FREE excerpt from "The Royal Roachman"

excerpt from “Royal Roachman” by Joe Parry


The morning of the opener dawned windy as radio promised. Bill, as usual, arrived two hours earlier than instructed. When Joe opened the door at his knocking, there stood Big Bill in the garb of the ultimate flyfisherman, looking as though he’d bought and was now wearing every item Orvis had in their warehouse!
“Mornin’, Billy! What is that stench?”
“Stench? What’s ‘stench’?” Bill questioned with that childish, puzzled look which always melted Joe’s “tough” heart.
“Okay, Bill, stink, s-t-i-n-k, stink! What is that stink?”
“Oh, that? Probably comin’ from where I burned this here vest in the back while tryin’ t’iron on the duct tape.”
“Duct tape? For what?”
“Well,” Bill said, “I hadda sew two vests together since the catalogs didn’t have ‘em in m’size, and not being much of a sewin’ man, I kinda had t’tidy it all up and cover the stitchin’ with duct tape. Daggone stuff don’t take much to ironin’, but aside from that, Little Buddy, how’s your ol’ pardner lookin’?”
“Fine, Bill, ya look just fine! I could probably put a down payment on the Hearst castle with less money than you musta spent on all that stuff! And how, may I ask, are you ever going to remove all those flies from your hat, even though I tied all we’ll ever need this season?”
“Like that arrangement, do ya? Why, there’s four or five dozen of them babies pinned in there. Got ‘em at the Dollar Department Store for ninety-nine cents on the dozen. Ol’ Billy here is a-ready as a Freddy and ‘um gonna knock ‘em dead today, Little Buddy!”
“Bill, the smell of that vest alone ought to knock ‘em dead! C’mon, let’s get rolling!”
At the stream: “Okay, Bill, listen up. I’ll be upstream from you just a’ways. Work those flies deep and strip line to prevent slack, so you’ll see or feel the strikes. Fish ‘em downstream and across like I taught ya and mend your line when it starts to belly on you, okay? And, Bill, pleeeeeze don’t be dropping that hat into the water or we’ll be arrested for chumming! Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it, Joe, except what do you mean ‘mend’? You can see by this vest I hain’t much of a mender!”
“Just fish, Bill, and good luck.”
Joe watched Big Bill at every opportunity. The wind was playing havoc with the leader and after just a couple of hours, and one morsel of a rainbow, Joe decided they’d better pack it in for the day.
“Hey, Billy! Let’s hang ‘er up, Big Buddy,” Joe said as he approached Bill’s position downstream. “This wind is a killer! How’d you do?”
Bill smiled that priceless smile of his and answered, “Shoot, Little Buddy, been done for nigh on fifteen minutes now. Got me eight ‘bows lickety split! How’s ‘bout you?”
Joe said, “Just got one rainbow about the size of your little finger, Bill. That’s about it.” Joe’s eyes watered as he examined Bill’s leader, which had back-to-back knots from butt to tippet. “Bill, look at your leader, fer cryin’ out loud! How’d’ya ever limit out using that thing? Looks like some crazed Boy Scout went on a rampage trying to get his knot-tying merit badge!”
“Why, Joseefus, I had a fine instructor, did I not – get it, knot?”
“Yeah, Billy, I get it. Now I think we’d best head for the Coffee Palace and call it a mornin’, okay?”
As they sat sipping coffee, they reviewed the morning’s activities. “Ya know, Chubby line chucker, I’m right proud of you!” Joe said, patting Bill’s mountainous shoulder. “Why, a limit of trout first time flyrodding? That is great! Tell me, Billy, what pattern were you using all morning?”
“I think,” Bill said, removing his fly-filled hat and scratching his head, “it was a Royal Roachman, Joe. I h’ain’t real sure now, since the daggone fly is still in that last trout I landed. I’ll find it when I clean ‘em up later an’ let ya know.”
“Bill,” Joe said, giggling, “read my lips. Say, Royal Coachman.”
As the pair were ready to leave the Palace, Joe reached into his pocket and came to realize he’d forgotten his wallet. “Doggone it, Billy, I was gonna pick up the tab, but it appears I left my wallet at home. Got any cash with you?”
“Sure I do, Tiny Tightwad, sure do!” Bill reached into the depths of his sewn-together vests and pulled forth a handful of change. A rather muddied tin fell to the floor, which caused the lip to jar open. Out onto the linoleum floor spilled a huge gob of tangled, very juicy-looking and lively red worms! Joe, in total disbelief, eyed the red worms as though they were toxic waste, then looked sternly into Bill’s squinting, guilt-ridden blue eyes.
“Think it was a Royal Roachman, huh, Big Boy?”
Bill, near frantic from fear of being strongly reprimanded, said, “Listen, Joe. I lost ever’ fly you gave me, in that big old tree behind me this mornin’, and I couldn’t free the ones stuck in m’hat. Why, that wind was horrendous, and I couldn’t get my flyline to do anything right! I just hadta use the worms so you wouldn’t think all those lessons ya gave me were for nuttin’. I wanted t’make ya proud of old Billy, so I tied on a snelled number eight and fished my worms. Caught ‘em all on the flyrod, though. Please don’t be ticked with me, Little Buddy, I was just tryin’ to make ya proud of the way ya taught me to handle the flyrod, is all!”

"Of A Predatory Heart" is available at From My Shelf Books in Wellsboro PA, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble online.