Catfish

I almost hate to type this, the words that cause me and those who heard the tale to instantly screw up our faces like we sucked a lemon and utter "Oooooh damn", but here goes:

My beloved cousin, J-Dogg went catfish fishing a couple mornings ago. He caught one, a decent sized one even, enough that it was deemed a keeper for fixin's later in the evening. Now I didn't see the fish in person, but after hearing what happened I like to envision it being of such substantial size that it might have been mounted to a wall. For what it did to J-Dogg, I hope it still will be.

Turns out it's best to put your catfish in a bag and drag it 30 feet behind you instead of holding it in one hand while you climb a hill back up to your vehicle. The reason? If you fall or lose your balance, the catfish stinger won't go in your arm, piercing a nerve and making your fingers go numb thus requiring surgery.

I don't think we'll be having fish the next time we go for a visit.