Mua Cần Câu Tép
BUYING A SHRIMPING ROD—HAS MY HUSBAND LOST HIS MIND?
By Jim Huynh
Part One: After Supper
This evening, as soon as supper was through—
Thai fermented fish dip, and fresh herbs to chew—
My husband rushed straight to our bedroom and then
Came out freshly dressed like a courting young man.
No everyday bà ba, familiar and plain:
A crisp Western shirt and smart trousers again.
A jaunty new hat perched high on his hair;
Dark glasses and wristwatch—he dressed with such flair.
“Where are you going in such a great hurry?
You always help clear up—now why should I worry?”
“Just one little errand, my dear, nothing more.
I won’t be gone long—I’ll come back through the door.”
But evening had fallen—there wasn’t much sun.
Why shades? Why the hat? And his shaving just done?
White shirt, Western trousers, his watch swinging free—
He scarcely said goodbye as he hurried from me.
“Why all of this rushing? Now tell me the truth:
Are you off to meet some sweet lady of youth?”
“I just need a shrimping rod. That’s all,” he said.
“I’ll buy it, come home, and be right back in bed.”
“A shrimping rod? What do you need that thing for?
The pond in our backyard has shrimp by the score!
Your talk makes no sense—I can’t make head or tail
Of why you need tackle for shrimp without fail.”
Part Two: One Hour Later
About an hour later, the husband returns.
He came through the doorway, a parcel in hand,
His face full of joy, like a boy feeling grand.
No fishing rod anywhere—only a case.
He opened the box and leaned close to my face.
“This rod is unusual, darling—look here:
No line and no hook, neither bait nor fishing gear.
They call it a battery-powered shrimping rod,
So I bought extra batteries.” I stared at him, floored.
“Good heavens, you’re crazy! What sort of a stick
Needs batteries—and why is it stubby and thick?
With shrimp in our pond, why buy such a thing?
I don’t trust this rod or the tale that you bring!”
My husband just grinned, looking terribly pleased:
“Tonight we’ll catch shrimp, dear, as neat as you please.
And not the sad, shriveled-up shrimp you suppose.
Just wait until bedtime—you’ll see how it goes.”
Part Three: Around Ten O’ Clock
My husband came out of the shower scrubbed clean,
Then hurried to tell me, “Go bathe, my sweet queen.”
What had come over him? Why act so bizarre?
What scheme was he planning—and just how far?
When I had finished and stepped through the door,
He stood there stark naked—no clothing he wore.
Like one aging silkworm, all wrinkled and bare;
And his poor little fellow hung limp in despair.
“Lie down here beside me, my darling,” he said.
“Tonight I’ll go shrimping right here in our bed.”
“But shrimping means ponds! What are you talking about?
Why ask me to lie here? What are you about?”
“Take off all your clothing. Come, don’t be afraid.
I’ll fish where the moonlight and starlight both fade.
Just close both your eyes and lie still, if you can;
I’ll sit by the bedside and show you my plan.”
My eyelids grew heavy; my breathing grew fast;
My heartbeat went wild as the moments slipped past.
A moan rose within me; my legs curled up tight;
And one eager hand seized the rod with delight.
Then Little Miss Shrimp shyly lifted her head,
To peek at the curious rod by the bed.
Before I quite knew it, the waters had flowed—
And that timid small shrimp like a lobster had grown!
“Gently, my darling—yes, there is the spot.
Slowly, now—in and out. Oh! That’s getting hot!
I can’t bear another—oh, heavens above!”
I screamed to the rafters and grabbed his young man.
At that, his small fellow rose proudly at last;
By one stroke of luck, all his weakness had passed.
“Oh, husband, such pleasure—what else could I do?
That rod made a woman of me—and a man out of you!”
That night, husband and wife slept soundly until morning.
THE END
