LuLu-Bell and the One That Got Away

(Winner of Honourable Mention in "Invalid Item"  )

Everything is bigger in Texas.

That's how the saying goes at least. It's true too,
but most folks don't brag about it none. Shoot, most
Texans don't even notice things are bigger. Mostly cause
that's just the normal size things are 'round here.

Take fishin' fer instance. Most folks, when they go fishin',
least-wise in other states, they're happy when they catch
a two 'er three pound fish. Here in Texas we jest fling
'em back unless they's at least ten pounds. 'Taint
nuthin' ta mosey down ta the crik for a spell, pull
seven 'er eight fiften pound catfish out and head home
fer supper.

I'm not partial ta' fishin' myself. Gets borin' too fast.
I want'a be up 'en doin' stuff. But my cousin, Lulu-Bell,
she was the fishin'est gal I ever seen. Every day durin'
the summer there was never anywhere you could find her
'cept down at the crik pullin' catfish out by the
bucketfull. She fished so much that purtty soon there
weren't but small 'uns in the crick. Nuthin' bigger'n
about seven pounds. That didn't stop her though, she'd
jest pull 'em out, and toss 'em back, then do it again.

Well that would'a been the end 'a the story, cept it's
not. See the crik, it ran down ta' the Colorado and joined
up 'neath a big 'ol overpass bridge. Water was always
dangerous there, kids didn't go swimmin' in it cause
too many of 'em had jumped in an never come up again.
Bodies vanished and all. Folks figured there was some
kind of underground river that sucked 'em down, so they
put up signs and kept the kids away.

Lulu-Bell, she figured that's where all the fish'd gone
that summer and she planned on catchin' a few more 'a
the big'ins. She talked me in ta coming along, jest ta
bait the hooks and watch fer rattlers. I should'a knowed
better, bein' as it was Lulu-Bell's idea, but in a moment
'a insanity, I said yes.

Four 'o clock in the mornin' ain't my idea of a good time
ta do nuthin' but sleep. She wanted ta get ta the fish while
they were of the same opinion though, so she dragged me
out into the dark and we headed down to the Colorado.

Now before I go any further, let me explain' sumin' else.
Lulu-Bell, when she weren't catchin' fish, was muddin'. She
had the biggest, baddest 4X4 in the entire state. It sat
up on three lift-kits and ya needed a ten foot ladder jest
ta get into the thing. She'd had some outfitter shop
weld a couple high-dive ladders she'd got from a pool that
was closin' onto the runnin' boards jest so she didn't
hafta carry a ladder a round with her.

This truck now, not only was it set up ta mud, but she'd
bought a big 'ol wench and mounted it in the bed. Used it
fer pullin' stumps and draggin' the deer other folks hit
on the road in winter.

So here we was, up in that truck, roarin' down the high
way at 4am, toward the Colorado river. Radio was blarin',
Lulu-Bell was rattlin' on 'bout all the fish she was
sure was hidin' in that ol' swimmin' hole and I was
tryin' ta get a few more z's.

We come around a curve and dead in the road ahead of
us was this little import thing. Couldn'ta been
big enough for two kids ta get inta much less an
adult, but it was toolin' down the road pretty as you
please. Lulu-Bell was flyin', doin' probably 80 or
so, and that midget car was dragin' along at about
40. She let out a string 'o cuss words, blew the
horn. which she'd bought off a big rig driver fer
five 6-packs and a kiss, then drove right over top
'o that car! Thankfully it was as skinny as it
was short, the wheels on the truck just missed it
on both sides and we didn't even scratch the paint.

Well we went on down the road, headed fer that
swimmin' hole and about 10 second's later, red lights
suddenly came on in the rear view mirror. That car
turned out ta be a cop in one of those new fangled
sport models. He weren't too pleased about bein' run
over, even if we didn't actually do anything, and he
was aimin' ta tell us all about it.

Lulu-Bell hit the gas and kicked the truck inta
overdrive. Them fish was waitin' and she didn't
want ta mess with any delays. The cop weren't too
happy with that though, he kicked his fleamobile inta
overdrive too and the chase was on.

We headed down the road, takin' the curves at about 120,
with that cop right behind us untill Lulu-Bell decided
she'd had enough and cut across country. Now the truck,
as I mentioned, was set up ta mud. It could go just
about anywhere an' not even feel it. The cop's car though,
it was set up fer speed on the road and he tried ta
follow us. Not sure what happened ta him really, just
watched his flashin' lights gettin' further and further
behind fer a bit till they was all gone.

Now I mentioned it was dark. Well they don't put street
lights out in the middle of no-where in texas. They usually
don't even put 'em on the roads, much less where we was
now drivin'. Lulu-Bell's headlights lit up the landscape
right nice but only fer a little ways. That was why we
didn't see the cliff till we drove off it.

T'was a right nice cliff too, about 50 feet high. We sailed
out over the Colorado river and dropped straight down,
landin' in 30 feet of water with huge splash. The truck
jest floated on over ta the other bank on them big, oversized
tires she's got and we drove out jest fine. Got a free
car-wash ta boot.

Well Lulu-Bell figured, since we'd found the river, even
though it weren't the fishin' hole, she'd try ta fish some.
So we drove upstream, away from the splash, where the
fish would still be asleep. Took about an hour before we
found nice bank and jest as the sun was peeking up inta
the sky, we stopped the truck and got out.

I ain't gonna bother ya with the details of that mornin'.
It was the borin'est mornin' I've ever had. I must'a baited
100 hooks fer her. She kept snaggin' em on stuff, and
breakin' the line on stuff and I finally got fed up. Told
her I was good an' tired and wanted ta go home.

Now I don't know what it was that got ta her, maybe the
threat of goin' home without even a fish. But she cast
that line one last time and danged if she didn't hook one.
Big one too. It dang near pulled the pole right outta
her hands. I had ta grab it too, and that fish was almost
too strong for both of us. Now we fought with that fish fer
about five minutes, and we was losin', till Lulu-Bell got
her bright idea. She left me holdin' the pole,
turned on that winch, and wraped the cable around the
fish line. Then we both jumped outta the way and she reeled
in that fish.

Danged if that fish didn't just about pull the truck inta
the river! It woulda too, but suddenly the cable snapped
and slung out over the river. Lulu-Bell jest stood there
cussin' a blue streak, glarin' at the water. She was all
set to jump in, go get her pole back when suddenly somethin'
come up outta the water!

We stood there watchin', our mouths hangin' open, while this
little yellow submarine surfaced and two Aggies poked
their heads out. They shouted somethin' we couldn't hear,
then one of 'em jumped inta the river and went under the
sub. He come back up a couple minutes later draggin' the
winch cable with him and swum over ta the shore.

Lulu-Bell went all red and couldn't say nuthin' when he
handed it to her, cept ta mumble sorry a few times. He
jest shook his head, jumped back in the river, got
back in his sub and they dove outta sight again.

Lulu-Bell gave up then and we headed fer home. She made
me promise not ta tell anyone what happened, and she
gave up fishin' fer good after that. Took up hockey
instead. I still got ta have the last laugh though,
cause I had my camera that day and on my mantle's
a picture of her holdin' that cable, starin' out
inta the river with the caption 'you shoulda seen the
one that got away!'

(Written for the Texas Tall Tales group on writerscafe.org)