conifers. The green clearing was lit with bright sunrays that created splashes of light reflecting from diamond dewdrop placer. All this, along with the view of the far bank, created a truly enchanting picture of nature.
A sandy slightly downgrade shore was not yet touched by a gross imprint of a boot, and that unspeakably gladdened inveterate fishermen of our big company keen to some local fauna. Content with appearance of the place, everyone started to make up for lost time. “Experienced fishermen” headed by Sensei seized their fishing implements and went straight to the river to set everything up, with such passion at that, as if they had merely ten seconds to fulfill their fisherman’s dream. The others started to pitch a campsite.
After common preliminaries were concluded, and the folks fortified themselves with a light breakfast, most of the company dispersed alongshore – some with a spinning reel, some with a fishing rod. With their fishing “arsenal”, almost everyone decorously seated themselves at a respectful distance from each another in secret hope of a felicitous catch just at their chosen spot.
The riverside in the wilderness was swiftly filled with paraphernalia of civilization. Should a New Guinea’s Papuan happen to be here, he would examine all these queer articles for a long time. And if someone explained the purpose of each article to him, including various super cool fishing accessories, the Papuan would laugh for a day or two at the fact that some smart merchant had been able to fool so many people. An entire tribe, what do you know! But there was no Papuan around, and the fooled people believed firmly that the purchased stuff would help them lure the cunning fish out of the river.
Eugene alone stayed in the “camp” and it was just because his fishing net got tangled. The lad belonged to that extreme category of “fishermen” who cannot bear to sit with a fishing rod for hours. He liked the fish to be caught at once and in loads. Eugene could also chase after fish one-on-one when submarine hunting. At least, there was a peculiar sporting blood in it – who wears out whom. But to sit idly contemplating the water from the riverside was not his trip. That’s why Eugene always took his “tangle” net for fishing. It was as easy to fish with it as it can be: setting nets, driving fish into them, and there you go – now you can cook fish soup! That’s all there is to a “wet work”. That’s why Eugene was not being deceitful when he promised a grandiose catch as he pinned his hopes on this safe bet option. However, an unexpected misfortune occurred. He did not check the net at home and he also did not exert himself with conscientious packing at his last fishing. That’s why he got such a stable result. The “tangling net” fully justified its name this time matting sinkers and floats badly. No matter how hard the lad tried his efforts got nowhere.
But Eugene wouldn’t have been Eugene if he had given way to despair or showed that things weren’t going his way. At any rate, he could not allow it to happen in front of girls. So, he explained his prolonged stay at the camp during the most appropriate time for morning fishing by “purely gentlemen’s motives” – telling punning stories to girls so as to render “invaluable assistance” in women’s toils of washing dirty dishes after a raid of such a “starving bunch”. In brief, Eugene did not waste time even here.
Sitting in a folding chair, he “sympathized” the girls in good faith:“...that’s in our technological age when cosmic saucers furrow the celestial space, when humanity has automated manufacturing by ninety percent, these fragile, tender fingers are to perform infinite number of movements over that dirty, modernized human trough of abdominal satiety, this monstrous implement that favors lust of flesh, its stomach and pride...”
At this time, there appeared an SUV on the provisional forest “road” that the cars of this company struggled through. The SUV stopped at the glade passage. A lean man got out of the car. His hair was light and thin, his small beard was reddish, and his face was somewhat pale. Camouflage fishing smock was rather big and looked as though it was off somebody’s back.
Eugene discontinued his ardent speech addressed to “working-people” and turned his eyes towards an intruder with curiosity. Noticing fixed attention directed at him, the SUV driver thrust his hand into his trousers’ pocket. Then, playing with a car key with the other hand he waddled towards Sensei’s “Moscvich,” the rear of which slightly stuck out at the “driving lane.”
“Well, whose jade sprawled here halfway?” the stranger said deliberately vociferously and kicked the car wheel couple times.
Eugene sprang up from his seat right away and nearly choked with his saliva – that much he wanted to pant out to the uninvited guest’s face.
“Yo, man, what this leg-throwing is all about?!”
“So, it’s your rattletrap then?” he asked with a jeer.
“Mine or not, what’s the diff it’s got to do with you?”
Eugene walked up to Sensei’s car hastily. He took out a not-too-clean handkerchief and made as though he wiped last specks of dust from it. After demonstrating such an evident love of domestic cars, Eugene assumed the threatening attitude of a fervent owner.
“Now then, what’s the matter exactly?”
“What’s the matter?!” the car driver voiced indignantly. “Left this junk in the middle of the road and there he asks what’s the matter! Decent cars can’t go through.”
“Do you call this tractor a decent car?!” a flame of patriotic sentiments flared up in Eugene in a flash. “One would only race rhinos in Africa in it, not break wind along decent Slavic passages. Besides, there’s plenty of space here. No harm will be done to your tractor, if you shift its tracks a bit towards the bushes.”
“Yeah, right! And who will paint and glaze my car afterwards, you?”
“Well, why not paint it, if there is such a need? I might as well cover it with drawings so that you wouldn't wish for more. Its own jap mother won’t recognize it! Just give me a minute, I’ll get some tools...”
And Eugene swan about towards the tents, as if intending to keep his word momentarily. After making several steps, he came to a standstill and, pulling a not very bright face, he turned back and thoughtfully remarked: “I say, man, it just flashed across my straight gyrus... What on earth would you need this passage for? There’s only a steep ahead. This place is occupied. There’s a lot of us here too! Won’t you find other places for yourself? The river is big enough.”
“What for?! I’ve been feeding the fish here for an entire week. Served them different dishes like in a restaurant. And here you all are on a lured spot...”
“But, I kinda got them food too!” making barefaced single-minded countenance, Eugene exclaimed happily. “One could say gave up the last piece of bread, all for them scaled-fish! Oh, my,” he drawled, “we might have fed them up through and through! I should not wonder if it lies at the bottom of the river like a pig after dinner, lazy to lift its tail upwards. And I rack my brains why it doesn’t bite. The poor things just got distended...”
The girls listening to this conversation laughed gently.
“Listen man! Maybe, we just ‘dynamite’ this impudent fish?”
“Do what?!”
“I’m saying, did you happen to take along some dynamite?” Eugene asked expressly loudly with clear interest.
The driver beamed a gap-toothed smile failing to keep a dead-pan before such an ardent speech of the odd fellow.
“Don’t fret, I’ll get it out without that all right.”
Eugene glanced at that ‘dentist’s gladness’
