The Northern California Fly Fishing Board

. . . when all of a sudden the force of the hook set reversed the brown trouts descent. It was so violent that the brown trout's lip darn near as I could tell became separated from its hinges. The immediate tightness across her chest, she found herself lashed to a large hook with thread and dressed just in feathers and fur all the while in the grips of the huge brown trout. Lucky for her she hadn't been created at tying bench of either Barr or Mercer for the bead head alone would hurt, not to mention the epoxy across her shoulder blades. Were those aliens just jerking her around or was it intended for the reader as well? Was this the parallel world we had often read about in Ray Bradbury's short stories or just. . .



(too weird for me)