Poetic License;

Eventually they had enough wood for an Aggie Bonfire (if you allow Babe the Blue Ox plowed the Grand Canyon,) and took up where they left off in conversation, exercising their brains while they rested their bodies. "Tell me again why we have to get a license to fish?" she reminded him. He grinned and took a deep breath. "It's because they just don't care a lick if people know how to fish or not!" he said, laying the groundwork for his oration. Being herself conversant with the joys of dance, she made no protest, but asked "If they don't care if people know how or not, what's the point of a license at all?" "First allow me to convince you that they truly do not care," he requested. She consented to listen, and he continued momentarily. "If they wanted you to know HOW, they'd have a test, instead of just adding it to hunting licenses for free." "I see where you're coming from, but not where you are going with it," she said noncommittally. "What kind of test?" She wondered if it might be a 9 pound test, or some such thing, but was NOT about to assist his folly. "Well the fundamentals at the VERY least." he responded. "For example, what's the DEFINITION of Fishing?" Her clarity of thought was impeded by previous angling for compliments and she had no ready comeback. "I don't know," she allowed. "It is as follows: A jerk on one end of the line, awaiting a jerk on the other end of the line." he said in a pedantic tone. This time she could clearly see the value of his point. "You really DO know how to fish," she said flatteringly. "Please continue." The test could hardly be comprised of only ONE question. "What's the most _important_ thing to know ABOUT fishing?" he asked next. "I don't know." She was not wasting any time slowing him down. "To catch a bass, you HAVE to open a fresh NEW can of worms!" This wisdom was novel to her ear, but appealed to her Texan experience. She mentally closed one parenthetical comment and returned to his original point before HE could. "So what's the point of having a license at ALL?" she reiterated. "There's the beauty of it," he said, illuminating a fundamental truth of politics. "So you can fish WITHOUT one." She dutifully reviewed such credentialing as she enjoyed, and verified that, without exception, this was true of ALL licenses. To show him her comprehension, she agreed. "How else are they GOING to pay Park Rangers? They probably ought to have one for computers TOO." Sam's appearances belied his supple brain. "I need a Fosters," she shared. "And by the way, got some wood?" "I'm busy pitching a tent over here," he called. "I'll help you directly," she replied. It was getting dark.

"A Fine State of Affairs" should follow.