Dear Burly Fisherman

To Whom It May Concern,

Alaskan fishermen are tough mothers, I’ll tell you what.

I was out at the bars, having a few beers and fortifying myself with a false sense of strength when a burly and bearded man with arms bulging with muscles challenged me to arm wrestling.

Mano a mano.

I thought, I am tall, I have leverage, and I have beaten most of my friends at this before, so why not.

I plopped down and made a big show of stretching and getting ready and then clasped hands with the man who smelled of fish oil.

He creamed me and as he smiled and took a pull off of his hand-rolled cigarette I challenged him to a rematch in a couple of weeks.

“No time for that,” he said. “I am off fishing starting tomorrow. Will be gone for three months.”

I called my girlfriend, dejected and depressed.

“Did you bet me?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“Well, then you are fine,” she said.

The love you give comes back in the end.
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