Sweat slid into Tommy’s eye and he ignored the burn. Mosquitos landed on the back of his neck, biting him relentlessly and he ignored their stings. He was a soldier at war and not about to give up an inch of ground this time.

The muscles in his arms ached but he manuevered on. He readied himself for just the right moment. He counted silently. He had made his plans and now he had to be ready. This was a monster bass. The biggest fish he had ever caught. Now he just had to land him.

His entire body tensed. Then with a sudden jerk, Tommy drew the rod up and flung the bass out of the water over his head and it landed high on the bank behind him.

He turned as the fish flew over him and tackled it! Throwing all his sixty-five pounds atop the fish to hold it on the solid ground. It was pure muscle and flopped like crazy. It scratched and wiggled and stank to high heaven. Grandma would be proud and mad all at the same time.

“Thomas Braden Johnson! What on earth are you doing?” Tommy’s dad was home.