Monday, February 11, 2019

Mike's Gone Missin'...


No one’s seen him ‘round these parts in months, nigh on a year. Not since McMinnville. Some say those Tennessee backwaters swallowed him up whole or that a big mama musky ate him as a snack, the bony little bastard. Others claim he’s giggin' with some skanky blues band, touring the dive bars and low places along the Gulf coast for gas money and beer. Getting thrown out of most. And there’s a lady in Pittsboro that swears he’s off working on the next Great American Novel. But, let’s face it, if he’s writing it ain't on no novel. More likely he’d be stuck in an endless editing loop on an obscure six hundred-word piece, hoping some fly fishing mag might lower their standards, just enough.

Sure, there have been sightings. Unsubstantiated, of course. Odd trickles of reports. Idaho. Michigan. The Louisiana marshlands and south Georgia swamps. Then there's the quiet suggestions that the fishin’s been shit around his home waters for so long that he’s given up the sport entirely - and with it, his soul. Who knows? One thing’s for sure. Wherever he’s been, it hasn’t been here. This blog's been silent as a tomb.

But lately, there have been whispers…

7 comments:

Greg F said...

Glad that the rumors of your death have been highly exaggerated.

Anonymous said...

Vampires are a myth, open the tomb.

THE RIVER DAMSEL said...

Hope there are fishy posts around the corner... Vacations from blogging happen. =)

Ken G said...

Based on the internets, quite a few that once was has gone missing.

Got a draft version of a post called Bring Out Your Dead that addresses that very thing.

Might finish it.

Might not.

Sandy Harris said...

Hell, I heard you moved in with Troy........

Mike Sepelak said...

So am I, Greg. So am I.

Not messin' with the dead, Anon. No way.

Hoping the very same thing, RD.

Anxiously awaiting it, Ken. Post it!

You're killin' me Sandy.

Clif G said...

It happens.