Excerpt from Richard Brautigan's "Trout Fishing in America"
The trout had a big red stripe down its side.
It was a good rainbow.
"What a beauty," he said.
He picked it up and it was squirming in his hands.
"Break its neck," I said.
"I have a better idea," he said. "Before I kill it, let me at least soothe its approach into death. This trout needs a drink." He took the bottle of port out of his pocket, unscrewed the cap and poured a good slug into the trout's mouth.
The trout went into a spasm.
He laid the trout on a white rock, head down, and some of the wine trickled out of its mouth and made a stain on the rock.
The trout was lying very still now.
"It died happy," he said.
"This is my ode to Alcoholics Anonymous."
It was a good rainbow.
"What a beauty," he said.
He picked it up and it was squirming in his hands.
"Break its neck," I said.
"I have a better idea," he said. "Before I kill it, let me at least soothe its approach into death. This trout needs a drink." He took the bottle of port out of his pocket, unscrewed the cap and poured a good slug into the trout's mouth.
The trout went into a spasm.
He laid the trout on a white rock, head down, and some of the wine trickled out of its mouth and made a stain on the rock.
The trout was lying very still now.
"It died happy," he said.
"This is my ode to Alcoholics Anonymous."