May 20, 2004

  • "The Terrible Fly" -- here are 2 paragraphs from the bottom of page 2 


     


    He picked up a dry fly.  This looks like a dragonfly.  It’s really pretty.  It’s not fat and hairy like the other ones—the wet flies, he meant.  He brushed the makeshift wings against his cheeks.  Can I keep this one?  I don’t want a fish to eat it.  His mother didn’t answer, so he carefully tucked the dragonfly into the front pocket of his overalls, next to the sand dollar he always carried with him because his sister gave it to him. 


    There were some stoneflies in the tackle box, too.  He picked up a dry fly.  You can’t use that.  It’s too late in the summer.  But he didn’t want to use that disgusting brown thing anyway.  It looked like a caterpillar with a big porcupine quill collar, like the ones the queens of England wore.  It also had porcupine quill wings and even more porcupine quills coming out of its butt where the hook was.  Its face looked like a small ugly bird face.