Howdy, worthless worms, and welcome to another installment of The Sadomasochistic Fisherman, the only syndicated late-night fishing program that hurts so good. Today, we’re fishing in desolate Pyramid Lake, California, a barren waste of a place with nothing but highway and desert in every direction. They say the only fish you can catch here are sour-tasting, miserable bastards made hard by their hellish existence, and that’s just what we’re looking for.
Today I’ve chosen as my craft a small aluminum dinghy I found behind a warehouse. It’s about 6 feet from bow to stern, and the only seat is a splintered strip of what I believe is house siding. It’s about 104 degrees out today, so the metal’s heating up nicely. As always, I’ve got my black leather assless chaps on, so I’m getting a pretty intense burning sensation in the old rump. Mmm, yeah, that’s nice. Really grind those metal shavings in there.
As you can see, I’ve modified the self-flagellation whip from our crafts segment to serve as my pole today. All I did was I took the leather strips and bits of glass from the end of the whip and attached them to the grip with some hot glue. Then I simply ran a line through the hooks we used to hang ourselves from the ceiling for our “waterless scuba dive” last week. Now, this pole here doesn’t have a reel, but I prefer to just wrap the line around my forearm; that way, it digs in a bit when the fish pull.
Now, of course, you could go buy something like this in a store, but I think there’s a lot of fun to be had in making your own pole, and all you really need is some time, patience, some barbed wire to punish yourself if you make a mistake, and a big bottle of Bactine. And then, look, you’ve got this beauty sinking its lovely teeth into your palm as you grip and cast. Oh God, yes. Do it, pole. More. Mmmm.
All right, so, while we’re waiting for a bite, let me just tell you a bit about the hooks and lures we’ll be using today. The hook is a specially made German rotary blade, first used by Nazi forces in World War II to extract information from prisoners. Of course, this is a much smaller version of that, but the 14 rusty spring-loaded blades work much the same way. As an added feature, they’re all carefully positioned to avoid fatally wounding the victim, or, in our case, the smallmouth bass.
For bait today, I’m using just some night crawlers I had nailed to the wall a few feet away from a mound of moist soil in my garden shed. I’ve kept them alive, since the wriggling helps attract the fish, but I’ve soaked them in bitters overnight. You can usually get bitters from your local liquor store, and, I’ll tell you, the fish just hate it. To mask that, I’ve got some store-bought fish lure on there, which I’ve spiked with a powerful laxative.
Ooh, looks like we’ve got a bite! Boy howdy, he’s a rascal! That’s right, you little maggot, pull! Pull! Oh God, yes. Oh, you like that? You like that, you little fish piece of crap? Mmm, yeah, gimme more. That’s it. Make it hurt … All right! Well, that was a tough bout there, but it looks like we won the day. And, see, you can tell by the grimacing expression on the fish’s face, he didn’t like those bitters at all. And see the blades there, all popping out at different angles? It’s amazing, but this little guy can live for up to six hours with those blades in. So, let’s watch, shall we?
That’s right, flop. Just flop away, boy. Mmm. As you can see, I’ve done a little set dressing here around the fish. I’ve just put up some framed photos of other fish, possible family members, what have you, and some glasses of lake water. The trick is to put everything just out of reach, so you get the most vigorous flopping out of your bass. Oops! There goes the laxative! Well, he’s flopping pretty good now, so I’m going to manually pleasure myself. Join us next week, when we convince a marlin that his wife has been killed by a carbon monoxide leak.