The Hairy Catfish Caper, II

...Picking up from last week’s edition.

Wrapping my prize in newspaper as carefully as my wife would wrap a fine piece of China, and feeling like a kid on Christmas morning, I couldn’t wait to show Jim what Santa brought me.

At the office, Patrick hadn’t arrived yet, so I eagerly showed the fish to Jim.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” he said slyly.

Rolling the fish back up, we placed it on a shelf beside Jim’s desk.

Within a few minutes Patrick came in innocent as a lamb to the slaughter.

Another key to a good practical joke is to not hurry it along, so Jim and I shared some pleasantries with Patrick.

Then, as though we’d forgotten about it, Jim said, “Oh yeah, we’ve got something to show you.”

Because Patrick had been working with us a few months, he was immediately suspicious and took a step back, laughing nervously.

I took the lead.

“Jim and I caught a hairy catfish, and we thought we’d bring for you to see.”

Patrick followed my pointing finger to the rolled newspaper on the shelf beside him. He made a quick sidestep away.

Keeping an eye on the newspaper bundle, he said, “I’m tired of you two talking about the hairy catfish. There isn’t any such thing.”

“Whatever,” Jim said. “But there’s one in that newspaper, if you want to see it.”

“I’m not about to open that paper up! I don’t trust you two!”

I reached for the bundle. “Here, let me show you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

As if I was unwrapping an ancient mummy, I slowly unrolled the bundle onto Jim’s desk.

When Patrick saw the catfish with its perfectly coifed hairpiece, he sprung backwards as if he’d seen a snake.

Leaning forward while still keeping his distance, he said, “That’s not even real.”

Giving him our best poker faces, we feigned hurt.

“Go ahead and touch it,” Jim urged him. “See for yourself and you tell us what it is.”

Patrick touched the fish ever so lightly then quickly jerked his hand back as a nervous laugh escaped him.

Emboldened that the fish didn’t move, he eased closer and touched the hair. Without warning, he gingerly picked it up by the hair.

Dropping it back on the desk, Patrick looked at us in amazement. “I can’t believe it! It’s really true! A catfish with hair! And I thought you two were just pulling my leg. That’s amazing. I wouldn’t have ever believed it if I hadn’t seen it. Wait till I tell my dad!”

Jim and I just couldn’t bring ourselves to end the charade. Biting our lips and the inside of our cheeks, we held onto our laughter.

Instead, we echoed Patrick’s amazement at the unusual fish.

After we marveled at the fish that looked like it came from the Galapagos Islands, I rolled it back up and put it in the trunk of my car.

A couple of hours later, Jim and I went to drink coffee at the local coffee shop where the men of our town gathered to gossip.

We found ourselves at a table with Joe and John. Joe, old and grizzled, was a renowned hunter and fisherman. So, of course, the conversation ended up on the topic of hunting and fishing.

That’s when Jim surprised even me by saying, “Have you guys ever seen a hairy catfish?”

My immediate reaction was to try and kick him in the shin! Playing a prank on naïve Patrick was one thing, but trying to fool these two old timers was out of the question!

John said sagely, “I’ve seen walking catfish down in Florida.”

Joe scoffed. “There’s no such thing as a hairy catfish.”

I kept my mouth shut, but Jim pressed on.

“We caught one the other day. It’s out in David’s trunk, if you want to see it.”

Jim, Jim! You’ve bitten off more than you can chew this time. I thought to myself.

Joe and John said simultaneously, “I’ve got to see this.”

Like the boy who knows his parents are going to find out it was his baseball that broke the neighbor’s window, I dragged myself along with them.

I opened the trunk and unrolled the newspaper bundle to reveal mine and Jim’s creation.

Closing my eyes, I wait to hear the guffaws of laughter from Joe and John. When no laughter came, I opened my eyes and saw them both craning their necks and focusing their bifocals to get a better look.

“That’s the beatinest thing I’ve ever seen,” Joe exclaimed.

John chimed in, “Yes, it is.”

They asked if they could pick it up for a closer inspection.

“Sure,” I say.

Why not? We’ve carried the pretense this far. How far can it really go?

They then begin speculating how such a creature came to be.

John said, “Maybe it’s a cross between a catfish and a beaver.”

Only by faking a coughing spell was I able to conceal my laughter, and Jim was wiping tears he was so close to losing it.

Joe said, “We’ve got to carry it in the coffee shop and show it to everyone else.”

He grabbed it up and headed that way without waiting for permission from me or Jim.

As we approached the door, I could see all the men had left their tables and were peering out the windows, trying to figure out what was in my trunk that had created such an interest.

Joe walked into the middle of the crowd, scooted some coffee cups out of the way and plopped the hairy catfish on a table.

“Take a look fellas. It’s what they call a hairy catfish.”

No one was about to challenge Joe’s authentication of the creature, so they simply marveled at it.

Then one man in the back of the crowd said, “Oh I’ve seen those before. There’s a lot of them down in Florida.”

I just rolled my eyes and thought, “The first liar in this bunch doesn’t stand a chance!”

* Taken from The Wit and Wisdom of David Johnson, Volume I1: The Hairy Catfish Caper.