"Aren't you going to help me out," Greg demanded.

"No," Cat said, "I'm having too much fun!"

After 5 minutes or so he finally managed to climb the slippery, slimey slope on his own. "Let's go," he said.

"What?" Cat protested, "We just got here."

Greg said something about it being 40 degrees out and he was freezing his bass off. Cat called him a weinie and explained how, with the rate of evaporation at 40 degrees and his bodies gradual acclimation to his condition he should be comfortable in a couple hours, so why ruin a perfectly good fishing trip?

Greg got mad as a wet fin and started walking over to carp at Cat when he slipped on the wet bank and fell in a 3rd time.

Greg was cussing a blue streak and kicking at the water when Cat announced "I'm going now. You've probably scared all the fish away anyway."

He was still clawing his way up the bank when Cat drove away. "Can you blame me for not wanting to get my car seats all wet with smelly old river water?" Cat asked. "He did! Now he won't even return my calls, the big freaking dork."