Fishing for Brown Trout

M.O.M. wasn’t like other children either.  From the beginning her mind surpassed that of her peers, though some of her first Experiments in Devious Conducts of Humor were lacking the sophistication and forethought that would later follow.   Over the years her planning, technique, and follow through improved greatly.

 One of the first stories I recall in this particular category involved M.O.M’s younger brother, Carl, and in a roundabout way, great grandma who had a habit of following the water preservation rule “If it’s yellow let it mellow”, though if it was brown, she didn’t flush it down either.  Perhaps it was a product of growing up without indoor plumbing, or maybe just a certain blasé attitude about flushing.   Regardless of her reasons, great grandma left a floater.

Carl wasn’t very bright as a child.  I have visions of him stuffing Play Doh and peas up his nose, and gleefully jumping on the seat of the car as it rolled backward down a hill and over great grandma who was trying to summon super human strength to stop the car.  Great grandma was ok, but I think Carl was beyond help by then.  

One day, M.O.M. somehow got it in her head to make a suggestion or a dare for Carl to go fishing.  It is still unknown what prompted the impromptu gathering around the toilet to examine the apparently intriguing specimen, or what prompted M.O.M. to make her suggestion but I imagine it went something like this:

“Psst, Carl, look in the toilet. I wonder what would happen if you picked that up.”

Carl, his nose whistling through the Play Doh happily if a bit naively takes the plunge and retrieves his dirty prize.   

It is fortunate that she didn’t attempt to convince poor simple Carl that what he was holding was a chocolate covered banana.  I shudder to imagine how that scene would have eventually played out.  What happened next set a precedent for future Experiments in Devious Conducts of Humor. 

 “Daaaaaad!  Look what Carl did!”

Sure it wasn’t funny if you’re Carl, and sure, it lacks a certain savoir faire, but it did teach M.O.M. that Carl was gullible enough to fish a turd out of the toilet and stand and hold it up like a prize trout for his father to see.  When I inquired as to the results of the fishing expedition and if grandpa took pictures of Carl with the prize catch I was told “I didn’t stick around to find out.”  I wonder if this is why Uncle Carl has a passion for fishing now as an adult.