Dear Al,

Y'know, I ain't much of a writer. Matter a fact, I don't thank I've wrote a letter in nearly 'bout five years, but I jest gotta tell ya. The dangedest thang happen to me and Fred t'other day. I know you's gonna enjoy hearin' about it, so here goes.

Last Tuesday, ol' Fred come over ta the house, and he said, "Herman," he said, "I jest been a-watchin' one of them fishin' shows on the tellyvision. Some feller by the name of Coonrod, er sumpthin' like that, was a-fishin' in that new lake, Lake Stricken. Y'know it's jest acrost the county line over there in Upchuck County. Wellsir, this here feller was a-ketchin' some of the most hugest basses what I has ever done seen. And what's more, he was a-talkin' about this big ol' huge mother bass what lives in Lake Stricken. Said this big ol' fishy was called Ol' Diesel Jaws. Why, son, that there feller said Ol' Diesel Jaws weighs more'n twenty-five pound. Said he'd been hooked hunnerds of times, but ain't nobody ever caught him." Wellsir, Al, you know how ol' Fred is; why he went on and on fer hours. After he finely fished that there tal of his, I jest couldn't turn down the chance to go over there and see fer myself.

So's, early Saturday morning, nearly 'bout five o'clock, we . . .'scuse me, Al; I jest ran outta ice tea. Lemme go to the kitchen and make some more. Back in a sec...















...Weel, there, that didn't take so long, did it? Anyways, me and Fred drove on over tothe lake. We launched the boat all excited-like. Why we jest knowed that we was a-gonna load up the boat with them monstrous basses and mebbe even ketch Ol' Diesel Jaws hisself.

Wellsir, now thangs didn't zackly go accordin' to Hoyle, whoever he is. Y'know, by the time lunch rolled around, our whole entire ketch consisted of a tree limb, a empty plastic milk jug, and one size fourteen Reebok. We decided we'd oughta retar fer lunch, and so's we come upon this little eatery called Bumsteer's Backwoods Bar B Q Bow Teek. It seems that ol' Bumsteer couldn't spell boeteuqe.

When we walked in it uz obvious that we wuz the only ones in the place; mainly cause they weren't nobody else there. Wellsir, this here ol' man, why, he musta been somewheres near about ninety year old. He walked on over to the table, and he said, "Howdy there, boys. I'm Bumsteer." He did, and then he said, "What ya'll be wantin' to eat, huh?"

And so's I said, "Well, whatcha got ol' man?"

And he says to me, "Why, son, I done got barbecued crawdads a la slopjar on sale today fer half price."

"I jest knowed this wuz a fancy joint," Fred remarked. "Why, jest listen to the way he uses them fancy French words. Whaddaya reckon a la slopjar means in French, anyways?"

"Man, I dunno," I said. I looked over that there menu real careful-like. "Mr. Bumsteer, I bleev I'll have the frog's eye soup, a crow's toe salad, and a glass of tea," I said

The ol' Fred spoked up, and he said "I wants one of them specials and a Seven Up. Yessir, that's fer me."

"You betcha, boys," grunted the ol' man. "I'll have that fer ya quicker'n you kin say Diesel Jaws." He plum disappeared through a little ol' door,and then after a good bit of bangin' around, he emerged oncet again a-carryin' a beat up purple tray. He brung it over to our table, and said, "Here ya go boys. Dig in!" I looked down into a bowl full of greenish-gray grease with a couple of unidentifiable li'l objects a-swimmin' round in it. Why, Al, I'm tellin' ya, the only way I could eat it wuz to close my eyes and hold my breath whilst a-swallerin' that mess whole. Fred's experience with the special wuz along the same lines.

Wellsir, when we finished eatin' we got up to pay the tab. But suddenly it hit me right on the noggin that ol' Bumsteer might know of a good fishin' hole. "Mr. Bumsteer, y'know, we's been a-fishin' all mornin' long. And, man, we ain't had so much as a nibble. I mean, we ain't even seen a fish, let alone ketched one. I wuz a-wonderin' if'n you might could possible tell us of a real good fishin' hole. I mean, we seen that there feller Coonrod on Tellyvision what wuz a-ketchin' millions of basses right here in this lake; so's there must be a good spot summers."

Wellsir, ol' Bumsteer run to the door, he did, so fast I thought he's a-gonna hurt hisself. He opened the door, and he peered out of it, lookin' 'round in ever direction. Then he locked the door and pulled all the blinds. Next he turned out alla the lights, and he said, "Wait here," he did. He said, "I'll not be fer long." Then he disappeared back through he kitchen door. Afore too long he come back and locked the kitchen door behind him. In his hand he wuz a=clutchin' a wrinkled up ol' yeller piece of paper. It looked like it might of been a map of the lake. "You boys oughta know that that feller Coonrod is a fake. He brung a tank load of basses with him. He puts 'em on his hook and throws 'em out, and then he turns on the camera and pulls 'em in. But, they is a place in this here lake what is plum full of basses. I ain't never showed this to nobody afore, but I kinda likes ya'll." Now, I ain't lyin' when I tell's ya this; that ol' man turned on a flashlight, and he unfolded that there map. "Now, looka here," he said. "Ya'll see this li'l ol' cove over here?"

"This whatcha mean?" Fred asked. He wuz a-pointin' to sumpthin' what had been penciled in on that there map.

Bumsteer looked all excited like. "Yessir, that's it," he said. "That there's my own private secret fishin' hole. That is where Ol' Diesel Jaws lives. Y'know, I've done hooked that booger four er three times, but I ain't never got him in the boat. Now, this here cove's a li'l hard to find, but bleev me, it;s shore 'nuff worth the trouble."

"You don't mean!" Fred piped up. "Ol' Diesel Jaws is fer real?!"

"Why, young feller, he shore 'nuff is.," the ol' man whispered. "Why, son, he is plum big enuff to swaller a whole boat plum up."

"How does we git there?" I screamed.

"Shhh . . . Don't make so much noise, boy, er you'll make people 'spicious," he whispered. "Like I wuz a-sayin', it ain't easy, but I'll show you how. He pointed at the map with his bent ol' fanger. "Right about chere they's a cliff what's all covered up with vines."

"Yeah, we've seen 'em," I said.

"Well, that's good," he said. He said, "Right about chere, they's a li'l hole in the cliff what looks to be a cave er sumpthin'. Wellsir, if'n, ya pull back the vines, ya kin go right on in. Now, ya might thank ya'll never see daylight again, but jest keep on a-goin'. Soon 'nuff you'll come out inta that there cove. It's purty good sized. Start ta fishin' with crank baits, and I plum guarantee ya you'll ketch some basses. Mind ya, be careful in that there cave, though boys. I done stocked a brace o' gators in there fer to keep out the tourists, but they is harmless enuff."

Well, ol' Fred and me, we jest jumped to our feet. "Thanks a bunch, Mr. Bumsteer," I hollered as we ran outta the door. Now, I'm a-tellin' ya the truth here. We reached the boat at a dead run, jumped right in, cranked 'er up, 'n roared off. But 'bout halfway acrost the lake, that there engine commenced to spittin' and sputterin' sumpthin' awful. Why, boy, I hollered out real loud. I said, "Ding dang it! This confounded contraption better not die on us!" Well, it didn't. We managed to reach the cliffs, and we commenced to lookin' around fer Bumsteer's cave.

"There 'tis, Herman. There 'tis!" Fred screamed. And, man, then he commenced to jumpin' up and down and a-flailin' his arms all around. Why, boy, he nearly 'bout turned over the boat, that he did. But after that brief cellybration, he pulled them there vines back, and we went on inta that there cave. Man, we rounded a coupla bends, and the light done faded plum out, It wuz pitch black, it wuz. The gunnels of the boat scraped up against the sides of that there cave ever now and then. Son, we wuz a-cruisin' along at about twenty per when we hit one of them long green alleygators. I done knowed fer shore that he wuz a gator, cuz I heared his teeth a-clackin' and seen his eyes a-flashin' as he flewed by in the air.

"What in the name of everthang that's holy wuz that?!" Fred hollered

"That? Why, merely a small nine foot alleygator, my friend," I said whilst tryin' to stay calm. But I decided, however, that it'd be best if'n I slowed up jest a mite. So's I decellrated to 'bout five miles a hour. After whut felt like a eternity in the dark, I could see a dim light what growed slowly, but steadily brighter as we pergressed.

Wellsir, soon nuff we come out inta a purty li'l cove. Now, I'm tellin' ya, ol' Fred commenced to jumpin' up and down and a-hollerin' and a-screamin'. Man, wuz he excited. He wuz a-sayin' sumpthin like, "Here we is! We is here! I is a-gonna ketch Ol' Diesel Jaws. I jest knows it!" Now, this ain't no lie. It took me a whole half hour to git that boy settled down enuff so's we could commence to fishin'. We hadn't been a-fishin' fer long afore Fred let out a yelp, "Mercy, goodness, Lawd!" he said. "I has done went and stuck Ol' Diesel Jaws hisself!" Wellsir, he rared back and set the hook real hard. Man. I'm tellin' ya; sumpthin' flew outta the water like one of them cruise missiles, boy. It flew plum over the boat and landed on the other side. Well, ol' Fred reeled in his prize winnin' ketch, a half pound perch.

"Yep, that's Ol' Diesel Jaws, fer shore," I said. "I shore ain't never seen a bigger perch in all my born days. Why, boy, you is gonna have to git him stuffed, so's you can hang him up over yer fireplace." Heh, it took me ten whole minutes fer to quit laughin'. Now, oncet I wuz finely able to straighten up, I casted my lure plum over beside a likely lookin' stump and started to reel it in. Wham! Sumpthin' hit it and took off like a freight train. Whilst I fought that fish, I wuz a-wonderin' if'n this might jest be the legendary Ol' Diesel Jaws. But it weren't. It wuz a nice nine pounder, but it fer shore weren't Ol' Diesel Jaws.

We kep' on a-fishin' fer a while. Suddenly Fred hollered, "I got him!" He set the hook real hard. So hard, in fact, that his lure come a-flyin' back through the air. Of course, now ol' Fred, he ducked. But it wuz done too late. That there lure done hit him in the side of his head. "I jest know I is mortally wounded! He'p me, Herman!" he hollered. So's I went over to see how bad it wuz. Fred wuz a quiverin' sumpthin' awful. "Is I dead?" he whimpered.

I said to him, "no, you duckbill platterpoos dummy. That there lure is stuck in yore cap. It didn't never even touch yer greezy head." Well, I tell ya, it took durn near twenty minutes fer ol' Fred to quit shakin'. But oncet he did, we commenced to fishin' again.

Afore too long, I felt a teeny li'l nibble. I rared back hard and sent home the steel. Man, that there line zipped offa my reel at a ever-increasin' rate of speed. Then Fred, he hollered, "Well, I'll be jiggered, if'n I don't thank you've done went and hooked that big ol' sucka!" And, y'know, it shore enuff wuz Ol' Diesel Jaws, his own self. I'm tellin' ya, that big ol' bassy type fish done went and pulled my li'l ol' boat all plum over that there cove. Man, we wuz a-plowin' up brush and stumps fulla grandaddies and all kindsa stuff.

So's I hollered, "Merciful heavens!" I said, "I shore don't thank I kin stop him!" But ol' Fred never even give me a answer. No sir, he wuz too busy a-hangin' onta the handrails of that there speedin' boat. After he'd done pulled us around fer a li'l bit more'n a hour, that there fishy jest stopped all sudden-like. Man, I wuz plum overjoyed. I said to Fred, I did, "Man alive. I done tired that big ol' feller plum out!" Yessir, I did fer a fact.

"We . . . er . . . I mean you is a-gonna boat Ol' Diesel Jaws yet!" screamed Fred. Y'know, Al, that there Diesel Jaws didn't move none atall fer quite a few seconds. I wuz a-gainin' line, and I thunk I done had him whupped. Then alla the sudden the water exploded. Man, you ain't never seen nothin' like it. This big ol' huge cavernous mouth wuz done a-speedin' right towards us. I'm tellin' ya. He wuz in high gear, too, brother. "N - n - n - -nice fishy! . . . My . . ." Fred hollered, but y'know, I never did know what he said, cuz right there at that very same and certain moment, Ol' Diesel Jaws jest swallered us plum up. Yessir, he did. Boat and all. He swallered us whole. Now, Al, I ain't lyin'. I shorely ain't, but I jest ain't gonna tell ya how we managed to git outta that one, cuz . . . well, you jest wouldn't bleev me anyhows.

©Dennis Turner 1997