I always looked forward with great excitement to fishing trips with my Dad. It gave us some man-to-man time alone from school, chores that it felt like I was constantly doing, and the daily grind Dad had to go through to provide me a good home.

Our baby blue station wagon pulled to a stop in a designated parking slot in Miranda State Park. Dawn was just breaking as the sun peaked over the top of Altoona Mountain. The fishing was always the very best from the 100 foot long, weather-worn pier Dad and I had claimed as our very own on each one of our previous fishing excursions.

We arrived as early in the morning as we possibly could because the fish seemed to bite our bait so much better before the day warmed up to sweltering as Summer days along the Gulf do.

Lately I had noticed Dad was a lot quieter than normal. Even the radio didn't play as loudly as it typically did on our way out of town to the park this morning.

When I asked Dad what the problem was he just smiled reassuringly and told me nothing was the matter. He also told me not to let my imagination run wild with me. And some times I had a doozy of an imagination for a boy my age.

Once Dad parked the car I bolted out of it like greased lightning. I couldn't wait to get down to the pier and get a line in the clear blue water.

"I'm gonna catch one this big!" I proudly boasted extending my arms as far apart as I could get them. Then I snatched my rod and reel in one hand and the bucket of bait in the other.

Uncharacteristically Dad was quiet. I briefly wondered to myself why he was before sprinting down the pier covered with moisture from the morning dew.

Dad did not say a word. Usually he would warn me not to run on the wet wood because he did not want me to slip and fall into the water below it knowing I could not swim.

Once I reached my favorite spot to fish from on the pier I pulled out a wiggly worm and put it on the silver hook at the end of my fishing pole saying, "Okay fishes. I'm coming to get you now!"

Lost in my own little world, without so much as a single care at all, I felt a snug yank on the end of my pole and excitedly exclaimed "I got one!"

It was then I felt a two handed shove from behind that about knocked me off balance. I totally did not expect that at all.

Once again I felt being grabbed and spun around. I started to yell out, "D-d-Dad!" but the hideous monster I saw was not my father.

It couldn't be. My Dad would never handle me in an attacking way. He was always very non-confrontational and had always treated me gently like a ten year old boy should be handled.

Another push and I could feel myself moving backwards towards the edge of the pier. A danger zone my body quickly sensed.

Desperately I called out saying, "Dad, stop! What are you doing?" Another shove moved me even closer to the edge. "Daddy, please stop!"

I looked down and could tell how perilously close I was to disaster, and in desperation, my final words to him before he shoved me off the pier were, "You know I can't swim!"

"Then have the little fishes teach you," was the last thing he said to me.

Up on the pier Dad commented to himself "Problem solved. Now to claim that insurance money".

I couldn't believe my Dad had pushed me off that pier into the deep still water. I couldn't believe my Dad had drowned me to collect insurance money, or that I was worth so much more to him dead than I ever was alive.

But there I floated face down under the water. My whole life gone in an instant and a flash before my eyes. What had I done to deserve my fate? I could not think of anything.

And Dad acted like nothing happened. Almost like I never even existed. He pulled out his cellphone and made two calls.

The first one was to 9-1-1. You should have heard the frantic voice he used making that call. He definitely was the world's greatest actor. So upset his son, that he loved so dearly, he claimed, had accidentally, of course, fallen off the pier.

Dad even went as far as telling them that although he had tried all he could he was too late to save me from drowning. When he disconnected the call he had a broad smile on his face.

The second call Dad made was to his life insurance company. Boy, he did not waste any time making that call did he? I'm not dead five minutes and he's already filing the claim on my life?

"Hey kid," I heard an unseen creature in the water asking me, "life sucks don't it"?

I snapped back angrily, "Yes it does!"

The creature then told me, "That guy up there on the pier. He killed you, huh? That's tough".

Unsure whether this unknown creature was taunting me, or what, I simply responded with an emphatic "And!"

Without missing a beat the creature said, "Bet he's gonna stroll down that pier now like he's all that and a bag of chips too," then the creature asked me, "and, are you just going to let him get away with killing you?" he wanted to know.

I watched Dad meandering down the pier with our fishing poles and tackle box in hand. As he did he walked perilously closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly springing up out of the water I grabbed him before he knew what hit him and pulled him back under to our watery graves.

Immediately the creature I had been talking to in the water, and a swirling school of many more of them, swarmed around the dead carcass of my Dad.

"Thanks for the grub!" he nonchalantly told me. Then with a smile on his face he said, "Float over to the edge of the lake kid and keep right on walking out."

I looked over to the creature and said, "Thanks. I guess".

Making my way to the shore I heard him saying "Enjoy the rest of your life kid and may it be a long and happy one too".

Walking away from that lake I never once looked back.

My Dad and I always liked to go fishing together.