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A fine kettle of fish (tales)

Down here on the Redneck Riviera, we like to have a good ol’ fish fry every winter.

The local fried grouper is pretty good though it’s just not up to a mess of northern walleye.

With that in mind, Norm and I manage to bring along a passel of fillets each winter and get to lord it over the poor souls who don’t live on walleye waters.

With Norm on skillet detail and me relegated to battering, we all sat down to a massive platter full of golden brown ambrosia and exchanged tall tales over the bounty.

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