Dampier, WA:
Snorts of laughter are ringing out across the bow of Mike Wilson’s Bar Crusher this afternoon, as his mates watch him lean over the back, attempting to untangle another wrapped fishing line around his prop.
During the fairly unsuccessful fishing outing, Mike was forced to wonder whether dropping 90k on a boat shortly after getting his skippers ticket was a wise call.
His close friend John Giani reinforced this point to stunning effect and with a refreshing candour.
“Mate, you are a fuckwit,” he scoffed.
“I have seen children operate a fishing rod better than you,”
“In fact, now that I think about it, you have probably lost at least $300 worth of tackle today.”
Still hunched over the stern, blindly fidgeting with knotted wire and with blood pooling in his forehead, Mike felt the internal rage building as he mouthed to himself – “don’t say it.”
“You got all the gear and no idea bud!” laughed Mr Giani, unironically.
“I’ve been fishing 25 years and even I still only own a small centre console,”
“I can’t believe you splurged on this weapon and you barely know your port side from your arsehole bruv.”
Mike let out a small, helpless wail, his thumb and forefinger getting caught in a tight loop of fishing wire as the boat rose and fell in the waves. That was enough to finally set him off about defending his position.
“Fuckhead, you don’t even know how to use a computer,” he yelled in a fit of desperate rage.
“I had to show you how to save a file in Microsoft Word the other day,”
“And you still type with two fingers, get fucked aye?”
An awkward silence fell across the boat- the kind when two blokes know they have said too much and neither wants to admit their wrongdoing and reconcile. Once the fishing line was free of the prop, the pair set off quietly back to the boat ramp.
Mr Giani promptly disembarked the vessel, holding back his emotions and returning to the comfort of the recliner on his back porch to watch the Eagles lose and drink Jack Daniels, where there wasn’t a Microsoft Word for a hundred miles.