All that sits before me is a blank computer screen and a mug of tea. If I had something to write about (which I don't) I suppose it would be a short story... or maybe a novel...well, probably a short story. It would start off with... "It was a cool spring afternoon. Tommy and I walked down the dirt road carrying two 5 pound bass. The sun began to set over the corn field..."
Then, I'd create some kind of conflict, perhaps an argument. Tommy would say something like, "Hey, Jim, my fish is bigger than yours." And I'd say, "No it's not." Then he'd say, "Yeah it is," and I'd say, "Shut up dummy," and he'd say, "Whatdijou call me?..." The argument would go on like this for a few more pages, when suddenly, a black Cadillac would pull up and two gangsters would get out. One of them would light a cigarette and say, "Hey, you boys owe us money. Get in the car." Tommy would start to put down his fish, but then he'd pull out his 45mm and start firing at the gangsters. Then the gangsters would start firing back, and it would turn into a big shoot out. I'd run for cover behind a tree and hide.
Finally, one of the gangsters would shoot Tommy in the chest and they'd both drive away. After they were gone, I'd run over to Tommy and hold him in my arms as he'd gasp his last few breaths. Then I'd say, "Who has the biggest fish now?"
After he was completely dead, I'd pick up his fish, along with mine, and take them both into town to sell. When I'd get there, the store clerk would say, "Good day fishin'?" And I'd say, "You bet it was."
