This short story is from <Heartwarming Collection of Short Stories for Seniors: 2 Books in 1> by Bradley Windrow. It is perfect for seniors, even for dementia patients. Be sure to read until the end, as there’s a special gift waiting for you! hope you enjoy it!
The pessimist complains about the wind; the optimist expects it to change; the realist adjusts the sails. –William Arthur Ward
Every year for the past two decades, Harold and Earl took their annual fishing trip to the local lake. This year, Harold was determined—it was time to dethrone Earl, who had bragged about catching the biggest fish for three years straight. The rusty old boat creaked as they loaded it with their gear, snacks, and far too much confidence.
“Today’s the day, Earl,” Harold said, casting a competitive glance. Earl chuckled, giving the boat a good shove from the shore.
“We’ll see about that, Harold. You always talk big.”
A few hours in, all was peaceful. The fish weren’t biting much, but Harold and Earl were locked in their usual banter. That’s when Harold noticed something off. His feet felt… damp.
“Earl, why is the floor wet?” Harold asked, frowning.
“It’s a boat, Harold. It’s on water. Course it’s wet.” Earl waved him off. But soon, the water wasn’t just a light splash. It was rising. Fast.
“No, Earl. We’ve got a leak!” Harold pointed at the growing puddle. Earl peeked down his brow furrowing.
“Well, I’ll be.” Still, he wasn’t ready to give up. “We can fix this.” Earl rummaged through the tackle box, pulling out an old sock. He stuffed it into the hole with far too much confidence. “There. Good as new.”
“A sock, Earl? That’s your solution?” Harold stared at him, incredulous.
“Worked in 82,” Earl said, crossing his arms proudly. For about five minutes, it did work. But then, predictably, the sock soaked through, and the leak got worse. Harold grabbed a coffee mug and started bailing water.
“We need to head back before we end up swimming!”
“Nah, we’ve got time,” Earl said, casting his line again. “Might as well catch something before we go under.” Harold shook his head but couldn’t help laughing. Only Earl would be fishing while the boat was sinking. When Harold was about to demand they head back, something tugged hard on his line.
“I’ve got one!” he yelled, eyes wide. It wasn’t just any fish—it was the fish, the one Harold had been waiting to catch for years.
“Forget the boat!” Harold shouted, reeling in the monster fish with everything he had.
“Told you we’d catch something before sinking!” Earl, water now sloshing around his knees, grinned. The boat continued to sink as Harold fought to reel in the fish. The water rose higher, Harold’s line pulled harder, and Earl kept laughing, determined to see this through.
Just as Harold finally got the fish close, the boat gave up entirely. With a dramatic gurgle, it sank beneath them, leaving Harold and Earl waist-deep in the lake. Their gear floated around them, bobbing like debris from a shipwreck. Soaked but victorious, Harold held up the massive fish.
“I win!” he declared, grinning ear to ear.
“Yeah, yeah. But next time, we’re bringing a boat that floats.” Earl, still chuckling, waved him off. They waded back to shore, laughing the whole way, already planning their next trip—sink or swim.
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