| General Fiction posted January 8, 2019 | Chapters: |
...85 86 -87- 88... 
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a short story
A chapter in the book Short
Fish Food
by Bill Schott
It was a dewy morning. Janice was digging holes in the lawn outside the front door of our family home.
"Janice! What are you doing?" I yelled. She was shoveling right outside the front door and three feet from the sidewalk.
"I need worms to go fishing."
"Dad has grubs in the garage. They're in a coffee can."
She made a clenched face that looked like she was crapping her pants.
"I've just gotten used to putting these slimy things onto a hook. I won't be able to shove a hook into one of those fat things. They probably bite anyway."
I thought I'd reason with her never-missed-a-meal side.
"Janice. Worms are like a sliver of bacon; a grub is more like a pork chop."
"I only eat fish and seafood, Jon."
"That's the same way with fish. That's all they eat too. Grubs are like shrimp. Seriously. If you washed them off and cooked them, they'd taste just like shrimp."
She stopped digging; scraped the dirt back into the holes; and replaced the grass-up divots, stepping on them to hide the damage. Then she went to the garage.
I began washing the family car in the driveway. I completed that and went to work on the hedges. Soon I was inspecting the yard for moles, picking up twigs, and checking the sidewalk cracks for sprouting grass. In all that time, Janice had not returned.
I went indoors where I found Janice in the kitchen with a plate full of what looked like fried baby shrimp. The look on her face, with what was probably a mouthful of fried grubs, was worth the beating I received.
It was a dewy morning. Janice was digging holes in the lawn outside the front door of our family home.
"Janice! What are you doing?" I yelled. She was shoveling right outside the front door and three feet from the sidewalk.
"I need worms to go fishing."
"Dad has grubs in the garage. They're in a coffee can."
She made a clenched face that looked like she was crapping her pants.
"I've just gotten used to putting these slimy things onto a hook. I won't be able to shove a hook into one of those fat things. They probably bite anyway."
I thought I'd reason with her never-missed-a-meal side.
"Janice. Worms are like a sliver of bacon; a grub is more like a pork chop."
"I only eat fish and seafood, Jon."
"That's the same way with fish. That's all they eat too. Grubs are like shrimp. Seriously. If you washed them off and cooked them, they'd taste just like shrimp."
She stopped digging; scraped the dirt back into the holes; and replaced the grass-up divots, stepping on them to hide the damage. Then she went to the garage.
I began washing the family car in the driveway. I completed that and went to work on the hedges. Soon I was inspecting the yard for moles, picking up twigs, and checking the sidewalk cracks for sprouting grass. In all that time, Janice had not returned.
I went indoors where I found Janice in the kitchen with a plate full of what looked like fried baby shrimp. The look on her face, with what was probably a mouthful of fried grubs, was worth the beating I received.
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