I love to master bait. I've been master baiting for over 40 years. I love waking up to the morning fog, rowing out to the middle of the neighborhood lake, and master baiting. Last week, while I was master baiting on the lake's edge (which some experts like myself know as a technique called "edging") some of the neighborhood children came up to me: "Wow, sir, that's a mighty big one you've got there. You mind if we touch it?" "No problem." I responded. "Once you become really good at master baiting as well, you, too, will find it easier to master bait the bigger ones." Sometimes my wife doesn't appreciate my master baiting, though. "You've been out master baiting all day. Have you still not looked for a job?" Now, I haven't been employed for a while because I'd rather master bait than be at work. The other day my boss caught me slacking off, fantasizing about master baiting while at the cubicle. Sometimes I wish I could master bait in the cubicle. But unfortunately, the cubicle is not wet enough of an environment for me to master bait in it. "Are you thinking about master baiting again?" My wife interjects. "No," I lie, "I was just enamored by the smell of your cooking." "Well I'm done." She says. She hands me a ribeye. "I think it's a little raw." I say, slapping my meat. She comes over to inspect. "No, it's soft like that because of the way I handled it." She says, again slapping my meat. "Ok, then." I say, before finishing. Then, after I'm done finishing, I go to right to bed and am fast asleep, ready to master bait the next day.
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