My Final Piece

Megan Clifford
9/10/13
Mr. Joseph

The Fishing Fiasco
My Published Piece

It was a burning summer day at the Canadian Lakes and the boats were whipping around the lake so fast I could not count.  The crystal clear water was sparkling in the 100 degree heat, and I was on the dock fishing with my sister and cousin.  I flung my worm covered hook into the sparkling water and waited wondering if I would ever get a tug.  I looked into to the light green, clear water and saw fish swarming the hook tugging biting at it, pushing and bumping each other out of the way, reminding me of ants attracted to a bread crum.  That's when I felt it, a tug.  Yanked out of my daydream I reacted quickly, reeling in my line as quickly and swiftly as I could.  As the hook broke the surface I could see another flopping around, gasping for air blue gill, struggling to stay alive.
  "Mom," I called, "I got another one!"
My mom rushed over to the end of the hot silver dock and took the struggling fish grasping it tightly in the palm of her hand.  As she did this she told me
"this is the third one you got today soon you will have caught all the fish in the lake!"
"Hey, I can't help it if I am an awesome fisher!" I laughed.
She took the needle like hook out of the fish's lip and threw it back into the water.  In seconds it was gone, swimming farther and farther away from us giants.  I was just about to fling my line out again when I noticed all the bait was gone!
 "Great," I thought
"time to get messy."
I walked over to the worms that were at the end of the dock in a little styrofoam bowl struggling to get out.  I laid my pol on the overcrowded dock and reached for a worm remembering earlier that day.  My mom was showing me how to put bait on the hook.  She reached for a worm and slowly folded it onto the hook and looking pretty proud of her self she handed me the pole and walked away.  Following these instructions carefully I finally managed to grab one of the slippery creatures and to make it easier I cut it into two equal halves.  I folded one of the halves in half and slowly and carefully started to put it on my hook.
Just as my sister was walking by, she kicked my fishing pole (on accident) and the hook went into my left pointer finger.  I let out a scream as I struggled to take it out.  My mom turned upon hearing my scream and saw my finger gushing blood onto the rest of my hand.  With tears streaming down my face, I griped my wrist with my other hand, and raced up the stairs to the closest bathroom we could get to, to get my disgustingly bloody hand washed off and bandaged and hopefully fixed.  Thinking that entire time, that was the end of our fishing trip.