The Fishing Derby
(November 15, 2008)

I have had my fair share of bizarre first date dating locations; ghost walks, Question Period, a court sentencing, but my date with Wilbur is near the top of the list.

For our first date, Wilbur took me to the Gwillimbury Semi Annual Fishing Derby.

There I found myself on Elizabeth Pond fishing with a guy named Wilbur. We sat in the boat chatting as Wilbur waited for a bite on his line. Surprisingly, sitting in a boat in the middle of a pond is a get place to get to know someone. There is nothing else to do but talk.

And talk we did. And I liked the way he talked.

“I like your outfit Suzy.”
“Your shoes, those pink duckies look amazing on you.”
“Well let me just say that you Suzy TooToo are the prettiest fisherwoman in the world.”

After all the truths, Wilbur had still not caught a fish.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think we are in too wide open of a space. Let’s try those pussywillows over there near the far shore. I bet the fish are hiding in there.”

We rowed to the fishing hole. Within moments, Wilbur’s bobber on his fishing pole dove below the water. With a quick jerk of the fishing pole, the bobber emerged and jumped above the water. Attached to its hook was a giant fish.

“Hugely Mackerel!”

“What is it?” I asked.
“Why Suzy, it’s a Mackerel. A huge one too. This should finally win me the derby! Oh how I wanted so many years to win the Gwillimbury Semi Annual Fishing Derby.”

After Wilbur stopped beaming, he turned to me.

“Now it’s your turn.”
“Me fish? I don’t think so.”
“You can’t be the prettiest fisherwoman if you don’t fish. I guess…”
“Give me that rod.”

We left the pussywillows for the open pond. I questioned the change in location.
“Suzy, the odds of catching two fish in the same spot are rare.”
“I thought they swam in schools?”
“Oh, um, well….”
“You’re afraid I might catch a bigger fish than you!”

“Anyway, here we are in the middle of the pond. Cast away.”
I casted away.

To Wilbur’s surprise, instantly my bobber ducked below the water. With a flick of my wrist, the bobber was jumping in the air – with a giant fish attached to the hook.

“Suzy TooToo, master fisherwoman.” I proclaimed.
There was silence. It was clear that Wilbur was worried that my fish was bigger. Finally he spoke.

“We’ve each had a good catch. Let’s leave the rest of the fish for the pretenders. You up for some hot apple cider back on shore?”

I concurred.

As Wilbur rowed us to shore, I noticed an old man in a run down boat. He was fishing but without a rod. His line was a piece of string that he held between his wrinkly old hands. I cannot confirm or deny a hook was at its end.

“Who’s that?”
“Oh, him, that’s the Old Man of the Pond.”
“Where’s his rod, his bobber?”
“Who knows but every year he wins.”

Wilbur looks down at his mackerel.
“But not this year. This year it’s Wilbur’s year!”

I turned for one last glimpse of the old man’s silhouette against the sunset. Instead I saw something bad. Very bad.

I witnessed the old man, stand up and take off his left boot. Then he turned it upside down and shook it violently. Out popped a fish. An enormous fish!

“Wilbur that Old Man of the Pond just pulled a huge fish out of his boot! He’s cheating!”

By the time Wilbur turned, the Old Man of the Pond had quickly put on his boot and sat down. He had transformed from cheating geezer to Old Man of the Pond.

“The sea can play funny tricks on one’s eyes, Suzy.”
“It’s a pond not the sea.”
“Ponds too.”

After our hot apple cider, it was time for the awards ceremony. On a makeshift wooden stage stood the Master of Ceremonies. He was dressed in a tuxedo with a cane and a black top hat. I don’t like to judge people but he seemed a bit uppity.

“Hello, I am your Minister of Natural Resources, the Honourable Montague Wigglesworth. It’s with great pleasure that I am here today…”

The man continued for five minutes.

“And now the awards. In third place…. Miss Suzy TooToo.”
Wilbur gave a sound of relief as I did not catch a bigger fish than him.
“Hooray for me!” I shouted.

“And in second place… Wilbur Patterson.”
“What? You got to be kidding me.”

“And the winner of the 43rd annual semi-annual Gwillimbury Fish Derby, for the 43rd straight year is…”
It was the Old Man of the Pond. The man who I caught cheating.

Wilbur was devastated.
“I thought I had the fish this year.”

Throughout the day Wilbur had grown on me. It hurt me to see him sad. So I tried to fix the problem as I knew best. As the Old Man of the Pond stood on stage, I screamed.
“That Old Man cheated!”

The applause stopped
“Suzy, what are you doing?”
“Helping you.”
“Um please don’t.”

“I demand an investigation!”

The man with the top hat bellowed.
“There is only way one to settle this – Bring out the polygraph!”
“Oh no.” Wilbur murmured.
“A lie detector test. Are they serious?”
“I’m afraid so.”

The polygrapher appeared on stage with his machine. In a few minutes, I found myself wired to it.

“Is your name Suzy TooToo?”
“Yes.”
“Are you from Alaska?”
“No.”
“Are you on a date with Wilbur Patterson?”
“Yes.”
“Did you cheat?”
“No.”
“Did you see the Old Man of the Pond cheat?”
“Yes.”

“Mr. Official – she is telling the truth.”

There was a hush among the crowd.

“Let’s get the accused up here. Old Man of the Pond.”
The Old Man, with the help of the top hatted Official, climbed onstage. He was asked a bunch of basic questions. Then came the big one.
“Did you cheat?”
“No.”

“Mr. Official – he is telling the truth.”

The crowd gasped.

“How is this possible? How can we both be telling the truth? Obviously one of us is lying.”

The polygrapher took me aside.
“Yes it is true that one of you is lying however both of you believe you are telling the truth. The machine can only detect someone who knows they are lying. It won’t pick up a lie if the person believes what they said – although a lie – is the truth.”

The Official interrupted.
“We’ll I guess someone’s wild accusation was wrong, wasn’t it?”

“Gentlemen, may I present the winner of the…”
“Wait.” The polygrapher said.

It was clear the Official did not like being interrupted. He believed he was the top hat of the ceremony.

“What the goose now?”
“If Wilbur can collaborate Suzy’s story, then it’s 2 against 1.”

“I don’t think that is necessary.”

The crowd began to chant “Wilbur! Wilbur!”
The Official, obviously no longer in control of the situation, became angry.
“Fine. Wilbur. Get your goosing bum up here.”

Wilbur slowly appeared on stage. He was asked the same run-of-the-mill questions. Then the most important question of the day.

“Wilbur did you see the Old Man of the Pond cheat?”
“Yes.”

“Mr. Official – Wilbur is telling the truth!”

“But Wilbur I thought you didn’t see the Old Man cheat.”
“Maybe I just didn’t want to believe it until now.”

I was so happy for Wilbur’s victory that I grabbed the first place trophy. As I was about to hand it to my date the Official rudely interrupted.

“Before I present this trophy, I have one more question for Wilbur. Wilbur, did you cheat?”
“No.”

The polygraph made a horrible sound.

“Mr. Official – Wilbur is lying.”

Another hush fell upon the crowd.

The Official leaned into a strapped Wilbur.

“Wilbur Patterson you are in a lot of trouble. You better spill it.”
“I think the machine made a mistake.”
“Wilbur, the machine didn’t lie. You did. Now out with it. How did you cheat?”
“I…”
“Wilbur we’ll talking serious fishing licence suspension time. The length is up to you. What is it, one or three years suspension?”
“Three years? I can’t do three years.”
“Wilbur.”
“All right I did cheat. I did cheat! Last night I stashed a huge mackerel under the pussywillows. This afternoon I simply reeled it in. I wanted to win so badly.”

“Well Wilbur, you are officially disqualified from the tournament.”

I hugged my 1st place trophy. The Official snatched it from my hug.

“Excuse me Miss TooToo, What do you think you are doing?”
“Wilbur verified that the Old Man cheated. And Wilbur cheated. So that means I win first place.”

“Wilbur’s disqualification removes him from the derby. It also removes his testimony from the derby.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Since Wilbur cheated, his testimony does not count. Thus it is no longer two against one. It’s one against one. Since you can’t prove this gentleman cheated, he is the winner.”

“Because you wear a top hat, you get to make the rules around here?”
“No, it’s because of this.”
He pointed to his badge.
“You see this. It’s says Minister of Natural Resources. And you know what that means? It means I can do whatever the goose I want! You hear me – whatever the goose I want.”

I never understood the goose references until that moment. A high class uppity top hat wearing man like Montague Wigglesworth did not curse. Not even the word “fuddle duddle”. Instead he substitutes the word “goose” for the F-word.

“Go screw a goose and give me my trophy!”

“Go screw a goose? I don’t need your permission. I’m the Minister of Natural Resources. If I want to goose a goose, I’ll goose a goose until his goose is cooked. You hear me! You hear me – until his goose is goosed. You Mother Gooser!”

I ignored my goose-aholic enemy and turned to the polygrapher and my date.

“Is this thing still hooked up to Wilbur?”
He nodded.
“Wilbur, do you like my outfit?”
“Not really.”

“Suzy TooToo – Wilbur is telling the truth.”

“And am I the prettiest fisherwoman you have ever seen?”
“Yes.”

The machine made a horrible sound.

“I’m sorry Suzy but Sarah Palin is a fisherwoman too.”

Sarah Palin – that Mother Gooser!