Super Duper Bass Buster Plug

In honor of my dad on Father's Day

Many moons ago, long before the days of Outdoor World at Griffin Road and I-95 my dad received a shipment of super duper guarantee bass buster plugs in the mail from Bass Pro Shops. A few days later dad took us to go fishing out in the Everglades. We stopped at one of our usual spots, a canal that ran parallel to US 27 north of Alligator Alley in West Broward County. Dad secured one of those guarantee bass busters onto my line and I proudly went fishing.

Sometime later I was reeling in the super duper guarantee bass buster plug when a speeding boat rounded the corner. I furiously, yet futilely, reeled in the super duper guarantee bass buster plug. I felt the line and my pole vibrate as the boat’s spinning propellers cut the line.

The boat sped away as the plug aimlessly bobbed up and down in the wakes of the alligator infested canal. Needless to say dad was angry, not at me, but at the fact that this brand new super duper guarantee bass buster plug was slowly drifting to the other side of the canal.

The bass buster plug continued to float across that alligator infested canal as dad and I tried to snag it with another super duper guarantee bass buster plugs that he ordered. We missed and the plug disappeared as another boat sped by. He started ranting and raving and carried on about this being a brand new super duper guarantee bass buster plug that he paid good money. He would calm down only to start up again a few minutes later. Dad continued to have his insane rants followed by a few moments of sanity before starting up again. His face grew redder with every rant; thick toxic black smoke billowed out of his ears as he wildly threw his hands up in the air.

Inadvertently, I made things worse. My young keen eyes spotted that super duper guarantee bass buster plug and I pointed out to dad where it was. The thick toxic black smoke became thicker as he gazed upon that dry docked super duper guarantee bass buster plug; he started to rant and rave again until he had what can only described as a Wolf moment.

He ripped off his shoes, threw off his socks, and stormed into the canal even though the bank was full of small jagged rocks. Uh, did I mention that this canal was alligator infested? I did…good. Anyhoo, dad swam like Kermit the Frog as we watched in utter disbelief. The coots started laughing at him. Ospreys stopped what they were doing and tilted their curious heads. They tilted their feathery heads again before they flapped their wings and cackled as if to say, “Gator bait! Gator bait!”

Meanwhile, I had a flashback of reading an old Miami Herald clipping about my dad, his sisters and brother getting a new puppy after the last one had met an untimely demise at the jaws of another alligator. I prayed that I wouldn’t be seeing anything like that.

He reached the other shore and now had another problem. He couldn’t put the super duper guarantee bass buster plug in his hands or place it in his pockets. The barbs would dig into his skin, so dad put it between his teeth and swam back.

He safely returned to our side, thank God. Water poured off of him as he proudly marched back upon dry land. He triumphantly hoisted into the warm South Florida air that super duper guarantee bass buster plug that to this day has yet to catch a single bass.

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