fishing

Hu

Humor?

Lifted this from the Alaska board and slightly edited. Author unknown. For whatever reasons the people on the Alaska board was flagging the story as fast as the guy (I assuming the author was a him) could re-post. He re-posted 3-time in the 5-minutes that I was on there. Although I found the subject matter of the story very eerie and perhaps even objectionable, everyone deserves to have his story read. If you like it, fine, if not I was just defending freedom of speech.

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Fishing-(Viol-bond-sm-mdom-rough-sexless-voy)

She was sitting there, on the engine cover, as if she had no care in the world, the wind throwing her hair back, revealing her aging, plain face. Occasionally the spray from the boat would hit her, and she would wipe it away with her hand. I knew she was starting to get cold, and that the bitching would soon start, her incessant bitching.

We had not planned this fishing trip; it was a spontaneous decision, one that was supposed to rekindle our boring, loveless marriage. I had insisted that we leave immediately, that we would only be gone over night, so we had left the launch unseen, and had packed lightly. Unbeknownst to her, I had been planning this particular trip for months. I knew that this trip would indeed decide the fate of our union, one way, or another. I had, in secret, stowed a few items in the bow of the boat, a stun gun, some extra fishing-weights, the three pounders, and a length of aluminum pole, with a pulley on one end.

There was a favorite spot that I frequented, about 2 hours run time out, and that gave me the opportunity to come to grips with what I was about to do. I had thought about doing this for five years now, ever since the kids had gone, and we were left alone with each other. That was when I knew I could not long endure life with this woman.

Finally, the G.P.S. indicated that we were over the spot, so I turned off the engine, and let the anchor. For a moment, all was quiet, and then it said,
"So where the fuck did you put the coffee pot, asshole? You saw I was getting wet, why the hell didn't you slow down, and let me get a bigger coat on?" I did not reply to this. Instead, I turned and began to look for the coffee pot in the bow of the boat. What I found was the stunner.

Quickly, I turned and shoved the stunner into her neck, and pulled the trigger. With a few loud snaps, and a muffled scream, she was on the deck, slowly writhing in pain. I hit her again, longer. Bitch, I thought, now it is my turn. As she lay there, I got some of the rope we used to moor the boat, and tied it very tightly around both her ankles. I used fishing knots, as I did not want them to come loose. She was beginning to come around by then, so I stunned her one more time. I found I liked stunning her, so I did it a few more times, and she passed out. Now there was a spreading wet spot on her jeans. I had stunned her so many times her bladder let loose. Glad it wasn't her bowels, I thought.
I used fishing line to tie three-pound weights to her neck, ten of them. Then, I tied the other end of the rope to the transom, and threw her overboard. She sank quickly, head first, without a sound, one hundred feet down. I smiled slowly as she sank out of sight. I felt the boat jerk slightly, as she reached the rope's limit. Now, I retrieved the stove and coffee pot, and started to brew a cup. I had a few minutes to kill.

After I enjoyed a meal and some coffee, which all told took about two hours, I began to pull the dead bitch up. This took some effort, but after a while, I could see the tennis shoes and jeans she was wearing beginning to come out of the gloom. I tied her off there. Next, I got the pole, and fixed it to one of the rod holders that are used for trolling, and tied the pole so that it could function as a jin pole. Then, I put the bitch's rope over the end of the pole, over the pulley, and pulled her up till her chin was just out of the water. Strange what being in water for a long time does to human skin. I reached out with a fillet knife and cut the weights loose. Then, with a single quick motion, I slit her throat, and watched the water turn red with her blood. Then I sat down and waited.

It didn't take long, really, for the animals to show up. They circled, at first, seemingly hesitant to taste their supper, but this was short lived. The first thing to go was her left arm, and then the right. A small shark grabbed her head, but it was too small to take it off, and it only succeeded in ripping off most of her face. I don't really know why, but I exploded with laughter at this.

Then an eight-footer did the job. Now, there were several sharks, each taking their turn at the meat. At one point, her entrails were being dragged out and pulled around in circles. It reminded me of when as a kid, I would catch a horsefly, and tie it with a length of string, and watch it fly around, tethered. The water was littered with tiny chunks of her, and small fish were gorging themselves on it. Soon, I had to lower the remains so the fish could reach last of it. A rather large shark finally engulfed her feet, and it's teeth cut the rope. She was gone, and I was free. I motored to another of my favorite spots, and got out the fishing poles, and started getting ready to catch a couple of blues. It was then that I realized I had wasted the bait.