The Uni-Blogger Strikes Again!

Posted: October 12, 2010 in Recent Reports

Wait a minute..... this isn't my bazooka?!


Deep in the heart of Salmon country, methodically perpetrating acts of unjustifiable inhumanity, the “Uni-Blogger” has once again brought down a reign of terror this cold October eve. With his weapons of fish extraction close at hand, he stalks his victims with a cold heart, and a warm smile. Nothing deters this menace to the aquatic community. He is a man on a mission, a force to be reckoned with, and he will not lay his swords to the earth until vengeance is brought forth. The body count from this apocalyptic massacre should have been much higher than facts would indicate. Uncharacteristically, luck came in the form of bent hooks and broken leaders for a few wily fish. Unfortunately for the others, their luck had run out.

“The night air was filled with tremendous angst and trepidation,” proclaimed one onlooker, “it seemed to permeate through the very fabric of time itself.” As if stuck in a nightmare, the fish were unable to escape the cold, the killing, nor the clutches of this madman. One eye witness account tells a story of mystery, intrigue, violence, and pseudo-psychotic sexually deviant behavior. The following is an excerpt from his statement:

Peek-a-boo - I see you...



“Well the evening started innocent enough, I mean it was a long drive up in the dark from our homes in Illinois. The strangest storm blew in from out of nowhere and we pretty much drove through sporadic rain storms the whole way up into Wisconsin. Very odd weather considering the forecast mentioned nothing about precipitation.”

“Once we broke free from the storm, the skies opened up and we marveled at the deep black sky full of stars and a dim crescent moon. At one point we even experienced a phenomena the likes of which I had never seen. Almost as if by fate we were both admiring the sky when a florescent green streak broke out across the horizon as a burning meteor fell to earth. It was here and gone in a flash, but it left a lasting impression, like it was a sign.”

“Was I scared being out all alone on unfamiliar turf at such an hour with the Uni-Blogger? Well maybe I was but didn’t know it, I mean there really wasn’t….. well maybe…. Oh yea, you know now that I think about it, he did try to drown me as soon as we got there and launched the boat. I mean we all forget things, but I think it’s no coincidence that he left the plug out of the boat and insisted I be in the boat when he backed it down. Never had that happen before, but my instincts got me out of that situation.”

“It was damn cold that night, howling winds, temps in the 30s, and a varying mist seemingly following us around the harbor all night. In fact it took us good couple hours before we made contact with the first salmon. He was casting a white deep diving jerkbait while I was working a similar lure in a different pattern. There were many long periods of silence, and those periods were only separated by odd conversations of “hypothetical” sexual innuendo and disturbing sensory images. I listened and responded, but I couldn’t shake the fear and disgust inside of me that nearly brought me to tears and wretching at the same time.”

One Fish, Two Fish, Bronze Fish


“Anyway, when he hooked that first fish, all I heard was a deep guttural moan from the back of the boat. Something I would only expect to hear from mating livestock, and since it was so dark that night I could barely make out the silhouette behind me pumping and writhing in some kind of spastic episode. I did hear him mutter, and I quote, “Oh yea, that’s a good one.” That fight only lasted a few seconds, it ended before we got a chance to see the fish as the hooks bent and pulled free near the boat. We were both disappointed at the loss of the fish, but it gave us hope that things were about to get better for us now that we have a lure pattern to start tweaking. He didn’t seem too upset, but the words he mumbled under his breath while he combed through the area again with a freshly re-tied lure were far too disturbing to be reiterated.”

Honestly, the rest of the night was almost a complete blur. The forced sleep deprivation, a lack of fish cooperating with me, and the cold wet conditions I was not fully prepared for really took their toll. At one point we heard gun shots I think, but it took a few minutes for them to register. In fact we really only believed it when the clearly visible nearby harbor drive was lit-up with emergency vehicle lights and traffic. The sounds of the sirens and horns was practically deafening.”

Invisible Ninja Toe


“This threw him into a some kind of a trance because soon after the night was quiet again, his restless behavior came to an abrupt halt. At this point he stopped stone-cold mid retrieve, wrapped himself in all of his clothes exposing only his nose, and whispered something to me I will never forget. “Keep fishing….. keep fishing or I will show you the ninja toe.” It gives me chills up and down my spine just thinking about it. He then laid down, remained completely still, and was silent for what seemed like an eternity.”

“I was almost paralyzed in fear, I mean what the hell was that?! So, I kept fishing and stood watch, keeping my knife and cellphone close at hand. Thankfully, his delusional behavior soon subsided, and he just started fishing again like nothing had happened. In fact, he hooked up with four more fish, all on the same lure. It was almost like some kind of magic trick because he even hooked up on consecutive casts. It was enough to drive me into a jealous panic. I floundered around my tackle and his, looking for a lure to mimic his success. Unfortunately the only lure in that pattern was now attached to his line, and yet another fish.”

The Zombie Lift and Tuck


“As the night wore on, I began to loathe the telltale weight-shift in the boat, the sound of his GoreTex parka rubbing up against itself as he set the hook, and that gut-wrenching moan of another fish on. I was in my own personal hell. Some I had to net, and some fought like Ricky Lake clamoring for a bear claw, eventually throwing hooks or wrapping him up in the dock pilings. The ones he did catch were magnificent creatures, heavy weight bruisers with only the beginnings of their transformation taking hold and shimmering bronze in the chill night air. I can’t even speak of the horrifying torture that these captured fish endured after that sick freak got a hold of them. While hoisting these fish for photos, he would whisper to them. Saying what, I don’t know, but it seemed to give him some kind of ethereal satisfaction. In some of the photos, you can see it on his face. Like the satisfaction of holding the fish was giving him “perverted” pleasure.”

Was it good for you too?



“At daybreak, the mind games came out. I was pummeled with a barrage of “what-if’s” and “If you had to pick” questions concerning only the most reprehensible of subjects. Everything from bowel movements to my thoughts on the existence of human/marsupial hybrids. I was so utterly confused by the time we had to leave that he had me singing a song from my childhood that he warped to soothe his own inner psychopathology: “Beepo, Beepo, Beepo, we made you out of clay, Beepo, Beepo, Beepo, why won’t you come and play.” For lack of a better phrase, I was asleep on my feet. We motored around in the fog and gloom, babbling bits of incoherence, laughing uncontrollably for no reason, I’m not even sure I was still fishing at this point…..”

“So when the time came, we left…… We packed up, loaded the boat onto the trailer (rather clumsily I might add), and we high-tailed it out of there. It was still cold, still windy, and I was so tired I couldn’t even see straight. I did however see something I never thought I would ever see, and in fact I may have been hallucinating. On the way out of the harbor, we drove past a very heavy surf crashing up onto the beach, but within the rolling waves were what appeared to be surfers. Full suits, long boards, and fifty degree water. I’m still not 100% sure of it, but I could have sworn that’s what I saw.”

“The ride home was like a dream, blazing past cars, trucks, lights, the hum of the highway lulling me in and out of consciousness. Some idle conversation, although rather strange and ironic. He insisted I tell my story, from my perspective, true to the best of my ability. He knew it was one of those nights that will haunt me forever. Something I will tell my Grandchildren about, surviving a night with the Uni-Blogger. I kind of already knew I was going to do just that, but to hear it come from his lips caught me off guard. I don’t think he asked that of me because he is looking for recognition or accolades. In fact most of the evening was scary as hell and I will likely need therapy to help me sleep at night. I honestly think he just wants to put that little voice inside your head, you know that one that makes you question what you remember as real or dream. Just enough to question the sanity of those around you, even those you think you may know well. So, that’s what I did….. and that’s my story.”

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Comments
  1. This is a great post!!

    Salmon is done here. Chasing trout this Saturday.

    The Average Joe Fisherman

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