At this point, I am in too deep. Like an undercover FBI agent in a re-imagined story that involves the seedy drug trade, I have started to give over my response to authority to my own morals. I start to question the entire fabric of the Constitution of The United States of America and wonder if my neighbor's property is really theirs since it is in a water way. Well sure it is theirs, but my subconscious suggestions start to creep into my consciousness. While I know it is wrong, I have some sort of sick and twisted way to justify fishing for koi in my neighbor's pond. That is when I sneak out of the house for the first time.
Since I am a man of moderate intelligence (I'm being a little generous there), I don't expect to catch a koi on my first attempt. This is a learning experience. I would probably learn that while these fish have excellent sight and intelligence, they are not nocturnal which is due mostly to the fact that they are fed during the day. Uh oh. This just got a LOT more complicated. This mission (like it is some sort of military action) has just taken a serious turn. This is now a daylight, shock and awe campaign. In preparation, I start to set aside some Christmas money to be used as bail because this story doesn't end without a call from the cops. The best case scenario is that I hook a fish but the owner forgives me. The worst case is that I make one cast and that the neighbor is a cop that arrests me on the spot with nothing to show. Like Bruce Wayne, I channel my inner Batman and select my morals over that of the accepted social standards and structure.
Step 5- The Moment Of Truth
I have a job. Some would call it a career. I simply don't have time to figure out when my neighbors will be home so I throw caution to the wind and hope for the best. After arriving home on a particularly stressful day, I decide that this IS the day. I would probably hem and haw over it for a few weeks, but then the stress of a long day would trigger some sense of primordial response that has its ties to Homo Erectus. This is it. It's on much like the popular 80's video game, Donkey Kong. this is about to get off the hinges, my ninjas. Gameface....on.
When I get home, I know I don't have long before the wife gets home and stops my plan. As for the neighbor, I stopped caring about presence and opinion a LONG time ago. I rig up a fly rod (inside of course) and make a few practice casts (knocking over some lamps of course) before I step outside. I emerge from my back basement door like a Navy Seal slowly emerging from calm water. Eyes first, weapon second.
I peel off line as I approach the property line as I walk. I figure I have 5-10 casts before I get noticed and if I actually hook a fish, well then that time gets cut down dramatically. First cast. sucks as usual. Second cast, off to the left. Third cast, off to the left again because I am stubborn and a wind gust must be to blame because that sure as heck wasn't my fault. Fourth cast is off to the right because I finally admit fault and over-correct. Cast five rings home like a blacksmith's hammer. A fly is on the water and there is a serious chance that I might catch my neighbor's koi. The deer hair pellet fly circles the artificial pond like Paul's stonefly on the Big Blackfoot. Then there's a sip.
It happens with the subtleness of a broken shoelace. A koi has my fly and this entire ridiculous plan has come come to this point. I set the hook and I feel meat on the other end. Holy crud, I've hooked my neighbor's koi. I shouldn't have done this. What have I done? I can't undo this!
The neighbors don't notice at first because they are eating dinner (early bird special) and the splashing in the koi pond is nothing compared to the roast beef sandwhiches splashing in au jus suace. Eventually the great beast tires and while a sense of relief washes over me like the salmon of Capistrano, I still can't get the fish unhooked. I sure as heck can't just walk over into my neighbor's yard and unhook their ornamental fish so I start to drag the fish out of the pond and toward my property. It is with some ill-placed sense of pride that I am glad that I selected a 10 pound monofilament tippet. That's when my neighbors notice the multicolored critter being drug across their backyard. Mission accomplished, and mission failed all at the same time. I'm caught gold and orange handed. There I stand with a fly rod in my right hand, a koi in my left, and a guilty grin on my face. Hey neighbor, allow my to introduce myself. Oh yeah, my hands are full. You understand if we don't shake hands, don't you buddy?
Hands, not shaken. Apology, not accepted. Cops, called. Bail money, in my wallet. An awkward selfie with my fish of a lifetime, on the phone that I hope the cops won't take. Will it all be worth it...umm...yeah!
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