W. Bruce Cameron - Old Fishermen Never Die — They Just Smell That Way

As part of my “Keep Fit!” exercise regimen, I start every day off with a brisk, active walk to the doughnut shop. Well, OK, most mornings I drive.

Right near the doughnut shop is a bridge where three fishermen sit in folding chairs and smell as if they’re rotting in the sun. Their lines dangle over the railing to the water below, much to the amusement of the local fish, who swim past the bait with loud guffaws. I smile and wave at the fishermen, but I’ve learned not to offer any doughnuts because they always take them.

Of the three of them, the oldest, Mel, is the one who most resembles a corp...