Worm-a-rama

Today, we went fishing in Scarfe Lake on the Indian reservation (Mississauga First Nation). Scarfe is amazing because it is uninhabited and almost entirely untouched.  Stace, Erin, and I went with Rich, Nick, CR (aka Detach, aka Tatch, aka Charles), Cleary, and several Smith relatives, including the adorable Jake and Hayden, who BTW have a booming crayfish bait business going on the lake. We had Stacey,
Erin, Nick, and me on our boat along with 2 dozen depressed-looking worms for bait.

I wasn't sure worms could express emotions such as depression, but I hadn't counted on what Stacey was about to do to one of them.  If you've been fishing on a budget, I'm sure you're familiar with the need to cut the worms in half.  A bigger worm may equal a bigger fish one time out of 20, but those other 19 times, some shitty little fish you'll never even see is going to steal that nice long worm tail and leave you with a tidbit reminiscent of a booger on your line.  To prevent this, we cut them.  Stay one step ahead of the fish, that's what I always say.

There are many different methods of cutting the slimy little guys.  I've heard suggestions of using pliers, scissors, knives, or ripping.  I prefer the fingernail pinch method, as it is easiest (and grossest), requiring no extra tools.

Stacey invented a new method today that I do not recommend to anyone.  After voicing her disgust at my refusal to "worm" her line any longer, she set to work getting her own worm.  I turned my back on her to continue fishing--my first mistake.  Two minutes later, I heard a louder than normal whimper of disgust and frustration and turned back to see that not only had she failed to cut her worm, she was engaging it in some as-yet-unknown form of torture.  Stacey was sawing away at her worm through the side of the styrofoam cup it came in.  That's right--she had ripped a tear in the cup, pushed the worm down into it so that half was still in the cup and half was hanging out on the boat, and was attempting to slice it using the styrofoam itself.  That's wonderful.  After this, maybe we can kill a charging rhinoceros with some butterflies.

I actually felt sorry for the worm.  Little did it know, its real torture was just beginning.  After I had rescued it from its foam prison (and cut it myself), I turned my back again (mistake #2).  When I checked on her this time, it was to find Stacey trying to impale her worm on the hook by smashing it between the hook and the boat.  Give me strength.

I'm sure Holmes didn't have to put up with this kind of shit from Watson.


Stacey's comment later, as she read this:
"To be fair, the tear in the cup was already there from when I stepped on them earlier.  Their depression might have been caused by that."

Mea culpa.