Fishman
11-18-2013, 02:28 PM
There I was, sitting on my front porch drinking a cold beverage, marveling at the beautiful weather. Suddenly, the dog started barking and then a fracas started up in the back yard. Figuring the dog had tangled up with one of the neighborhood mountain lions, I grabbed my trusty sidearm and beat feet to help him out. Just as I turned the corner around the house, I saw something clear the fence in one bound with my dog right on it's heels. Whatever it was, it wasn't a lion, because the dog was busy mauling a pair of blue jeans on the ground. An intruder! Quick as a flash, I ran to intercept, as whoever it was was would have to run between the house and my newly stocked pond, where I could get a good look at him.
Well, being somewhat overweight and less nimble on my feet, I hove into view of the pond a moment or two later in time to see a half clothed figure dragging a large stringer out of the pond by the dam. He turned to look at me, and I received the shock of my life. It was George! Having seen him once before, there could be no mistake. Without another backward glance, he threw the stringer over his back and slipped into the woods, heading toward my neighbor's.
I realized I wouldn't be able to overtake him on foot, so I threw open the door to my shed and jumped on the four wheeler. It roared to life, and I took off in a cloud of dust. I thought I might catch him at one point as he ran past my neighbor's pond, but he realized he had bitten off a bit more than he could chew, and threw the stringer of catfish by the pond as he bounded past. The terrain got nasty after that and I had to leave off the chase. I returned to the stringer and decided to release them there in the neighbor's pond since they wouldn't make it back to mine alive. Do you know that greedy George had caught and kept 50 of them! Well, I just hope the neighbor's grandkids catch a few, compliments of George.
When I got back to the house, I examined the remnants of the jeans my dog had captured. They were Wranglers sized 36 x 32, which may help us narrow down this character's identity. In the left front pocket were 3 boolit sizing dies, no doubt swindled from some poor sucker in a business dealing or somesuch. I decided to keep them after checking out my reloading room and seeing what was missing. I had set out two brand new unfired 20 round boxes of 7.62 x 53 Lapua brass on my bench as well as some lead slugs. My plans that evening were to slug my Mosin Nagant and do some reloading, but George really messed it up for me because he took it all! I doubt he even has a Mosin!
Anyway, this is just a cautionary tale for you all. George shows up without warning, so best be vigilant. If he posts up with some 7.62 Russian brass for sale or something, don't believe whatever yarn he spins, this is the real story.
Well, being somewhat overweight and less nimble on my feet, I hove into view of the pond a moment or two later in time to see a half clothed figure dragging a large stringer out of the pond by the dam. He turned to look at me, and I received the shock of my life. It was George! Having seen him once before, there could be no mistake. Without another backward glance, he threw the stringer over his back and slipped into the woods, heading toward my neighbor's.
I realized I wouldn't be able to overtake him on foot, so I threw open the door to my shed and jumped on the four wheeler. It roared to life, and I took off in a cloud of dust. I thought I might catch him at one point as he ran past my neighbor's pond, but he realized he had bitten off a bit more than he could chew, and threw the stringer of catfish by the pond as he bounded past. The terrain got nasty after that and I had to leave off the chase. I returned to the stringer and decided to release them there in the neighbor's pond since they wouldn't make it back to mine alive. Do you know that greedy George had caught and kept 50 of them! Well, I just hope the neighbor's grandkids catch a few, compliments of George.
When I got back to the house, I examined the remnants of the jeans my dog had captured. They were Wranglers sized 36 x 32, which may help us narrow down this character's identity. In the left front pocket were 3 boolit sizing dies, no doubt swindled from some poor sucker in a business dealing or somesuch. I decided to keep them after checking out my reloading room and seeing what was missing. I had set out two brand new unfired 20 round boxes of 7.62 x 53 Lapua brass on my bench as well as some lead slugs. My plans that evening were to slug my Mosin Nagant and do some reloading, but George really messed it up for me because he took it all! I doubt he even has a Mosin!
Anyway, this is just a cautionary tale for you all. George shows up without warning, so best be vigilant. If he posts up with some 7.62 Russian brass for sale or something, don't believe whatever yarn he spins, this is the real story.