The Boy Who Had Fish

He stared just over the top of his new Mac book. His eyes cast a gaze over the unopened box of the brand new IPhone that came via USPS yesterday. All of his attention, every ounce of desire and determination in him was fixed entirely on the the largemouth bass resting on the bureau. For years he had horded dozens, sometimes hundreds, of fish throughout his house. His new young bride found the first two crappie under a towel in the corner of the closet. A plump bluegill in the false bottom of a desk drawer a few weeks later provided alarm. Now it was becoming clear, soon everyone would know, Luke Lucas has fish.
Luke married well, had a good job, and enough electronics so keep any computer geek happy for years, but he couldn't help but have every fish he saw. He knew that a few of his friends had found out about his obsession. In fact, Luke had stolen his first few fish from Bo Henderson, a trusted friend and band mate. The inevitability of his unveiling made it feel like ants were under his skin. His stomach turned like two cobia in mating ritual when he passed the seafood aisle in Publix.
And now, in the jaws of largemouth bass lying on his bureau, a letter detailing his concealed cardinal sin. A letter addressed to the conference, the newspaper, and the Steve Jobs.

TO BE CONTINUED... (maybe)