All The Gods, All The Monsters

We get up early on the day,
This is the only day of the year that we get up early;
‘Cos this is our favourite day fer fishin’.

The things you need to take when fishin’:
A hook,
The bait,
A line…
A shotgun, a rifle… Or maybe a pistol.
A fine hamper, packed by mom,
And a bottle of ginger beer fer each of us.

This ain’t like any other day’s fishin’,
Which is howcum it’s so easy to get my lil brother out of his pit;
This is November first
And every year,
November first
Is the best day…
Fer fishin’, that is.

The best places to fish…
Now that is different dependin’
On what you want to catch.

Normal fishin’,
You go where the fish go
To feed
And you give ‘em bait that suits the prey
You want to catch.

What we want to catch,
Is most easy to get
On November first;
Dog-tired and dopey
From their frolickin’ the night before.

So all the boys
And all their daddys
Go on down
To the places where
The fishin’ is best…

We go down to the cornfields.
We go down to the dew-misted graveyards.
We go down to the abandoned warehouses.
We go down to the old forbidden woods.

Me and Jimmy, we got the best hook
And wrapped around it, the best bait…
One of Jimmy’s old tattered shirts,
Swelled out with dirty old newspaper
And a pair of his old short pants
(For some reason
We’ve found it is easier to get a good catch
With a small boy for bait)

We go down to where the long corn grows
And all the sleepers lie down in the rows…

We got a long old branch that daddy done stripped down
And we use old washing line,
‘Cos it flickers clear in the sunlight
And it is strong as all hell…

(For night fishin’, it is best to load up with silver
But this is mornin’
And it’ll be light
And ‘sides, what we’re after don’t got fur.)

November first is when all them beasties and critters
Are blood-happy and swollen up from the night before,
Their Samhuin, their Hop-Tu-Naa,
Their Pooky night…

And here in the land of the free,
Is the best place in the world,
For this kinda fishin’
‘Cos we got all the gods
And we got all the monsters…

The night before,
Momma watched the mirror,
Makin’ sure to keep an eye
For a clue to our catch
Or any mishaps we might need
To watch out for.

And we locked ourselves in downstairs
Keeping all the doors firm shut
And all the curtains tight drawn.

Takin’ care not to look out on the street.
Takin’ care not to listen to the distant screams and sirens,
As the creatures play their knock-door-run…

We’ll know soon enough who got pranked
When we see who makes it into school
Come next week.

But now we out in the outdoors again,
And it is the best damn day for fishin’;
Bitter sweet;
Me, I’m out ta catch me a zombi,
Lil brother got his heart set on a cat-walker

(Though the size he is, a neep-gobbler is more his speed
But I don’t like to say,
‘Cos even small men need their pride).

Daddy got his heart set on Stingy Jack.

(Daddy got his heart set on Stingy Jack every year;
So far, no luck)

Some of us catch ‘em to throw ‘em back…
Others take it all too serious,
Turn up hours early,
And stock their freezers an’ pantries for the winter months
With vampire heart and werewolf meat…

Daddy always waits to see
If we catch us somethin’ tasty…

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Nicolas Papaconstantinou
Nicolas Papaconstantinou is an enthusiastic amateur creative type, and the chap behind Elephant Words. Be nice to him. He growed up kinda wrong.

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