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The Assassin

by Scott Ross

Pueblo, Colorado


My brother Jeff and I were itching for the fly-fishing in Colorado to get into high gear. In preparation for it, we decided to have some fun on stockers in the Arkansas River where it flows through the city park in Pueblo, CO. We got down to the honey-hole and started fishing.

We started hammering them on midge patterns and the fun went on for quite a while. There was a fellow bait-fishing up the river a short distance from us who just couldn't keep his eyes off our action. I looked up at him periodically and noticed that he was slowly moving closer to me. This didn't bother my brother so much because he was fishing the other side of the river.

Pretty soon this guy's shoulder was no more than two feet from mine! The real funny thing is that he was acting like I wasn't even there.

Jeff was on the other side laughing at me and still hammering the fish pretty good. I was getting pretty frustrated because this fellow was throwing a fairly heavy sinker everywhere my fly would land. Still, I didn't say anything to him because my brother and I were just having fun with the stockers.

Pretty soon my action stopped, but Jeff was really pounding them on the other side. That's when this guy decided to get in on some of the action. I looked over at my brother and saw that he was really concentrating on fishing and not paying any attention to my 'partner' and me.

That's when the action really started. The "assassin'" figured that he was going to get his bait into the sweet spot and let one fly in my brother's direction. I just happened to watch his cast as it sailed to its final destination, which happened to be located in the space right between my brother's eyes! I could hear that sinker smack him all the way across the river, about 20 yards away.

Jeff was mildly stunned for a minute and I just stood there staring at the guy. I told him my brother was a pretty easygoing person until something really gets him going. I don't know if he got my real meaning because I was laughing so hard. I put my Powell down and watched to see just what would happen next. The guy didn't seem to really care about what had just happened and stated that he could fish where he wanted to. This is a true statement, but I thought to myself that it does not give you the right to fling sinkers at someone's head.

By that time, my brother had figured out what had happened and was coming across the river fast. I told the fellow that he had better get a move on before my brother reached this side of the river. He must have finally realized what he had done because he suddenly made a beeline for the trail leading from the river.

By the time Jeff got to my side of the river, the '"assassin'"' had vamoosed up the trail. When Jeff got to me, I was laughing so hard that I could hardly stand up, especially when I saw that third eye on his forehead.

Jeff and I figured that we had better call it a day before some other river terrorist decided to take pot shots at us, so we grabbed the rods and headed for cover.

Tha Assassin
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