KICK- INSTALLMENT #6

Kick stood his rod against a nearby tree, and, beer in hand, walked a short distance into the woods to take a piss. As he relieved himself against the base of a tree he suddenly became aware of a crashing noise above him. Glancing up he saw a large object spinning end over end and falling straight toward his upturned face. Kick took a step back, falling over a root, and spilling his beer. Urine soaked through his sweatpants darkening the inside of his left thigh as he fell awkwardly onto his butt. The object, which Kick instantly recognized as a largemouth bass, landed with a thud a short distance in front of him.

Kick sat on his butt, legs out in front of him, and arms braced behind him. His beer was draining silently into the forest litter as he stared at the fish. "What in the world!," he muttered.

As Kick stood up he held his urine-soaked pants away from his leg. Kick examined the bass more closely and noticed what looked like talon marks along its back. Kick estimated that the bass weighed between three and four pounds, no record breaker, but still a pretty healthy bass. As Kick sized up the fish he noticed something strange, there was something moving under the scales. It looked to kick like there was something inside the fish that was trying to get out. Occasionally, parts of the fish near the abdomen would bulge and then fall away as though something were poking and pushing it from the inside. Just as Kick was about to get his knife from the tacklebox and solve the mystery himself, the abdomen bulged and something succeeded in poking a small hole through the scales. Air or gas or something escaped through the tiny hole with a faint fluttering sound. After a brief rest, whatever was trapped inside began enlarging the hole. It worked feverishly at first slashing and hacking at the fish, but then it settled into a slower more effective rhythm.

"What in the world!," Kick said wonderingly, and as he did the creature stopped working. Kick watched for another minute or two, but it didn't resume its cutting rhythm. Whatever it was had obviously heard him, Kick reasoned, and must feel safer inside the fish than outside with him. Overwhelmed with curiosity, Kick ran to his tackle box, retrieved his knife, and and then ran back to the fish. The best he could figure was that some sort of rodent like a mouse, chipmunk or a small rat had been swallowed whole by the bass and was now gnawing its way out. Kneeling down on his knees, he made shallow cuts along the abdomen, and peeled back the skin with his fingers to reveal an exhausted looking, frightened little man.

"What in the world!," said Kick.