Ice Flounder

Me and McDougal and some old college buddies were ice fishing up in Maine a few years ago. We used to go every year after McDougal lost his job at the steel mill. He'd been out of work for about four and a half years at that point, and McDougal said that was going to be the last trip he was going to be able to take, so we wanted to make it a big one.

Anyway, the fourth night we were up there, me and McDougal were the only guys out on the pond. Everyone else had either already gone to bed, or McDougal and stabbed and eaten them in the previous days.

McDougal looks over at me with those puppy dog eyes, and says to me,

"Harley," he always calls me that. "Harley," he says. "I need some money."

Now you all know how proud McDougal is. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't really need it.

So I say, "Sure thing, buddy. How much you need?"

Well, you know McDougal goes big when he goes.

He says to me, "Harley, I need three and a quarter million dollars."

"Jesus, McDougal," I say. "You know I don't have access to that kind of capital."

"Well," he says. "What kind of access do you have?"

I tell him I'm good for maybe six grand.

He says, "Six grand? I wipe my ass with that. Come on, Harley. I'll give it back to you ten-fold in two hours. But I need a significant investment here."

I say, "I don't know, McDougal. I can maybe scrub together like $20 grand if I know I'm getting it back."

"TIMES TEN" McDougal booms.

"Right," I say. Though I have to admit -- I'm doubtful.

"OK," I say. "Maybe $25,000."

"That's the spirit," McDougal says. Then he holds out his hand. No shit. He holds out his hand like I'm going to give it to him right there on the lake.

"I don't have it on me, McDougal."

"Well," he says. "How much do you have on you?"

I take out my wallet and count out $240 and another $200 in money orders.

He motions for me to give it to him.

I didn't want to, but I also didn't want to get stabbed and eaten. So I gave it to him.

That crazy bastard then takes all of it and dumps it in the lake. Right there in front of me. Dumps it in the lake and goes back to fishing.

I say, "McDougal -- that's my money for getting back home. What am I gonna do now?"

He doesn't say a word. Just keeps fishing.

Thirty minutes later, he reels in a massive flounder and says, "There. I told you I'd get your money back." He hands it to me and re-baits his line.

I say, "McDougal. I never seen anyone catch a flounder while ice fishing, and this is truly amazing. But I can't exactly pay for a hotel with this."

Well, McDougal's pissed at this point. He stands up and punches me dead in the face. Knocks out every one of my teeth. Then he yanks the flounder from my hands, cuts it open, and pulls out a gold brick and $3,200 in 100s and 20s.

He shoves the money in my mouth and puts the gold brick up my ass, then he walks off.

I couldn't find him for six months after that.

He didn't call me until he bought a house in Malibu and invited me and the kids out for a barbecue.