We met Gary and Joyce at ten-thirty that day "First thing in the morning," fishermen always say Coffee wasn't happening, cold beers were instead Bad ideas were already filling our heads We sat in the shed telling stories and lies Talking big fish and imaginary size Gary said, "Boys, I got spraying to do" Fields need attention, got a list of shit I gotta do We said, "Gary, that farm ain't going nowhere" Cracked another beer and pulled up a chair Ten beers later we'd changed his whole plan Farm work can't compete with fishin', my man

Kats packed the cooler and loaded the boat But Gatorade got cut, there was no vote Eleven a.m. and my throat got dry Started looking around with a desperate eye No Gatorade or water could be found in the boat Then a much better idea came to mind no doubt Cracked open a beer and accepted my fate Some say less filling, but I said "tastes great" We dropped our lines and waited around Twenty whole minutes, not one fish found Gary said, "The fish are further south," like somehow he knew Fishermen turn scientists after beer number two

Big waves and wind had us bouncing around Whitecaps beating with a miserable sound Gary's next idea was to head for shallow water With no fish in the boat, Joyce's comfort was all that mattered Gary cracked a Miller Lite, now something felt right Then a rod bent over almost out of sight First fish of the year and we all lost our minds Twenty-one and a half inches hanging on the line Gary watched planer boards all through the day Every little jiggle would make him yell, "No way!" "BOYS THAT'S A GIANT!" he'd shout with a grin Walleye fever took over again and again