Many** of our readers have inquired as to how I first met English Jonny. I was in the Cleveland Wrecking Yard, shopping for another method of making walnut catsup.
English Jonny tapped me on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," he said. "I thought you were a carp fly."
"I'm not," I said.
Then he wrote "Carp Fishing in America" on the back of my shirt.
[Editor's Notes: *This makes no sense to you now, I know. But it will. Also: **None]
I've have often never wondered how you met English Jonny. Thanks for clarifying something in which I have no interest.
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome.
ReplyDelete4/17 of a haiku.
Is teej planning a cross country carp tour? I am thinking that a carp hunter gets to fish some pretty exotic locales. Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Trenton, the bronx. These places I can only dream of fishing.
ReplyDeleteDr. Brayshaw is now off-line as he rides the 600 miles from darkest Ohio to Connecticut via fast food and unclean sanitary arrangements. Please hold while we go fishing.
ReplyDeleteEJ
i cannot wait to see brayshaw's report once he sobers up. i have met many carp fishing drunkards in my day, but brayshaw tops them all.
ReplyDelete