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked over at the tree roots. Entangled among the roots lay a huge water moccasin, just sunning himself. He looked at me, and I looked at him scarcely twelve inches from each other. My throat seemed to close up and I couldn't scream or speak. I was afraid to even blink my eyes. Very, very slowly, I duck walked a few steps backward before tripping on my shorts.
Thomas had been engrossed in checking his bait, so imagine his surprise when his wife came rolling straight toward the boat, bare butt, shorts around the ankles and covered in mud. After he stopped laughing, he got me on my feet and determined I wasn't hurt, he asked, "Are you the same lady who had to have privacy?"
Needless to say, he never took me fishing again.
Reach Clara by email to comment: CBWEST@webtv.net