Big Catfish Story
August 30, 2021 – Little Rock, Arkansas, USA
Brynn McIntyre did not want her office to look like a lawyer’s office. She hung her law diplomas on the wall, but instead of a stately, dark wood desk, she chose a glass worktable. Her chairs were modern, with mesh backs and seats. The pale walls matched the brushed metal cabinets. Her main decorative wall held framed black and white prints. It felt like a space for a magazine editor rather than the interior for a Southern law firm.
Seated on the other side of Brynn’s worktable sat Milford Givings. After thirty minutes of discussing his estate plans, he was still getting used to his chair. He sat hunched over, as if he was only used to sitting on tree stumps around a fire. His long beard covered his chest like a bib and what looked like the mouthpiece for a corncob pipe stuck out from the front pocket of his oversized suit.
“This is all very straightforward,” Brynn tried to explain to Milford. “We plan for the transfer of land titles all the time.”
“But this here plot of land is special,” said Milford in a voice that sounded like a whiney fiddle. “My daddy gave it to me and I want to pass it on to my son without a bunch of government taxes.”
“Yes, I understand. Everyone wants the same thing,”
“And not only the land. The tractors. And the barn. And the pond.”
Brynn’s firm charged a flat rate for estate planning. If she was billing by the hour, she might have acted more interested as Milford described the type of tractors he owned and which one did a better job plowing in the mud. If her fee meter was running, Brynn might have encouraged Milford to describe in greater detail how he managed to fire his shotgun out the open window of his kitchen. But obligated to a set fee, she did not even pretend to be interested. That is until Milford described the fish he pulled from his pond.
“As long as my arm,” cried Milford, holding out his arm to illustrate.
“I’ve heard that same story from every fisherman I’ve ever met,” replied Brynn. “You sure they aren’t more like the size of your hand?”
“No! My arm, I swear! ‘Course that ain’t nothin’ compared to the catfish my friend pulls out of the Mississippi. They’re as big as Volkswagens. They’ll swallow a man whole.”
Brynn smiled and held back a laugh. “As big as Volkswagens, huh? You’ve seen them?”
“Lots of times.”
The fish talk caused Brynn to look over at her wall of black and white prints. Her two partners in the law firm decorated their walls with trophy fish caught on weekend excursions. They continued to outdo each other, replacing every bass with bigger and bigger specimens. Brynn was never invited fishing and rarely overhead their fishing bull sessions. They considered it a guy thing. They never came out and said it, but Brynn knew they did not consider her tough enough to handle something as messy as fishing. The attitude spilled over into case assignments. Brynn got stuck with the safe stuff, like estate planning.
“Have you ever seen one of those big Mississippi catfish stuffed and mounted on a wall?” Brynn asked Milford.
“Oh sure. Takes up a lot of room though.”
Brynn gestured toward the wall with her prints. “How do you think a fish would look up there?” she asked with a chuckle.
Milford stared carefully. “Kind of funny, I guess. Not what I’d expect for a lady lawyer.”
“It would be funny, wouldn’t it? The lawyers across the hall would sure be surprised if I hung up something twice the size of their fish.”
Milford let out a long, high-pitched giggle. “Surely would be funny.”
When Brynn asked for the address and phone number of the friend with the big catfish, Milford was happy to help.
“And you think they would sell me a big fish?”
“Surely would. They’d be proud to sell you one.”
When Milford provided his friend’s address, it was actually a list of roads to follow. The first step was driving to Memphis. That afternoon, Brynn thought hard about whether a catfish trophy was worth the long drive and the trouble. It would definitely look out of place in her office, but she kept chuckling to herself about the idea. Seeing the look on her partners’ faces was definitely worth the hassle. She made the call to Milford’s friend in Tennessee.
“You’re telling me you’re Milford’s lawyer?” asked the voice on the other end of the line after Brynn introduced herself.
“In a way. He told me you might have a big fish I can buy. I want it for my wall.”
“I got ‘em in all sizes.”
“I want the biggest one you’ve got.”
“Well, if you think you can handle it, you can have it if you get here by this weekend.”
Brynn ended the call while picturing the big fish hanging in her office. Milford and his friend were obviously exaggerating about it being the size of a Volkswagen, but it had to be bigger than anything her law partners had caught. Brynn’s next call was to a taxidermist who assured her that he could stuff and mount any size fish. Brynn promised to deliver one to him on Saturday. Then she realized she did not want the fish smelling up her car and so she called a rental agency to reserve a pickup truck.
Brynn kept the fish plan to herself all week. But on her way out of the office on Friday, she could not help agitating her partners. “Did I mention I’m going fishing tomorrow?” she called between their offices.
“Where? Who with?” demanded partner number one.
“A new friend I made. I have a feeling I’ll be coming back with something bigger than what you’re hanging up.”
“Ha ha. That’ll be the day,” said partner number two.
During the two-hour drive to Memphis the next morning, Brynn had second thoughts every five minutes. Was it worth the trouble? Would she end up looking silly? She continued to convince herself that the fish was a good investment. It would be a great way to test a client’s sense of humor. It would be so out of place in her office that she would instantly know something about a stranger by how they reacted to it.
Brynn crossed the West Memphis bridge and turned north off the interstate. With each new turn, the roads grew narrower. She ended up bouncing down a muddy lane parallel to the Mississippi. At the end of the lane sat two mobile homes, a junkyard’s worth of car parts, and a metal building the size of a barn. Three eager dogs with wagging tails raced to greet Brynn. She stayed in the truck as they barked.
There was no sign advertising any sort of business. Brynn wondered if she should honk her horn or yell out her window. She was still deciding when a man in overalls popped out of a trailer and sauntered toward her.
“You Brynn?”
“Yes. I’m here about the fish.”
“Well, follow me. Don’t mind the dogs none. They’re friendly.”
Brynn eased out of the truck and followed the man toward the metal barn. He spat tobacco on the ground as he introduced himself as Sonny.
“Any trouble finding the place?”
“No, not really. Milford gave me good directions.”
Sonny slid open a squeaky metal door. The building was dark inside except for beams of sunlight sneaking through cracks in the walls and roof. It smelled like the river, but more intense. Sonny and the dogs walked inside like they were heading for a carnival peepshow. Brynn looked backward, clutched her phone, and followed.
As her eyes adjusted, Brynn realized a good portion of the floor was covered in metal watering troughs. Most were round, two feet high and six feet across. An even larger trough sat close to a second sliding door. Sonny walked straight to the massive trough, flipped on a flashlight and motioned Brynn over.
Brynn leaned over the side, her eyes following the flashlight beam into murky water. At the bottom of the makeshift tank lay the biggest fish she had ever seen. Its body stretched across the trough’s entire diameter. It had to weigh four or five hundred pounds. It was like looking at an elephant stuffed inside a U-Haul truck. Brynn gasped.
“Big enough for ya?” Sonny asked with a laugh.
“I had no idea. I don’t know what to say.”
“You told me you wanted the biggest one I got.”
Brynn stared at the giant fish’s motionless head. Pale whiskers like cornstalks clung to its mouth. Black pearl eyes stared back at Brynn. She saw in them raging sadness.
“How old is it?” she quietly asked Sonny.
“Fifty years at least. Maybe a hundred.”
“It’s been in the river that long? I . . . I had no idea. It’s not what I expected.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Something I could hang on my wall. It was supposed to be kind of a joke. But this is way beyond a wall fish. This should be in the river. It’s way more than I was looking for.”
“Well, you said you wanted my biggest fish. I held it for you. I could have sold it to somebody else. As far as I’m concerned, you already bought it.”
“But I didn’t realize what you were selling me. It’s still alive. I could never take it.”
“Doesn’t have much fight left in him. He won’t last long once we drain out the water.”
Brynn gasped. “How did you get him in there in the first place?”
“That’s my secret.”
“Well, I don’t want anything to do with it. If you feel right about keeping him in there, that’s your business.”
“No, no. Now this is your fish. You need to pay me for him. Five hundred dollars.”
“Ha. You’re not serious.” Brynn turned toward the open door and realized she was surrounded by a large family of people. They had snuck inside while she was focused on the fish.
“That’s a trophy fish if I ever saw one. It’s worth at least $500,” said Sonny.
“I’m sure it is, but I’m not looking for a fish anymore. I need to get some fresh air.”
Brynn pushed past a woman holding a baby on her hip and stumbled toward the light of the open door. Everyone inside the building followed her. When she reached sunlight and exhaled, she looked up to notice a truck was parked behind her rented pickup. Her escape route was blocked.
“I’m sorry, but I think it would be best if I simply left now,” Brynn sputtered.
Sonny’s friendly smile was gone. “You can’t leave without paying me for that fish. I showed it to you and welcomed you to my home. You’ve got to show me the same hospitality or maybe we’re keeping your truck.”
Brynn was still clutching her phone. Her first thought was to wonder if she could call 911 before Sonny or one of his family members grabbed her phone. Then her lawyer instincts took over and she thought about any obligations she had. Did her phone call count as a verbal contract?
“Shall we load it in the back of your truck and you give us the money?” called Sonny.
Brynn thought again about the suffering fish stuffed into the tank. She had looked into its pleading eyes, wise eyes which had survived for decades. A jolt of shame and sympathy shot through her body. She could not be responsible for letting it die.
“I think you should put it back. Let it go.”
“I’m not putting it back,” replied Sonny with a laugh.
“What if I bought it?”
“Like I said, you already bought it.”
“If I gave you the money for it, would you put it back?”
Sonny grinned slyly. “Well, sure I would.”
Brynn’s lawyer instincts kicked in again. “I’d want to see it. You put it back while I watch.”
The grin disappeared from Sonny’s face as Brynn switched into negotiation mode. She wanted to witness the fish put back in the river and she would only give Sonny a check. No cash. He eventually agreed to the terms.
Brynn did not watch as Sonny and two teenage boys used a frontend loader to lift the monster catfish into a canvas sling and pull it from the metal trough. As the tractor drove the fish toward the river, Brynn jogged behind. A crowd of younger children followed, too, as if they were chasing a parade float.
The riverbank’s thick mud stopped Brynn from reaching the water, but she had a good view as the canvas sling dipped into the Mississippi. The fish’s head was submerged and at first it simply laid motionless. Brynn feared she had been too late and then the slick, enormous body began to thrash. With a couple of flops, the fish disappeared in the dark water. The children around Brynn laughed and cheered. She cheered too.
As Brynn handed Sonny her check, he laughed and said, “Come back any time you want to let a big fish go. I’ll probably have that same one caught before next weekend.”
Brynn frowned but stayed quiet. She had to hope the big fish was too smart to stay anywhere near Sonny’s homestead.
Brynn remained tense until she was back on a paved road surrounded by other cars. As her heart rate returned to normal, she wished she had taken a picture of her $500 fish before it swam away. What was she going to tell her partners? She had made a big deal about returning home with a wall trophy to put theirs to shame. If she showed up empty-handed, she would never hear the end of it.
On her way into Little Rock, Brynn stopped in at a large Bass Pro Shops outlet. She walked past all the fishing gear and found a Billy Bass novelty fish attached to a wood plaque. When you pressed a button, the plastic fish sang Take Me to The River.
Brynn decided everything turned out for the best. Everyone would get a laugh from Billy Bass and she would not have to worry about possible fishing invitations from her partners. One big fish story would last her a lifetime.
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