PANDEMONIUM REIGNS AT THE JUNIOR CONSERVATION BANQUET Once Mollygrubs’ painful ministrations with Mitzi’s corsage had been duly rectified with profuse apologies, the intercession of Mrs. Merkle, and some general calming of adolescent nerves, the excited couple made...
Pull up a chair and let me tell you about the fish that bit Mike — a TRUE fish tale. Everyone who has ever been fishing has some type of fish tale to tell. Those stories range from the one that got away to something strange happened on the water. Well, pull up a chair...
Big fish, big fish on the end of his line! Oh Christ, what had I done? I used to see old Artemis Hovle now and then as he slowly tapped his way along East Water Street, his white cane exploring the uneven surface of the brick pavement between the Post Office and...
DISASTER AT THE JUNIOR CONSERVATION BANQUET—PART 2 The mere appearance of Mitzi, or for that matter any girl who was even moderately attractive, was sufficient to turn Mollygrubs’ face an alarming shade of scarlet. The mere thought of talking to her, much less asking...
There are surviving publications, most notably Sporting Classics, where my material has appeared on a regular basis for several decades. Were I so inclined, it would be difficult to provide a whole host of examples where I played a role in putting the kibosh on...
DISASTER AT THE JUNIOR CONSERVATION BANQUET — PART 1 In due time Mollygrubs Messer recovered physically from his rude and painful introduction to the miseries of poison ivy while on a Boy Scout outing, but mental torment remained in the form of regular taunting from...
The date was Tuesday, January 22,1929. There was nothing to hint that the day would be any different from the many others Sweet had spent fishing through the ice for lake trout, there on the submerged reefs off Crane Island. Tramping across the rock-strewn,...
The first installment in Jim Casada’s new series: THE MISADVENTURES OF MOLLYGRUBS MESSER The parents of the newborn lad who would in time be known to one and all as Mollygrubs Messer most assuredly did not dub their offspring “Mollygrubs,” a quaint word widely...
What a store was doing out in the middle of nowhere I didn’t know, but there it was. I should never have had that second green chili burrito. The gas in my stomach told me I had made a big mistake and it was getting worse by the minute. I had finished my sales...
Spruce Creek’s greatest claim to fame may well lie in what it gives to angling families in the future. No wider than the asphalt two-lane that traced it, the little stream wasn’t too impressive at first glance. The roar of traffic along a busy Pennsylvania...
