Fishing
Well, its been about a month since the last update, so I’ve decided to unearth one of my deeply buried childhood memories.
My dad took me fishing - I must have been about 10 years old at the time – I never really liked fishing, but I never said anything, because my dad seemed to enjoy it. After a while I managed to catch something. I was very pleased with myself. I reeled it in, and my dad helped me get the hook off its mouth, so I didn’t have to touch it (I don’t like touching them.) He then took the fish a little ways back to this little puddle.
“Cool” I thought, now I can play with the fish for a little while before we go home.
Then my dad started clearing some rocks to give him more room to flap around in the puddle I thought. He was moving this particular big rock, but instead of throwing it out he hit the fish right in the head with it.
I hate fishing.