The Fishing Hole

Pete walked to the pond. He had a fishing pole in one hand and a bag of smooth rocks in the other. As he walked he could see Frank ahead of him waiting and scuffing the dirt with his boot. They went every day to the pond to fish and when the fish weren’t biting to skip rocks.
“Hey Pete, did you go without me yesterday?”
“Yes I did” he said as we walked on.
“Did you catch anything?”
“Yes I did, I caught a dozen fish! They were biting like crazy.” Frank’s face was illuminated with excitement as he talked.
“Wow, wish my mom wouldn’t have made me go with her. I hate being stuck inside and I hate the doctor’s office even more. How big were they?” “They were all sizes. There were big ones, and little ones, and ones in between. You should have seen the one that got away! He was a monster.”
“Wow,” Pete said kicking the dirt on the path as he walked. He was not sure how much of Frank’s story he should believe. Frank sometimes didn’t tell the truth but it seemed that he was too excited to be lying.
The boys were quiet as they approached the pond. They sat on their favorite fishing rock and put worms on their hooks. Then they dropped their lines in the water.
As Pete sat wondering about Frank’s fishing day, he felt a tug on the line. He reeled and tugged and reeled and tugged. When he pulled the fish out of the water he was surprised at its size.
“Look,” exclaimed Frank. “It’s the one that got away!”
Pete smiled the biggest smile ever as he looked over at Frank. With Frank’s help Pete’s fish did not get away this time.