Our Late Fishing Trip: Two Anglers at the Reservoir, Can’t Escape the “Blank Day” Curse

Let me tell you about the time my buddy and I tried to be heroes for his parents—only to get schooled by a bunch of floating fish. Spoiler: We left with zero catches, a ton of laughs, and a new rule: never trust “perfect” fishing weather (or your friend’s bait-mixing skills).

The Last-Minute Mission: “We Need Fish for Dinner!”

It was a random weekday evening, right after I’d finished my leftover noodles. My phone blew up—Xiaozhi (let’s call him “Z” for short) was panicking. “My parents just texted! They want fresh fish for dinner, and they said YOU have to come. Your ‘specialty’—remember?”

I almost choked on my water. Fresh fish? For dinner? And they were trusting *us*? Normally, Z’s parents would just order takeout, but this was a “family request.” I grabbed my tackle box (okay, a beat-up bucket with hooks and a rod) and yelled, “I’m on my way!”

The Reservoir We Thought We Knew

We’d fished this reservoir a dozen times before—it’s a pay-by-the-pound spot, no fancy feed (just corn and distillers’ grains), so the fish are supposed to be hungry. The drive was 20 minutes of Z rambling: “If we mess this up, my mom’s gonna make me eat broccoli for a week.”

When we pulled up, my gut dropped. The water level was *way* down—like, the spots we usually fished were now mud flats. “Oh no,” I said. “This is bad. Fish love structure, and all the old spots are gone.”

Setting Up (and the First Disaster: No Bait!)

Z picked a gentle slope (he’s lazy, likes easy casting). I went for the dam—deeper water, maybe some leftover structure. Then I froze: I’d grabbed my old dry bait mix (the kind I use for prepping spots, not actual fishing)… but forgot *fresh* bait. Z had his own, but when I asked to share, he smirked: “Nope. You forgot? Go buy some. I’m not wasting my good stuff on your ‘I forgot’ moment.”

Me, being stubborn (and broke), dug through my bucket. Found a crumpled bag of dried red worm pellets—leftover from last month. I dumped them in a water bottle, shook it, and prayed. “This’ll work,” I said. Z rolled his eyes. “Sure, buddy. Let’s see.”

Our First Hour: Floats Like Statues

I tossed two small handfuls of pellets (no fancy “bombs” like Z did—he dumped half his bag). Then I cast, waited 2 minutes, twitched the rod (to “tease” the fish), and reeled. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

30 minutes: nothing. 1 hour: still nothing. The sun was beating down, but there was a tiny breeze—perfect fishing weather, right? Wrong. I glanced at Z: his float was also dead. “Same here?” I yelled. He groaned: “Yep. My arm hurts from casting.”

The New Guys, the Goats, and Our Dumbest Idea Yet

Four other anglers showed up, set up next to me, and dumped *tons* of bait. I asked, “Any luck so far?” They shook their heads: “Water’s too warm. Fish are probably floating.”

Z called me over. He was staring at a herd of black goats grazing by the dam. “Hey,” he said, grinning. “Your parents want fish? What if we… catch a goat?” I laughed so hard I snort-laughed. “Are you serious? My mom would disown me. But hey—if *you* try, I’ll film it.” Z just sighed: “My parents would eat it. They love goat meat.”

Z’s Desperate Bait Switch (Spoiler: Still Nothing)

Z swapped his bait 3 times: smelly carp bait, sweet corn, even the distillers’ grains the reservoir uses. His float didn’t move. He picked up his big net (for catching big fish) and stared at it. “This thing’s been sitting here for 3 hours. It’s gonna melt.” I laughed: “At least you brought it. I forgot my net too.”

Then I walked to the high bank to check the water. *Oh.* The surface was black—*full* of fish, floating near the top. “Z!” I yelled. “Look! They’re all up here! They’re not gonna eat anything on the bottom!” Z ran over, squinted, and groaned: “Are you kidding me? We’ve been casting to the bottom this whole time?”

The “Market Backup Plan” (and Z’s One-Word Response)

Z was panicking. “My parents’ water is boiling! They’re waiting for fish!” I grinned: “Relax. We can go to the market. Buy one of each—carp, crucian, maybe a tiny catfish. Tell them we caught ‘em all. They’ll never know.” Z’s response? “Roll.” Then we both laughed—he knew I was right, but he’s too stubborn to admit it.

While he called his parents (he sounded like a puppy begging for treats: “Mom, the water’s too hot! Everyone’s blank! We tried so hard!”), I took a walk. Found a bunch of old lead weights and line stops—free tackle! Z saw me and rolled his eyes: “You’re gonna be a millionaire from trash, huh?”

Packing Up (and the “Wait, Maybe 30 More Minutes?” Curse)

As the sun set, the wind picked up—cool, perfect. I looked at the water: “Hey, Z. Fish are gonna go down soon. If we stay 30 more minutes, we might catch something.” Z scoffed: “Oh right! Every time we blank, you say ‘30 more minutes.’ Remember the lake trip? The river? The pond? You’re just making excuses.”

My stomach growled *loud*. Z laughed: “Yeah, you’re hungry. Let’s go. My mom’s making dumplings anyway—she probably forgot about the fish.” I grabbed my bucket, Z grabbed his rod, and we headed to the car. On the way, I glanced back: a tiny splash. “See? That’s a fish! We should’ve stayed!” Z yelled: “Shut up and drive!”

Lessons We Learned (the Hard Way)

We didn’t get any fish, but we left with a ton of stuff to laugh about. Here’s what we figured out:

• Water levels matter—always check before you go.
• Fish float when it’s hot—don’t cast to the bottom all day.
• Never trust your friend to share bait (or admit they’re wrong).
• Free tackle from the ground is still better than no tackle.

When we got to Z’s house, his mom had dumplings and soup ready. “Where’s the fish?” she asked. Z grinned: “They were too smart. But we tried! And we brought you stories!” She laughed and handed us bowls. “Next time, just tell me you’re going fishing. I’ll make dumplings either way.”

So that’s our story. Sometimes the best fishing trips aren’t about the catch—they’re about the dumb jokes, the stubborn friends, and the dumplings waiting at home. Would we go back? Hell yes. Next time, we’re bringing *extra* bait, checking the water level, and maybe a net for goats. Just in case.