Big Fish in the Front Yard | Short Story

It was a beautiful spring day at Grandma and Grandad’s house, but in the afternoon the sky over their little farm turned black. The wind and rain, that started just after supper, kept pounding the roof until after bedtime. A bright flash of lightning, followed quickly by a loud boom shook me out of bed. I ran over to the upstairs window. Even in the dark I could see it–the front yard was covered in water, rushing by like an angry river. I flew downstairs to tell Granddad.

He was standing with the front door open, looking out past the porch. “The Morgan’s Pond just down the road overflowed,” he said, matter of factly. “This happens sometimes when we get a good rain. Don’t worry. Most of it will be gone by morning. Go back to bed, son. I’ll keep an eye on it,” he said, patting me on the back.

Granddad was right. When I looked out the window the next morning, there were only a few big puddles, shimmering in the sunlight, with the green grass all flattened in the same direction. Wait, something was swimming in one of them! I could clearly see part of a fin sticking out of the shallows, with the water churning behind it. “There’s a fish in the front yard!” I yelled to my brother. “A BIG one!” We both rushed to take a closer look, flapping Granddad’s newspaper as we ran past his favorite chair.

The huge alien was still swimming in frantic half-submerged circles. “We should eat it for lunch,” my older brother suggested. “It’s a big mouth bass from the Morgan’s pond,” Granddad offered, walking up. “We need to save him!” I retorted, sounding as frenzied as the fish. Granddad ambled off without saying anything, which usually meant he had a plan.

Sure enough, he came back in a few minutes wearing his rubber boots, holding a fisherman’s net in one hand and dragging a big plastic tub with the other. It’s a good thing Grandma had gone into town to sell eggs, because she wouldn’t like what we were about to do with her laundry basket.

Granddad dipped the tub down into a puddle, filling it with a swimmable amount of water. “Lads, I’m about to wrangle a fish,” he winked. Wading in, he started chasing the beast, churning up plenty of white water himself. After a few tries, Granddad scooped up the fish and held it up triumphantly. “This is the biggest largemouth bass I’ve ever seen!” he exclaimed, finally sounding as excited as my brother and me. “We’ll put it back in Morgan’s pond,” he offered, “but only after the weigh in.” I was scratching my head now, “What’s a weigh in?” “Come along and see, boys. Help me get this tub into the back of the pick-up.” So, we loaded up the trophy fish and headed toward town.

“Simpson’s general store has a produce scale; that ought to give us a good idea,” Granddad said. “But your grandmother is also in town, and we’ll need to be quiet about it.” Inside the store, nobody questioned what was wrapped up in the old throw blanket. Come to think of it, that was Grandma’s too. I was sure hoping we didn’t get found out. “Eight pounds six ounces! yelled Granddad. “This girl weighs as much as a newborn baby!” “How do you know it’s a girl?” I questioned. “Look at that bulging belly,” he said, holding up the unwrapped fish for all to see. “She’s full of eggs.” Mr. Simpson offered to take a photo of us, but we begged off–and for good reason.

Back in the pick-up with the fish in her tub, we drove out of town, right past Grandma. Gulp! She was sitting at a table on main street with her friend Mrs. Maureen, selling eggs by the dozen. Grandma gave us a puzzled look, as Granddad stopped and rolled down the window. “We ran out of Tabasco sauce,” he explained, sheepishly. Whew, that was a close one!

We made it to Morgan’s pond with no more trouble. My brother and I unloaded the big tub with the huge fish and followed Granddad to the water. “This looks like a good spot to let her go,” he said with a grin. “Pour her back where she came from, lads.” The water was murky, but I saw her swim away. She turned back, after a few feet, and gave the three of us the side eye. “You’re welcome, girl,” I replied. “A fish deserves a fighting chance. Somebody will have to catch you with a rod and reel, like you’re supposed to.”

“Boys, it’s the same with people,” offered Granddad. “Don’t ever take advantage of someone when they’re down. Give them a sporting chance.” There was always a lesson with our Granddad, and we had lots of fun with him, too. This time we raced home to clean out the laundry tub and wash the blanket–before Grandma came back. And would you believe, Granddad had an extra bottle of Tabasco hidden in his dresser drawer?  It was still in the box.

Thank you for reading. 🙏❤️ prayers and love. For biblical parallels to this story, please see the book of Luke, chapter 15.

Note: while based on actual events, this short story is fictional.

©️2025, by David Duncan. All Rights Reserved. 

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