South of the Pumphouse by Les Claypool

The fish gave one pump of its massive tail and gracefully moved forward.

Chapter 22
    P HILOSOPHY
    F ew things in life were more frustrating to Earl than coming back from a trip without any fish. He had been speaking in dead earnest when he complained to Red about the skunk on his boat. Denise had experienced his annoyance firsthand on many occasions. If he returned from a fishing trip with an upbeat stride, she knew that the action had been good on the water that day and there would be fresh fish for dinner. If, however, Earl entered the house muttering to himself, she knew that there had been no fish that day and that the evening could potentially be unpleasant. More than just the wasted expense of a fishless trip, it was a matter of pride with Earl. As did most anglers, he considered the measure of a good fisherman to be gauged not so much by the size but the consistency of the angler’s catch. Earl had long proven himself to be a skillful fisherman, but in his own eyes his luck had turned of late, and he was starting to feel a bit desperate. Donny’s taunting didn’t help matters. More than anything, Earl wanted to see his younger brother, once again after these many years away, battle a mighty sturgeon, and this only added to his desperation. Earl tended the poles with great focus, watching the tips, keeping the bait fresh, and reminding his cohorts to do the same. But with Donny’s slapdash approach and Ed’s apparent mystification with his surroundings, he found himself doing most of the work.
    Earl cast out a freshly baited pole. Ed was lying back in his chair, spacing out, while Donny rooted through his pockets.
    â€œPee boy, looks like you could use a little pick-me-up,” Donny observed, digging out a key-load of white powder from a small plastic zip bag. He put the key to his nose— SNORT! —then gestured the key toward Ed.
    â€œNo thanks.”
    â€œEarl?”
    â€œAh, don’t mind if I do.” Earl took a blast from a full key up his nose. He turned to Ed, “Special occasion, bro. Special occasion.”
    â€œIs that coke or crank?”
    â€œWho the hell’s got money for coke?” barked Donny. “Pure meth, boy. It lasts longer. I got a buddy that cooks it up right in his garage.”
    â€œMan, I don’t see how you guys can snort that shit. I don’t see how anyone could want to snort that shit.”
    â€œSheee-it. Snort, hell. Everybody’s smokin’ it these days,” laughed Donny.
    â€œYou’re kidding me,” responded Ed. “Fuck that.”
    â€œHell yeah, right off the foil.” Donny winked at Earl.
    â€œMan, that’s sooo bad for you. You may as well be smoking a plastic bag.”
    â€œWell, you gotta die of somethin’.”
    â€œAw, man. No thanks.”
    â€œI can see you now, Pee boy,” laughed Donny, “bored, lonely old fucker cuz you out-lived all your friends. You’ll be in the old folks home eatin’ your bean sprouts and tofu shit. Me, I’ll be long gone. If my heart explodes while I’m pumpin’ away at some fat-assed El Sob girly, that’d be okay by me. I’d go out a-grinnin’ like a bastard.” He laughed, along with Earl.
    â€œI’m sure that’s an honorable event most women could do without,” Ed said snidely.
    â€œYou’d be surprised,” insisted Donny, taking a pull from his beer. “You look like the type of guy that parties every now and then, Ed. What you talkin’ shit for?”
    â€œNothin’ wrong with some green bud once in a while. Drop a little acid, ’shrooms, maybe some X.”
    â€œX?” repeated Donny with a puzzled look.
    â€œEcstasy.”
    â€œAh, man, I heard that shit’s for fags.”
    Ed shook his head and leaned back again in his seat. The three sat in silence for a long moment before Donny spoke up. “How ’bout it there, Ed? I’ll be honest. I