Summer had ended, and bit by bit the sense of doom associated with going outside faded. The outdoors seemed like an attractive option again, much to Toona’s discomfort. Dot found her brother one day and suggested they go to the park. Her brother checked the local weather, confirmed that their neighborhood was currently listed as habitable, and agreed.
They rode their bikes to the park and took a walk around from there, pausing a bit for tetherball. Dot loved tetherball but was always nervous about playing it with her brother. It wasn’t that he wasn’t fun to play with or that he was nasty about winning. It was just that tetherball with a gorilla was an inherently dangerous sport. Dot spent most of the time dodging his returns with the effect that she lost quickly. After a few games, she suggested they walk over by the pond.
The pond was Dot’s favorite part of the park. Partly, this was because she loved to see the water. Mostly, though, she loved the ducks. Seeing the ducks made her happy. Maybe it was their love of the water. Maybe it was their playful behavior. Maybe it was the variety of plumage, or perhaps it was that some were rumored to have boldly gone about wearing shirts but no pants, challenging fashion trends and social norms generally. Whatever it was, ducks spoke to her, figuratively speaking and, she sometimes suspected, literally.
Whilst standing at the edge of the pond enjoying the water and the ducks, she looked down into the water and saw the fish swimming there.
“We haven’t gone fishing in a while,” she said.
He thought about it. “Not since the last time the weather was good, anyway.”
“Like I said.”
“Let’s go next weekend, then.”
She perked up. “Yes. Will Mom take us?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“Oh. Okay.” She hesitated a moment. “Will you show me how to catch a fish?”
“You’ve fished before.”
“Yeah, but…I’ve never caught a fish. How do you actually catch one?”
“You just have to be patient.”
“Okay. What else? What do I do with the pole? What bait should I be using? How do I cast well? I can’t cast as well as you can. Show me how.”
“Okay.”
They hung around the park a bit longer. The ducks had moved to the other side of the pond.
As soon as they got home, Dot went to her mom. “Mom, can we go fishing next weekend? Maybe at one of the good lakes?” Her mom looked over at her. Dot waited anxiously. Her mom thought.
“Sure,” her mom said. “If we have nothing else going on.”
Dot let out her breath and went into her room. Her brother poked his head in.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I was going to do some research.”
“I thought you wanted me to show you how to catch a fish.”
“Oh. So…now?”
“Unless you have better things to do.”
“No. Now’s good. Where?”
“Out back,” he said. He walked out. She followed. He opened up the shed, and they got their fishing gear out.
“What are we starting with?” she asked. “Casting? Reeling? Choice of bait? Fish types? Fish psychology?”
“I’m going to show you how to clean your line and rod and how to spool the line.”
“Oh,” she said with less energy.
“Those are important.”
“Sure. I just really want to know how to actually catch fish.”
“Those are important for catching fish. Trust me. Watch.”
Dot did indeed watch, and there was something about the slow, methodical nature of it that spoke to her. Spooling the line in particular had her entranced. What she thought would be boring was soothing instead, and she found herself wanting to practice. Her brother said she was learning quickly, and she went proudly to her room when they were done. She got promptly onto her computer.
“Whatcha doin’?” Funny Bunny asked from her shoulder.
“Research,” she said.
“You don’t say?” Toona said from his seat on the bed. “What, pray tell, is the subject?”
“Fishing,” she replied.
“Really? Do you need assistance? I long to exercise my scholarly acumen.”
“Sure,” said Dot.
“Capital. I shall begin immediately. Funny Bunny, might I borrow your phone?”
Funny leaped over to the desk and picked a phone out of a stack. “Here,” he said. “This is my second spare. Oh—wait—that’s linked to my profile for Sewage Treatment Tycoon. I don’t want to miss the dailies there. Here…uh…here.”
Toona accepted the phone. Funny hopped back to Dot’s shoulder and gazed at the screen.
“Quite a spreadsheet there. Fish names…habitats…rod, line, hook, and bait types…seasons…weather…percentages…was this pulled from D and/or D?”
“I borrowed some table structure ideas,” Dot replied. “Who knew so many hobbies resembled fishing?”
“It’s uncanny. What’s with the references to dice rolls?”
“I should probably delete those,” Dot replied. “Ooh—here we go.”
She jotted down the stats for the latest rod and reel.
“Well, I’m inspired,” Funny Bunny declared. “I’ll get right on the research myself. Lots of fishing sims to tackle. I’ll get back to you.”
“Okay,” Dot said absently.
By the time Dot decided she had done enough research, her eyes were fairly tired, and she was once again annoyed to find that so much time had passed even while she wasn’t looking at a clock. She shut her computer down and turned in.
Over the next few days, her brother spent an hour or two each day showing her how to take care of and assemble her rod, reel, and line. Much of it seemed obvious once it was explained, but she struggled with spooling the line. However careful she was, she managed somehow to end up with all manner of convoluted knots and tangles. It was rather frustrating.
After a little while practicing with spooling the line, she looked over at a rod from the shed that looked very different from the one in her hands.
“Can I try that one?” she asked.
“That one’s for fly fishing,” her brother replied. “It’s an entirely different technique. I can show you for the next time we go fishing, if you want.”
“Fly fishing? What’s that?”
“It’s fishing using flies.”
“Oh. I bet it’s pretty gross getting them on the hook.”
“Definitely. Guts everywhere. It’s really hard with the gnats. You can stab yourself getting one of those on.” He laughed at her look of disgust. “You usually use fake flies,” he said. “The fish don’t know the difference.”
“Oh. Can I try?”
“Maybe next time. You have enough to learn with a standard rod and reel. I don’t want to teach you too much at once.”
“Okay,” Dot agreed with some reluctance. She figured her brother probably had a point.
That night she did some research on fly fishing, however, and what she found just left her all the more intrigued. She saved several links and images and promised herself her research had only just begun. She went to bed imagining synthetic flies making synthetic buzzing noises for her at the end of her line as she whipped it deftly about the surface of the water, grinning nefariously, awaiting the fish foolish enough to take the bait.
At last Friday evening came, and it looked like they really were going fishing the next day. It was happening. Excitement filled her stomach like a hive of excited little bees. With her brother, she practiced the finer points of casting using a hookless line. She ate her dinner that night with relish—dill relish, which went wonderfully with her hot dogs—and she ate it enthusiastically.
Back in her room, she double-checked that she had what she needed for the next day and began unwinding. Toona approached.
“I’m ready to report on my research,” he said.
“Oh,” Dot replied. “I forgot you were doing research. What did you find?”
“I did a thorough review of the available literature, including Moby Dick, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, The Old Man and the Sea, and One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish. Of those, I found the writings of Dr. Geisel most instructive. I particularly appreciated his use of both quantitative and qualitative perspectives on the subject.”
“Okay. What did you learn about how to catch fish?”
“Oh, um, well…that depends. Will you be doing much whaling?”
“None. It’s a lake.”
“Yes, of course. A shame. I learned so much about whaling. So much. I also learned the perils of fishing in shark-infested waters.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“Oh. Hm. Not fighting giant squid, either, then?”
“No, probably not.”
“Right, yes, of course. Well, I have at least confirmed that there are many kinds of fish. Though on reflection I didn’t see instructions on catching them. I’ll have to reread that one. It was confusing in parts.”
“Thank you, Toona.”
“Of course, Dot. I am happy to help.”
Dot turned to Funny Bunny. “Did you find anything useful?”
“I want you to know I worked hard on this one,” Funny Bunny said. “I’ve done quite a bit of virtual fishing in the last week, and you know I’m not much for bragging, but I’d say I’m a master angler by now. Plus I rescued half a dozen princesses who all go by the same name and spent several hours each as a bandit and a pirate, so, yeah, I’ve done a lot this week, thank you very much. So, what control style will you be using tomorrow? Traditional directional buttons and action buttons? Motion controls? Touch screen?”
“I’m using an actual rod and reel,” Dot replied. “This is real fishing.”
“Oh, cool,” Funny Bunny replied, impressed. “Full-on analog. That’s advanced. What’s the POV here? Will you be able to see the lakebed around the hook, or are we going with a player-centered view?”
“Uh…I’ll just see the surface of the lake, I think. Unless the water there is really clear.”
“Oh. Really hard-core, there. I didn’t play anything quite that advanced, but I bet I could figure it out. So how do you know you’ve hooked a fish, then? Does the rod make a chime or something?”
“I might feel a tug. My brother says to keep the line tight and reel it in steadily at that point.”
“With no green/yellow/red tension meter to guide you, I’m guessing.”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Wicked hard-core. Best of luck.”
“Thanks.”
Dot looked over at her frog, who had been silent the whole time. “Frog, any ideas on how to catch a fish?”
Frog seemed hesitant. “I don’t know. I’m a bit worried about some of the specifics here.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“Well…mainly just one thing. Do those hooks hurt? When the fish bite them?”
Dot thought. “I don’t know. I suppose I could ask them. I don’t know if they’ll answer.”
“What will you do if you catch one?”
“Clean it and take it home to eat. My brother said he’d show me how. I think I have the idea already. You need a really thin knife so that—“
“No, that’s alright,” Frog said. “I don’t need to know the rest of that sentence. I don’t have any suggestions. Just have fun tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Frog. Are you coming tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I think so. It’ll be kinda nice to get into some real water for a change. I need to brush up on my survival skills, though.”
“Is there dangerous stuff at that lake?”
“For a frog, there’s dangerous stuff everywhere.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“No worries. We’re getting up early, right?”
“Right. Dark and early. Four o’clock.”
“Noted. I’ll be ready to sing at that time.”
“Thanks.”
Dot spent a bit more time getting ready and a bit more time researching fishing techniques, and at last she could barely keep her eyes open and went to bed.
The next morning, right on schedule, her alarm went off, and her frog began to sing. Dot put the alarm on snooze, but her frog just kept singing. A minute later, Dot raised her head, exclaimed, “I’m going fishing!” and rushed to the shower.
The rest of the morning was a somewhat confused mess of getting ready and making sure all the needed gear was in the car. At almost the last moment, Dot grabbed the fly fishing rod and flies and stowed them with the rest. Toona, Funny Bunny, and Frog managed to hop into the car right before Dot, her mom, and her brother set off toward the lake.
It was truly a perfect day to be at the lake. The sky was mostly clear with the occasional puffy cloud for variety, slightly pink in the light of the rising sun. The air was cool but not too cold. Best of all, a gentle breeze blew, just enough to liven up the air without blowing all their things away, chilling them, or frizzing anyone’s hair. Dot breathed the fresh air and smiled. A sneeze beside her reminder her that her companions were also there.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do some fishing.”
She, her mother, and her brother trudged to the edge of the lake, toting their rods, chairs, and other gear, and found a relatively flat space to set up. Dot gazed out at the lake another moment and then went to the tackle box to bait her hook. Slightly uncomfortably but with determination, she put fish eggs and glittering rainbow paste on her hook, rinsed her fingers, and prepared to cast her line. She drew the rod back, heard a whirr and an exclamation from her brother, and turned to look back. The hook had landed in the rocks fifteen feet behind her.
“Sorry,” she said, and she proceeded to reel in the line.
Her next several casts were better, but it took her eight more attempts to get the hook in the water, and it didn’t go quite as far out as she had hoped. She let it sit there a bit anyway before reeling it in. Once it was in, she required five more attempts to get the hook out far enough in the right direction that she felt she could leave it there. She watched her bobber intently, afraid to blink for fear of missing the first sign of a biting fish.
Toona, Funny Bunny, and Frog made their own way to the edge of the water and stood there uncertainly.
“Well,” said Frog to the other two, “now what?”
Funny Bunny gazed out at the water with the spaces in his shoelace knot head where eyes would have gone if he had had any. “I think we can do this,” he said.
Toona nodded. “Quite so. Yes, well said, my dear bunny. But how shall we get a rod?”
Funny Bunny eyed the set Dot and her family had brought. “Using one of those is out of the question. We wouldn’t be able to use one of those all working together. We’ll have to think a bit outside the box.”
“Oh, yes,” Toona agreed. “A box would be most unsuitable. It would be unwieldy and short-ranged as a scoop, and it would get too soggy if it were cardboard. We shall have to use something else.”
“Maybe we could make our own rod and line,” Frog suggested. “I see a lot of sticks lying around.”
“Capital idea!” Toona exclaimed. “With stick in hand, we need but string, hook and bait!”
He and Frog stared at Funny Bunny, then, and the shoestring bunny grew uncomfortable.
“This conversation better not be headed where I think it is,” he said.
Toona spoke up. “Perhaps you could sneak into their tackle box and find some extra line,” he suggested.
“Oh, sure,” said Funny Bunny. “That’s fine. I might be able to get us a hook and bait as well. Wait here.”
Funny Bunny slunk along the rocky shoreline, darting from rock to rock, very pleased with his stealthiness. He hummed the Mission Impossible theme under his breath. When he reached the tackle box, he slipped in and took stock of the contents. The trick, as always, was how best to carry it all using two shoestring arms and their lace caps. The hook and bait were the easy parts, he realized. The line would be tricky. But then…yes. Yes, a plan. He began twirling line around his arms. It was awkward at first but got easier as he went. Once he decided he had enough, he pondered how to cut the line. The thought that he should have planned ahead floated by, and he batted it away. He had this. He couldn’t wield the scissors, but clever management of the barb in a hook set the line free. He emerged from the box festooned with bait and entwined with line, carrying the hook. He made his way to the others as quickly as he could.
“Got it!” he said.
“Great!” said Toona. “I found us a nice stick here. Now to attach the line.”
Toona and Frog worked together to unravel the line around Funny Bunny, they attached the line to the stick and the hook to the line, they baited the hook, and it only remained to decide who would cast the line.
“You should do it,” Funny Bunny said to Toona.
“Are you sure?” Toona asked. “You did all that training.”
“You’re stronger and have the better grip,” Funny Bunny said. “Besides, I never trained on this device. Totally buttonless. I think you’ll do fine.”
“Okay, here goes,” Toona said. He swung back with the stick and then swung forward. The line followed the momentum of the stick, at last pulling the hook forward a bit. Funny Bunny and Frog looked on.
“A good first try,” Frog said.
“Sure,” Funny Bunny said. “At this rate, we’ll have it out in the center of the pond some time next week. Frog, maybe I underestimated you. You could have really strong arms after that time you had to hold up Zoyla’s magic wand all day.”
“I prefer not to speak of that day,” Frog replied.
“Right, okay,” said Funny Bunny. “In that case, how about this. Toona, try it from that tall rock over there.”
“You got it.”
Toona sauntered over to the rock in question, which jutted out over the lake, clambered onto it, carefully stepped to the edge, and cast the line into the lake.
Frog watched. “Now what?”
Toona laughed gregariously. “Now, my amphibious friend, we wait.”
“Cool,” said Funny Bunny. “I’ll just tend to my sims while we do that.”
Yet again, Dot saw the bobber go down, and yet again, with some excitement, though less than the previous couple of times, she started to reel in her line, trying to keep the tension. The line came in maybe a bit too easily at first, but then she definitely began to struggle. Past the reflective surface of the somewhat murky lake, she couldn’t tell what was going on down there, but this had to be a pretty big one. Her brother took notice of her struggle and moved closer to give advice. She couldn’t reel it in at all. He thought a moment.
“I think you’re snagged on the bottom.”
“What? But the bobber went down. There was a fish.”
There must have been a fish. But oh—what a stubborn fish it must be if it was still out there. She stopped pulling, and nothing happened. She pulled, and the line was stuck. A very stubborn fish holding its ground? No, she thought, her hook was probably snagged on the bottom. With a bit of finagling and her brother’s help, she got the hook unstuck and pulled it out of the water to see only weeds hanging from it. Her bait was gone.
Her brother eyed the hook. “A fish might have taken the bait. It just got away before you could reel it in.”
“How did it do that? Is it some sort of ninja fish or something?”
“I don’t know. It’s happened to me before. Just bait your hook and try again, and try to be quick when you see a bite.”
“I might have to tape my eyes open,” she said, “so that I don’t miss it by blinking.”
“Just keep trying.”
Frustrated but determined, she cast her line again until it went the right direction a decent distance and waited.
Toona gazed severely at the water. “Here, fishy fishy fishy,” he called.
Funny Bunny glanced up from his phone. “Do you really need to do that?”
“It’s the Henson method,” Toona replied. “It’s scientifically proven. I am a bear of science.”
“If you say so. I didn’t really appreciate how long this was going to take. Those sims are highly misleading. HIGHLY MISLEADING!”
Funny Bunny held up his phone and shook it angrily for a moment.
Frog spoke up. “Maybe I can help.”
“How’s that?” asked Funny Bunny.
“Well, I have gills. I could get in there and look around, ask around, see where the fish are hanging out, maybe get a feel for their bait preferences.”
Toona nodded. “Yes. Yes, capital idea. I like it.”
“Okay!” Frog shouted, hopping up and down. “Now to survey the depths!”
He dove into the water and gazed about with his frog eyes. It wasn’t long before he spotted a fish.”
“Hello, Sir or Madam,” said the frog. “Do you have time for a quick survey to benefit science?”
The fish stared at him and meandered away.
“Oh, well,” said Frog. “That’s how it goes. Oh! Hello, Sir or Madam. Have a minute?”
Dot reeled her line in again to see that her bait had once more disappeared. “I think the fish are on to us,” she said.
Her brother looked over. “Did you get it on there right?”
“Yes. You watched me.”
“Make sure you pull once you see that bobber go.”
“I have been. I’m doing everything right.”
“If that were true, you’d probably have some fish now, but all you need is to practice and be patient.”
That sounded like generic advice to Dot, but she prepared to cast her line again nonetheless. As she glanced about, however, her eyes fell upon the fly fishing rod, and she decided it might be time for a change. She took her rod over to where the tackle box and their other gear and supplies sat and laid the rod down gently. As she approached the fly fishing rod, it seemed as though the world around her grew a little quieter save for an almost indiscernible hum. She paused. That was a bit eerie. She reached out with her hand, and the hum intensified. She stopped again. While she waited, the humming paused for a moment, she heard what sounded like someone clearing their throat, and the hum resumed. She grabbed the rod.
A ripple moved from that hand through the air in all directions, then. She lifted the rod, and energy seemed to surge within her. She could hear little sounds around her: a breath of wind blowing through the grass; the idle gossip of insects; the movement of the water in the lake; what sounded oddly like a survey being administered; and the fish. Oh, yes, she could hear the fish. They were out there, and she was going to catch one. From her memory of her research, she attached the fly, and then she went to the waiting water. The rod was an extension of her arm. She had read the basics just days before, but now she felt as though she’d known how to do this all her life. Effortlessly, she cast the line, and the fly danced on the surface of the water.
Down below the surface, Frog continued his survey of the denizens of the depths. Few had given him the time of day, and his data were far too thin for him to give up. He swam a little deeper and spotted a nice big-looking fish. He hustled over and began his pitch.
“Good morning, Sir or Madam,” he said. “Got a minute to take a survey?”
The fish eyed him with seeming indifference. “Why not?”
“Excellent. First, have you been a resident here for a while?”
“All my life so far.”
That wasn’t a very specific answer, but good enough. Frog pressed on.
“Do you typically eat mostly in the evening, the night, the morning, or the day?”
“I dunno. Whenever I’m hungry.”
“Ah…okay. What foods do you generally prefer?”
“Well, insects are good…smaller fish, sometimes…frogs…”
It occurred to Frog he might have made a mistake. “You don’t say. Well, I think I have what I need. Have a good day.”
“That was short. Must you be going? I’d love it if you stayed for breakfast.”
Frog eyed the surface. It seemed far away. “At least give me a headstart?”
“I’ll count to ten.”
Frog swam away in earnest. The fish counted.
“One…five…ten.”
The chase was on. Frog swam as quickly as he could. It was bad enough that he barely had a lead, but that counting joke was such a tired old chestnut.
“That one’s already been done!” he shouted, but the fish didn’t seem bothered at all by the cliché. Frog had time to regret not staying in shape before he saw the movement on the surface. A neon yellow fly danced there. Rather out-of-season color. Could it be? It must. Dot was using her fly. This was his one chance. He tried to guess roughly where the fly would be in five seconds and aimed for that spot. He got lucky. As he broke through the surface of the water, the fly was there, and he sent out his tongue just as the fish broke through the surface of the water behind him and closed in, mouth agape. Frog latched onto the fly. The fish’s mouth enveloped him. The fish closed its mouth just as it reached the fly. Without hesitation, Dot pulled the fish in.
“Got one!” she said triumphantly.
The fish took a moment to realize what had happened. “So…let’s talk about this,” he said.
Dot’s forehead wrinkled. “How can you talk? You have no lungs.”
A voice came from inside the fish. “Let’s not spend too much time talking fish anatomy,” said Frog. “Get me out of here!”
“Did you eat my frog?” Dot asked.
“Oh, is he with you?” asked the fish. “I had no idea.”
“Let him go, please.”
“I don’t see much of an incentive just now.”
Dot studied the fish. “Largemouth bass. You’re invasive.”
“Rude,” said the fish. “It’s not like I moved here intentionally.”
Frog’s voice came again. “We’re getting off-topic here.”
“Agreed,” the fish agreed. “Little girl, I demand to be put back into the water.”
“No,” Dot replied. “You ate my friend.”
The fish considered the statement. “Okay,” he said. “How about let’s just agree there’s been wrong done on both sides and just go our separate ways.”
“Only if you let my friend go.”
The fish hesitated. “Deal. Okay. Now just put me in the water.”
“Wait. How do I know you’ll keep your end? Let Frog go now, and then I’ll put you in the water.”
“How do I know you’ll keep your end?”
Dot looked around. “Funny Bunny!”
Funny Bunny looked up from his game, closed the app, and walked over.
“What’s up, Dot?”
“I need a contract. You’re Zoyla’s in-house counsel. Can you whip something up?”
“What’s the situation?”
Dot gave the story so far.
“Ah,” said Funny Bunny. “I think that falls under the category of hostage exchange. We have a contract for that.”
“Just ready to go?”
“Oh, yeah. Zoyla likes to be prepared for anything. Only used this form a few times before, though.” He searched his phone. “There it is. Okay. I’m guessing there are no tax records or address for the fish, so we’ll have to improvise here. Fish, do you consent to have your photo taken for identification purposes?”
“I do,” said the fish.
“Very good. Hold still.”
“No problem. Not like I’m running out of air or anything.”
Funny Bunny snapped the picture. “Okay, just one second…okay. Here we go. I’ll need you to read through this and then sign.”
The fish wiggled and flapped his fins. “I’m a bit light on fingers here.”
“Right.”
Funny Bunny took a stylus from a pocket no one could quite see and assisted the fish. The fish read through the contract and signed. Funny Bunny passed the phone to Dot, who read and signed the contract.
“Okay,” said the fish. “Now please put me in the water. It’s best we do it there.”
Dot looked over at Funny Bunny. “Can we enforce it?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Funny Bunny. “No one double-crosses D&Z. Hmm. That sounded somewhat sinister. I mean that no one ever, ever double-crosses D&Z.”
Dot took the bass to the water, Frog swam out of the mouth and to the shore, and the fish swam away.
“That was my first fish, and I let it go,” Dot said.
“It’s alright,” said Frog. “We know you caught him.”
Dot’s brother came over. “Hey,” he said. “Mom wants to get going. Let’s pack it up.”
“I caught a fish, but he talked me into letting him go,” Dot said.
“Oh, yeah?” her brother said. “How big was this fish?”
Dot thought a moment and then held her hands a bit over a foot apart.
“I think this big,” she said.
Her brother smiled. “You’ve got your first big fish story. It’ll probably be a marlin by next year. Now you’re a true fisherman.”
Dot suspected her brother didn’t believe her, and that was annoying, but she said nothing.
“You looked good with that fly fishing rod,” her brother said. “It’s like you’d done it before.”
Dot smiled. She thought she’d done pretty well with it, too.
They gathered up the stuff and piled into the car. Just five minutes into the journey home, Dot fell asleep.
