“A Fishy Christmas Tale”
By Derrick R. Stallings – HuntingOfficer
Christmas in the Jackson household was usually a calm affair—hot cocoa, cheesy Christmas movies, and Michael Jackson’s Christmas album playing on the stereo. But this year, Michael Jackson (not the singer Michael Jackson, but just regular Dad Michael Jackson) decided to shake things up.
It all began on a cold December morning, a week before Christmas. Michael stood in the kitchen, wrapped in a plaid bathrobe, surveying his family with the self-satisfied grin of a man who had just discovered electricity. Nicole, his wife of 17 years, looked up from her newspaper with a raised eyebrow, a sign she knew he was up to something.
“I’ve been thinking, y’all,” Michael began, a hint of mischief in his tone.
“Oh, here we go,” said CeeCee, the eldest, rolling her eyes. She had an impressive eye-roll repertoire, honed by years of practice.
Michael cleared his throat and looked around at his girls. “This Christmas, we’re going fishing!”
Nicole spit out her coffee. “Michael, have you been sniffing too much of that pine-scented spray in the garage?”
“Now, hear me out,” Michael said, holding up a hand. “I know we’ve never done it before, but don’t you think it’d be an adventure? The five of us—well, six including Boogie—out on the lake, catching dinner with our own hands?”
“Dad,” said Lisa, the middle daughter, “since when do you know how to fish?”
“Yeah,” chimed in Jennifer, the youngest. “You can barely keep a houseplant alive.”
“Hey now!” Michael protested, looking a little wounded. “Fishing’s in our blood. I watched Wild Kingdom when I was a kid. Plus, I bought us a bunch of fishing gear. Half-off, on sale at Sears.”
Nicole shook her head, but she had that look in her eye that suggested she might be warming to the idea. “You really think this is gonna be some kind of family bonding thing?”
Michael smiled and took her hand. “Think of it as a Christmas adventure, Nicole. Something the girls will remember forever.”
Oh, they’d remember it all right.
Chapter 1: Gearing Up
The morning of the big fishing trip, the Jacksons piled into the family’s old Chevy Caprice. Boogie the dog bounded in after them, his tail thumping against everyone’s shins as he panted excitedly. He had no idea what was happening, but if it meant he got to bark at things, he was in.
The girls were bundled up in a ridiculous amount of layers—Michael’s orders. “Can’t have you out there catching pneumonia,” he’d said as he swaddled them in so many scarves and mittens they looked like three very skeptical snowmen. Nicole had only a slightly smaller number of layers, including a pink beanie that she insisted made her look “like a fashion-conscious Eskimo.”
When they arrived at the lake, Michael marched them to the water’s edge, where he’d set up a folding table with all the fishing gear. Nicole’s jaw dropped.
“Michael, how much did you buy?” she asked, eyeing the table piled with rods, tackle boxes, bait, buckets, and a portable heater.
“Like I said—Sears. Fifty percent off.” He held up a little worm container with pride. “I even got live bait!”
CeeCee wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting.”
Michael grinned. “It’s bait, CeeCee. It’s not supposed to be pretty.”
Chapter 2: The Cast-off Catastrophe
“Alright, family!” Michael said, lining everyone up on the shore, like they were in a fishing boot camp. “First thing’s first, you’ve gotta learn how to cast.”
Nicole watched her husband hold his fishing rod in both hands, his face twisted in intense concentration. She wasn’t sure if he looked more like a fisherman or someone struggling to open a stubborn jar of pickles.
“Okay, so you just swing it back—gently,” he said, demonstrating with an exaggeratedly slow motion, “and then you fling it forward, nice and easy. Got it?”
Everyone gave it a try, and right away, chaos ensued.
CeeCee tried first, swinging her rod like she was a major league pitcher. The line went flying wildly into the trees behind her, catching on a branch. Michael hurried over to help her disentangle it, muttering, “Maybe a little less umph, sweetheart.”
Lisa was next, giving a halfhearted flick of her wrist. The line plopped directly into the water a few feet in front of her, nowhere near the “prime fishing spot” her dad had picked out. “See, Lisa, you gotta give it some elbow grease,” Michael encouraged. “Not too much, though! We don’t want a repeat of what CeeCee did.”
Finally, it was Jennifer’s turn. She was the most enthusiastic of the three and, eager to impress, whipped her line back with all her might. The hook came around in a glorious arc and… latched firmly onto Boogie’s tail.
Boogie yelped and took off, zooming in circles around the family, the fishing line trailing behind him like some strange leash, while Jennifer cried, “Boogie, no! Come back!”
Nicole doubled over with laughter. “Michael, I’m just gonna go ahead and say it—this was a terrible idea!”
Chapter 3: Dinner… or Disaster?
Once they finally got Boogie calmed down and the hooks cast into the lake, the family settled down into the monotony of fishing: casting, waiting, and staring at water. The only problem was… nobody was catching anything.
“Well, this is going swimmingly,” Nicole snickered.
“Fishing takes patience,” Michael replied defensively. “We just gotta wait for the fish to come to us.”
They waited. And waited. And waited.
Jennifer started humming the “Jaws” theme, earning a few chuckles from her sisters. Lisa began pulling snacks out of her bag, offering cheese crackers to everyone. Even Boogie lay down and sighed, as if he’d resigned himself to a long, boring day of waiting for… nothing.
Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Michael’s fishing rod jerked. He leapt to his feet, yelling, “I got one! I got one!”
Nicole and the girls jumped up, cheering. Boogie barked in agreement.
Michael wrestled with the line, his face strained in concentration. “Come on, fishy,” he muttered. “Come on now…”
Finally, with a triumphant heave, he pulled the fish out of the water. It was… the tiniest fish any of them had ever seen.
CeeCee tried her best to hold in her laughter, but a snort escaped her. “Dad, is that even big enough to eat?”
“More like big enough for an appetizer,” Lisa giggled.
Michael frowned at the fish, then tossed it back. “Alright, fine. Practice fish. Let’s go for a bigger one.”
Chapter 4: Boogie’s Big Splash
As the day dragged on, the family continued to catch nothing but tiny fish. Boogie, who had grown increasingly bored, started sniffing around the bait. Without anyone noticing, he managed to knock over a container of live worms, sending them squirming all over the ground.
“Boogie!” CeeCee yelled, leaping back. “Gross!”
The dog sniffed a worm curiously, then, before anyone could stop him, he lunged forward and ate one.
“Boogie!” Lisa shrieked. “No! Those are not snacks!”
But it was too late. Boogie had gotten a taste for worms, and he was scarfing them down like Christmas treats. CeeCee and Lisa tried to pull him away, but he wriggled free and headed straight for the lake, barking and running in circles.
“Boogie, no!” Nicole cried as Boogie skidded down the muddy shore and splashed into the freezing water.
With a mixture of horror and hilarity, the family watched as Boogie paddled around, chasing his own reflection in the lake, completely oblivious to the cold.
Michael ran down to the water’s edge, shouting, “Boogie, get outta there before you freeze your tail off!”
At last, Boogie splashed his way back to shore, soaked and shivering, looking very proud of himself.
Nicole shook her head, holding a towel as she tried to dry him off. “Your father’s right, Michael,” she said with a laugh. “This was an adventure. Just not the one any of us signed up for.”
Chapter 5: The Drive Home (And Some Fishy Takeout)
After an hour more with no catches, the Jackson family decided it was time to pack up. Cold, hungry, and thoroughly over the idea of a lakeside Christmas feast, they trudged back to the car with Boogie trotting behind them, his tail wagging despite his damp fur.
As they drove back toward the suburbs, Nicole said, “Alright, Michael, admit it. This was a disaster.”
Michael shrugged. “I’ll admit it was… not the fishing triumph I was hoping for. But look, we all made it out in one piece, didn’t we?”
“Barely,” said Lisa, rubbing her cold hands together. “And Boogie ate half the bait!”
They laughed, even Michael, as he steered the car toward their favorite neighborhood diner. “Tell you what,” he said. “How about we make it up to ourselves with some
nice hot fish sandwiches?”
They all cheered, even Boogie, who barked excitedly in the back seat as if he, too, understood the bliss of takeout.
