Hook, Line, and Singha: (or Gone Fishin')

Hook, Line, and Singha (or Gone Fishin')

Hi ho, hi ho, a trolling we will go, Boy sang to himself looking out at the torrential downpour from his rented room on the fourth floor of a shophouse in Soi Naimlis.

It was a perfect day for trolling, he thought, emptying the contents of his tackle bag onto the bed. He pondered what sort of bait or lures he should use for today's expedition.

He had a somewhat limited selection. He scratched through an array of barbs, hooks, and one-liners, in the hope of finding a suitable item for attracting one of his favourite targets, the big-mouthed Georgy. Casting aside a can of now dehydrated worms from last weeks expedition (he couldn't recall whom he had caught those off, and the case of crabs he had stored in a warm dark place he was saving for other prey) he turned to his favourite guide,
"Megabytes - Trolling for Species Expatiae in Foreign Ponds."


If you would like me to continue, please post accordingly.
If you didn't, tell a troll.


Getting caught with your pants down is bad luck. Twice begins to look like carelessness