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About one old big shiny trout and his bite
You don't need to manipulate life, it simply flows if you let it...
Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan
she pronounced the title slowly
before snatching the book from his hands
and hid it under the blanket they shared
while giggling and pretending to fight off
his playful bites and kisses
while their two naked bodies entwined
the Trout Fishing in America
slipped un noticed from her hands
Later they laid in each other’s arms as lovers do.
The twenty something old student of journalism
doing her final prac with the forty something editor
of the independent economic magazine
and single and handsome still too.
She laid her head on his chest
and ran her fingers up and down his stomach. ‘
You’re delicious,’ she said with a sigh.
‘I wish we didn’t have to go to that boring ball.
Don’t you want to stay here with me?'
‘I’m afraid we have to go.’ he replied
already out of his bed dressing up,‘
but we are back again in three hours, honey,’
he kissed her hurriedly while she fixed his tie.
‘That’s a tempting thought.’
She giggled tossing her hair on one side
so he could close the zip on her night gown.
‘You look ravishing,’ he smiled.
‘Have you ever been in love?’ She asked,
running a long nail over his smart sleeve.
‘No, and I don’t think I ever will.’
‘You’re not too old for love,’ she said.
‘I can tell.’‘Age has nothing to do with it. I am not the type.
‘You can’t go through life alone, surely?’
‘I’m not alone, II shared nine years of my life with a woman.
I just didn’t want to marry her.’
‘Don’t you dream that the right woman will come along?’‘
I’m not romantic.’
‘You don’t have to be romantic.
You’re handsome and sexy and tremendously good in bed.’
She giggled into his chest.
‘I don’t rate romantic love very highly.
Perhaps I have a cold heart, I don’t know.’
He ran a hand down her hair.
She was so young.
Life’s disappointments awaited her
and she didn’t even know it.
‘I don’t think you have a cold heart.
It just hasn’t been warmed by the right woman yet.’
He looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes
and took her hand,‘Well, come on and meet Mel and her Don,
I am sure she thought once the same about him too.’
He put the two invitation cards
securely into his breast pocket
together with their police clearance
and their job description
and off they went to watch
the most important mani
n the whole world to dance.
The two stiffly figurines were moving slowly
to the very sad music
while watched from every side
by every men and women
who got permission
to see them.
Don flashed his smile around
barely noticing his Mel whole clothed
in uniform gown
of unspecific colour,
it was his time to shine,
The editor and his prac student
stood in the first raw,“
There are not too many journalists
among the crowd,’she whispered,
'Well maybe they are Mexicans or blacks
or just refuse to repeat hateful slogans
about the press.’‘And you do?’ She asked surprised.
'Well anything for a bit of fun
and to catch a nice shiny trout,
just like Richard Brautigan would say.’
She looked at him confused,
but he just smiled watching Don
to touch his side pocket.“
Why they dance to the funeral music?
And why on earth he calls himself Don?’
He took her around the waist
so she would stop fidgeting.
‘Because he is old,’ the editor whispered
into her hair finally.
‘And he wants to show Mexicans
who is real boss.’
But she was already trying to catch
what Don and Mel were whispering
to each other
through their clenched teeth
and well rehearsed smiles.
Suddenly the editor put the hand
into his side pocket
and felt the strong grip on his arm
from a security guy.
'Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan.’
She read it out with a big smile
thinking about the love making
smiling broadly on the security blank face.
The editor placed it in her hands,
‘He it not a fisherman,’ he waved at already
disappearing security man.‘
But neither am I,’ the prac student laughed.‘
Well, you are the future journalist so you have to learn
about the world of big shiny fish,’
He laughed and pointed at dancing Don,‘
and also about their fishermen
who just need the right bite to catch them.’
‘Where are they?’ She looked around.
In three hours they were back
in his flat as he promised
but lovemaking was not on his mind
and she was disappointed
but only for a while.
‘Do you want to hear what they talk about?’
He suddenly asked and switch on his mobile.
Between the rustling noise of the cloth
moving with the body she could hear clearly,
‘Mel, push your tits up, don’t you know how to dance?”‘
"All eyes are on you, Don, you said I don’t matter
and you are stepping on my toes constantly.’
‘I am fed up with this nonsense, have you memorised
your lines woman, do not muck it up I am telling you!’
More rustiling noise.‘
Yes I memorised it Don, what about your speech
tomorrow?”There was more rustling noise
as Don patted his pocket.‘Who gives the shit about the speech,
I just say the sun is shining and it is time to have some fun.’
‘Hope it is not snowing Don.’
‘I will be the sun!’
Then the mobile got silent.
‘This is brilliant!” The prac student jumped up:
‘’When and where and how?’
The editor smiled taking the memory card out
and breaking it apart.
‘I am just a little fish who knows another little fish,
in Silicon Valley,
there is one smart cookie
who is into listening devices,
even our own Secret Services likes him,
guess his is a new apple, google, uber guy
but on the spying side.
He asked me to try it out
and I thought about
Trout Fishing in America and said why not.’
The prac student suddenly froze,
‘But when Don find itin his pocket then what?’
The editor chuckled: ‘He will throw it out with his unused
speech notes, it looks like a piece of paper
and after the recording
all the information is wiped out.’
“ You could be famous, print it all out in your magazine!’
He laughed at that silly notion, ‘You know I imagined Don
smiling on his own reflection on every shiny surface
not even realising
he is watched even when he is shitting.’
‘So why?’ the prac student kept asking
The editor pointed at the ‘Trout Fishing in America’
she was still holding in her hands, ‘
That’s why,and also,’ he took her into his arms
and threw the book under the bed,
‘to show you that I am not marrying type!'
‘Trout Fishing in America’ laid silently
under the bed
hearing them to make love, again.
Don, the big shiny trout was still swimming
in the shiny water
of his own making.
And fishermen were waiting