Matt Marinkovich’s weekly At Sea Diary entry is a popular feature of the National Fisherman Web site, and now you can post your own reflections on Matt’s experiences fishing in the Pacific Northwest and North Pacific.
March 2007 (continued) — We were all real impressed by the Gloucesterman's story. I went to the bar to get another drink. While I was at the bar, he made a move for my smokes. Now, I don't smoke — Brett does; this year, Brett decided to bring up a can of Top roll-your-own tobacco, so I rolled a few on the run to town. But my smokes were SPECIAL.
Since I wasn't planning on smoking them, I rolled a couple with tobacco on the very ends, but stuffed full of parsley flakes in the middle; I rolled it up tight so it looked just like any other smoke. For an extra super-surprise, I rolled one with regular tobacco — but this one had a generous dose of cayenne pepper laced with the smooth-burning leaves.
I put my smokes in a Top pouch, just like anyone would. My plan was to leave my special smokes on the table, and eventually, when nobody was looking, some drunk was certain to take liberty on one of the unattended, hand-crafted smoke-bombs. Well, I was right. When I got up to get a drink, the Gloucesterman helped himself to a smoke.
I saw him from the bar, about 20 feet away. He reached right in, grabbed one, brought it to his lips, and fired up his lighter. The first drag went mostly to getting it lit. The second one was for the feeling. He took a deep, solid lungful of my special cigarette. I saw his look of pleased anticipation turn to shocked surprise when he got a hit of the good stuff. His eye bugged out and he broke into a violent coughing fit.
"Oh, MAN!!!" he cried between gasps, "waddya put in there?" Everybody rolled with laughter. The Gloucesterman coughed uncontrollably. I laughed uncontrollably. He had taken the bait, just like one of those red things, with the pinchas, that wandered into that trap that hooked him in the aam.
I hung at the bar until I his coughing spasm ended. I was concerned he smoked the cayenne shooter and was ready to kill me. But then I figured if he had inhaled combusted cayenne vapor it might have killed him. The parsley smoke gave him a bad taste in his mouth, but it didn't drive him to violence. It did wake him up a bit, and it gave us something to remember about that otherwise uneventful stopover in the quiet town of Petersburg.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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