My name is Stephanie…and I am a trout thief.

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. So there. I am a trout thief. Today, with the seemingly helpful intention of “seeing if they are biting on the hopper”, I threw into a hole that was home to a fish my fishing mate had been stalking for a week. It had rolled, jumping jacked, somersaulted, and pointed and laughed at her fly on multiple occasions. She thought about the fish during her day and in her dreams, imagining how big he might be and whether or not he would have a British or Australian accent. Obsessed.
In the interest of recovery, I must admit that have stolen another person’s fish. More egregious, however, is the thievery of the dream. A 4 pound trout with a combover and ascot who rambles the writings of Walt Whitman as the regalia of his catching unfolds.
Sorry, Maria.

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4 thoughts on “My name is Stephanie…and I am a trout thief.

  1. Ah, you cad you, has Maria forgiven you yet? Tell him that combovers don’t work for The Donald and certainly don’t work on a trout of his age. Tell him to “suck it up cupcake”
    JD

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