“I wasn’t drinking and no one — urp! — tried to cover it up.”
(Vice) President Dick Cheney, explaining how he flicked his fly rod and caught his fishing guide, when all the while, in his words, “I was hot on the trail of a trout, and besides, what in the devil was that goddamn Tasmanian — urp! — doing behind me anyway?”
News reports were skimpy at first, since Cheney’s traveling medical team surrounded the (vice) president six deep in all directions, and reporters were unable to penetrate the ring of secret service agents that encircled the medical team.
But word trickled out through an anonymous informant that the Tasmanian fishing guide, hooked in the nose and reeled in with considerable force — then propped against a fence and left to fend for himself — would probably heal, though he’s considering a new occupation.
This did little to mollify Betty Jones of North Hobart, who wrote “Tell him, don’t shoot!” in a letter to the Tasmanian press prior to Cheney's arrival, then realized, too late, she should have written “Don’t cast!”]