Galveston, Texas

Red drum at sea wolf park

Dawn cracks and the water looks innocent, but I know better. I throw metal into the lake like a threat, not a prayer. The fish don’t get a speech, they get tested. Line tightens, rod bows, and something down there realizes the universe is mean and has hooks. I don’t apologize. I win. This isn’t therapy. This is domination with patience. Cold hands, worse intentions. I drag them up blinking and mad, all teeth and attitude, and remind them who owns the top of the food chain today. No mercy, no poetry—just pressure, leverage, and a grin that says try harder next time. I don’t fish for likes. I fish because the water owes me something and I’m here to collect. Uncle Shep hits holes! Milf Hunter