Tommy looked over at the gear he’d brought with him. No way could he haul in that big bass on the rod he had with him. Plus, he his reel was loaded with four pound test line. He wasn’t even sure he could tie a decent knot that would hold a lure that would catch that bass’ attention to get a strike.

“Look Mr. BlueCat. I know he’s a pain. He’s a pain for me. But my daddy’s working. I can’t tie a good knot and I don’t have any bass stuff.” Tommy shrugged his shoulders and moved back to his rod and reel, readying to cast back for more bream.

“Eet iz Bleu, no Blue. Shtupeed, buuee. Und, eef ew, hev sahn weesh, ew hev bess shtush,” Bleu_Cat answered as he went down for another _breath. Tommy looked puzzled. As BleuCat resurfaced, Tommy said, “Sanwish?” Breakfast?”

“Sahnstwish, besh stusfsh.”

“Sandwish, bandstuff?”

They stare at each other for a long moment. Obviously the communication had broken down, between boy and fish.

Suddenly Tommy grinned, “Sandwich, Bass stuff!!“

Bleu slapped the water, “OUI!”