There wasn’t much Old Nick was fond of except one thing – fishing. He could fish anywhere and any time: be it a faraway deserted pond in the early hours of the morning or a short babbling brook at lunch time. His fishing rod, a can full of night crawlers, a butterfly net, a harpoon and a pair of binoculars to look out for sharks – was all he needed.
I bet he could even fish in his own bathtub if he wanted to. Nick was simply nuts about fishing.
One beautiful morning while his boss was out Nick realized that he had no right to miss such a chance. Quickly he took his three big bags of fishing gear and bolted. Everybody, pretending not to notice it, went on with their work.
Nick hopped into his Chevy Pick-up and half an hour later was at his secret fishing hole. He stretched out on the grass like a purring self-satisfied cat and threw the float into the still water.
Suddenly he heard strange voices. Two big thugs were carrying his boss with a gag in his mouth. Mr Cash, his boss, looked very desperate and somewhat frightened. In a flash Old Nick got the picture: his boss had been kidnapped.
The question now was, should he keep on fishing or help Mr Kash? After weighing the pros and cons, he came to the conclusion that without a boss, there is no job; without a job, there is no money; without money, there is no fishing gear. It was obvious. The only thing to do was to rescue his boss. If only he could find a phone, the rest would be a piece of cake.
So Nick made his way to the nearest telephone booth and called the police. By dusk Mr Kash had been released safe and sound. Officially he let Old Nick go fishing once a week. But soon Old Nick started using sticks of dynamite and after the Environmental Protection Agency had fined his boss for the third time (1500 $), Mr Kash fired his saviour.