When we last left our wandering friends, Carl had just sunk a new inflatable boat he'd won in Lake Finster. At this point, Carl was not in the best of moods. We join them now as they're eating at the Dew Drop Inn Diner:

Carl took a huge bite of his Triple Dew Drop Burger, and replied: "Fwell, vettt me fut fings nnn iz fropper ferfecktvv ..."

Emma sighed. "If I told you once, I told you a zillion times please don't try to talk with your mouth full. I can't make out anything you say."

Reaching in his mouth with one large finger, Carl extracted a huge plug of chewing tobacco, and deposited it on the side of his plate. Some brackish brown juice seeped in the edge of his stack of french fries. "There. That's better. Forgot to take my plug out while I was eating."

Emma shuddered. "I still don't know how you can do that! How on earth can you have a wad of chew the size of a frog in your mouth, and still eat food at the same time?"

"Hey, it's easy! Watch. You put the plug high up in one side of your cheek, and keep your tongue between the food and the plug, then gobble away. It takes a little bit of practice." Carl popped the soggy wad of tobacco into his left cheek, making him look like a crazed chipmunk, then took a huge bite of the burger, which bulged out his other cheek. The sight would have made any pelican envious.

Emma raised her eyes skyward. "Please. Not while I'm eating!"
Carl replaced the plug on the plate, where it resumed seeping into the french fries. "You know what bugs me, Emma? I can live with the fact that I sunk that new boat. That ain't so bad. But I was really countin' on doin' some fishing. It's been a long time since I dropped a line in the water. And what could be healthier for you than fresh fish?"

"Well, it would certainly be better for you than that grease-burger you're eating. And those 30 weight french fries. And that side order of fat bacon. And that other side order of sausage."

"Aw, c'mon Emma. A man's got to have some protein in his system. You don't want me to wither away."

"Wither away? You'd be better off eating a tub of wheel bearing grease." Emma shook her head from side to side as she watched Carl eat a fistful of the french fries all stained with tobacco juice.

Carl smiled. "You know, we ought to eat here more often. These french fries have got a good kick to them. Anyways, like I was sayin', I still want to do some fishing. And we still got our old boat on the roof of The Whale. That guy at the dock says the fishing is great here at Lake Finster, so what say we give it a go tomorrow morning?"

Bright and early, as first light hit, Carl unloaded the old boat in the water, paid a small fee to the launch attendant, and fired up the 10 horse Sky King motor. Lake Finster was a good-sized chunk of water with a lot of small coves and inlets, and Carl headed for a likely spot and baited up a hook for Emma (she didn't like to touch the night crawlers), and then got out a variety of the latest lures for himself.

Carl got a crafty look in his eye and went back to The Whale while Emma finished up her Yoo Hoo Chocolate Soda.

A half hour later, they were back out on the lake, throwing lines back in the water. Apparently, no one else was having much luck, either, as the other two boats packed it up and headed for the loading ramps.

Being a stubborn type, Carl kept on keeping on. Emma had long ago given up, and spent the time reading her latest issue of Popular Knitting from cover to cover, which had a feature story that compared various knitting needles, head to head.

As the day wore on, Carl noticed that the bait shop man closed up shop and drove home, followed by the launch ramp attendant. "Well, Emma, we got the whole lake to ourselves now."

Emma looked up from her magazine. "Big deal. The only thing we've caught is three flies that I swatted. What next, oh great Bass Master?"

Carl grinned from ear to ear. "I'll tell you what's next. We're gonna get us some fish, one way or another. And I got just the thing to get the job done. Take a look here!" With that, Carl extracted a stick of dynamite from inside his shirt.

Emma was shocked. "Carl! You can't be serious! Fishing with dynamite is against the law!"

"So what? This here place ought to be against the law, what with charging people to get in, and no one can catch any fish. I just want to get my money's worth, that's all. We'll go over to the far part of the lake, get a quick limit my way, and eat good tonight."

Emma folded her arms over her bosom and got a grim look on her face. "Carl, I don't like this at all."

Twenty minutes later, Carl pulled the boat into a secluded cove, then dropped his anchor into the water to check the depth. "Hmmm. About 25 feet. This should give us a good cross section of fish, if there's anything in this stupid lake at all. Now pay attention, Emma, so you can see how a real fisherman gets things done when them stupid fish ain't biting. First thing we do, is see how the current is running. Now we're at a spot where the lake empties into a river. So what we do is toss the dynamite upstream, and then when the fish float to the surface, we just scoop 'em out of the water with our net as they float toward us. What could be simpler?"

Carl took the stick of dynamite and carefully trimmed the fuse. "Ya see, I shorten the fuse so it'll have about a five second burn. That's about how long it should take to reach the bottom. But the real trick to this, is to weight the stick down so it'll sink. So I'll just tie a sinker to the dynamite stick, to keep it from floating."

Carl wrapped a piece of fishing line around the stick, then tied a sinker to the end of the line. He extracted his faithful old Zippo lighter out of his shirt pocket, lit the fuse and tossed the stick of dynamite about 40 feet upstream.

"Now, you just watch and hold on to the net, Emma. There'll be a boom and the water might rock a bit, but at this distance, we're safe. My Uncle Fred used to do this all the time up in the hills of West Virginia."

Carl settled back in the boat, and waited.

Almost exactly two seconds later, the stick of dynamite bobbed to the surface right next to the boat. Clearly, the piece of fishing line that held the sinker on, had slipped off, thereby freeing the powerful stick of explosive.

Carl grabbed Emma by the shoulder. "Jump, woman! We got big trouble!"

The Wanderers jumped ungracefully into Lake Finster, just as the stick of dynamite bumped up against the side of the boat, and rested there. They paddled furiously away from the boat, and were about 20 feet away when a loud WHHHUUUUUMMMMPPPP! sound went off. Carl turned around just in time to see the wooden boat blast up into the air like it had hit a World War II mine!

A medium sized wave helped wash them to the nearby shore. Emma clambered up the bank and sat there, numb. Carl let out a whoop of delight! "Look here, Emma! There's a cat fish floating toward us. Hand me the net."

The doctor finished putting the bandage on Carl's head, and washed his hands. "Well, now. How did you get that nasty cut, sir?"

Carl looked sheepish. "Well, doc. My wife accidentally banged me on the head with a fishing net. You know how women are. They just don't know much about fishing."