Dale Murphy:
[notices dynamite]
Who you blowin' up, old-timer?
Old Timer:
Oh, just the trout. Only way to bring 'em to the surface. Dynamite stuns 'em. Then they float like lily pads, and I just scoop 'em up.
Dale Murphy:
[notices picture of the man and his wife]
Pretty wife.
Old Timer:
Yeah, that's my Delilah. Gave me the happiest days of my life. God bless her soul. You know, you one lucky son of a bitch. Lotta folk go in them woods. Never seen one come out. I stay clear of them myself.
Dale Murphy:
How many of those freaks are out there?
Old Timer:
Hard to know. More than the ones you run across. That's for sure.
Dale Murphy:
What are they?
Old Timer:
Oh, just like you and me, brother, 'cept uglier... and a lot stronger. Hey, I hit one of them young'uns once in my pickup. He popped up and just kept goin'. It's the chemicals changed 'em. Pulp mill shut down near 30 years ago... and left a mess. And the poison killed off all the game. Most folks 'round these parts left. There's one family that stayed on in this holler... and pretty soon their babies started gushin' out of their mama's womb... just as ugly as them trout I got hangin' out there. And then they grow up, have kids of their own. Turned out even worse. You gonna stay for a bite? Fish is ugly, but they fry up real good.
Dale Murphy:
No. Much obliged, but I gotta get goin'.
Old Timer:
Well, if you're gonna head out to get your friends, settle the score... best jump to it before it gets dark. You don't wanna be out in them woods at night.
Dale Murphy:
Why do you stay, old-timer?
Old Timer:
Well, I could never leave. Gotta stay close to my young'uns.
