Submitted for your approval, one Wylie T Fishpants caught in what appears to be a special lingering
glance with a rainbow trout. Concerned, I debriefed Wylie on this matter, and soon it was clear what
was really happening. The trout was begging Wylie to kill it! Why would such a fine fish seek relief from
this mortal coil.
Why? Damn it ! Why ?

Well this may be to harsh for some of you viewers but look if you must.



Look at the beak on this poor bastard, not to mention, half of the inside of his mouth is hanging out.

Yikes!

Clearly the fish was no worse for wear as it had apparently survived an insurmountable amount of foes,
including the one that once bit off his nose!

Well, those of you that know the stretch along the Pequest river that we fished today, also know that
these fish get to see their fair share.

Perhaps we should all take a moment to consider our collective fish handling techniques. 

I have made my check list. 

1. DO NOT, and I repeat DO NOT ever BITE the NOSE off a FUCKING FISH. or you are a bad , bad person!

OK, I'm done with the fish handling speech.

Did I mention that on the way to meet Wylie at the Pequest I was a little hungry?

Well I was. And as most of you know that when you come to the intersection of RT 31 and Rt 46
in New Jersey, you are in Buttzville!



Now if you choose to turn Left at this intersection you will pass this beautifully renovated
gas station / Post Office and soon you will be at the world famous "Hot Dog Johnnys", where I planned
on quenching my periodic Birch Beer and Nitrate fix, and had been for the past hour.





See that little mini sign on the right side " Open All Year "
Well they were not fucking open today! as per the cardboard sign in the window " we're on vacation! " .
Thanks Johnny, I hope you choke on a bad clam down at "The Sunset Arms Sleep and Shuck Motel "
on the panhandle .... douche! Dip that in your buttermilk.

You see 2 weeks ago my Doctor told me I have tripped the Glucose meter from green to amber and that I theoretically have " Onset Adult Diabetes " .
Concerned , I immediately asked him if I needed to stop masturbating on a daily basis. He looked shocked,
and said , "of course not, why would that be of concern to you? "
I returned the odd stare he was giving me and said
" Oh really Doctor, I think we should be asking why it concerns YOU! "

I told him. you have to keep these MD's egos in check!

Anyway, we concluded after reviewing my diet that we would start weaning me off some of the bad habits
I may have, and unfortunately "Coke" would have to go. No not that coke, the bad coke that comes in a red can.
So now its been two weeks and I have my first follow up blood test in two more weeks, and I have been cold turkey on that anti freeze they call Diet Coke ( you can not chill this crap, try it, it melts ice cubes in seconds and comes carbonation free. )

So today I figured a Birch Beer , 2 Hot Dogs and a Three Pack of Tasty Cakes would hit the spot as my mid month reward,  and besides I was in a different county anyway. Oh, I am still so pissed they were closed!
How are those clams Johnny, keep eating them, there's always a bad one, just keep eating.

I continued west on RT 46 and came to the Crossroads Diner. A classic 1950's style diner, but really from the 1950's.
When I pulled up, I parked along side a huge Truck/SUV hybrid, the Chrysler Gallactica or some crap like that.

As I came around my drivers side of my small SUV and passed the Gallactica's rear end, this fucking cujo dog starts barking like it was watching me eat one of its puppies. It really scared the crap out of me, and in my fragile state that was the last thing my glucose levels needed.

I entered the diner,went right to the counter and sat down, I had been there before but it was just recollecting in my head. It was a decent place and I was just going in to get a coffee to go and a bacon and egg sandwich. That is all I will ever order, EVER, in a diner. Unless of course I am with my buddy Johnny, how about a big plate of Diner Clams Johnny, Yum Yum! There on me pal.

Any way as I compose myself and start looking around, I start realizing something. I'm not in a 1950's style Diner.
I'm in the 1950's. Where is Rod Sterling?
The Big Bopper is playing on the juke box, the lunch crowd are dressed in timeless simple folk garb , there are 45 records hanging from the ceiling and there are a couple of older waitress's with bee hive doo's and those funky cat glasses hanging on their noses. This is freaky.  
I am not in the Short Hills mall or NYC at some Retro Diner with $ 15.00 burgers. I have stepped in the wayback machine with Sherman and Peabody and at any moment Richy and The Fonz are gonna walk in.

Mabel walks over takes my order and I continue perusing around. I notice two State Troopers at a booth sporting crew cuts that Astronaut Alan Shepard would have given the thumbs up to.
Than out of the kitchen comes the grand prize winner!
This waitress was not older , she was in her twenties.
She had on White Sneakers, Bobby Socks. A pink poodle skirt ( lease and all ) a white button down sweater,
hair was up with a big silk swag and another one tied around her neck and giant pink glasses. She was right out of central casting.
Now here is the fucked up part. No one but me seemed to notice.

The troopers got up and left, and as if out of a movie, Miss Goo Goo eyes who was clearly sweet on one of the fellas chases them out to the parking lot with some lame excuse that he left too much change or whatever she came up with. Now I'm looking for the camera's.

With that, my order comes, I pay and leave quickly, bumping into the now flush with romantic notions waitress. I skate around her and head to my car. Standing by the rear of the adjacent car are officers Crew and Cut.
Cujo is still uncontrollably barking ( is there a word for a dog screaming because this was more than barking ).

I give them the old "Hi I'm a solid citizen glance"  although I am dressed like a pack rat in dirty sweats, and a knit criminals cap. And don't really want to engage in any way ( old paranoia's run deep ).
I over hear the fellas' speculating on what got old yeller so rilled up, but who knows? Dogs will be Dogs.

Than they get in the Truck! And I let them Pull away first.

You see I never saw the writing on the side of the Gallactica, till they pulled out. And I saw it clear as day in my rear view mirror.

New Jersey State Troopers - K9 Unit!

Its Funny how dogs are, always barking and making noise. I've never really been a dog person, plus I am allergic
to them.

I just cant figure out why that dog went so crazy from the moment I pulled up till the moment they pulled away.

Go figure?

I will stick with cats. Cats never talk.


-Ralph-