NaPoWriMo Day 27

Touché, Mules.

A buddy of mine goes fishing most Sundays,
and in an effort to appear less interesting,
I agree to go with him. Even get all geared up:
hat, vest w/ multiple pockets, waders, etc.
I'm responsible for the cooler of Natty Light (hey,
I play to my strengths). He likes to use live
worms for bait, which grosses me out
and means I have to drink a lot before I can
stomach slipping them on the hook. He
immediately lands a big bass. I couldn't feel
more like a pansy. The Mules try to remind me
that being bad at something I look down on
should actually be self-affirming.