Yesterday my sister Maryann and I swam out to the raft with my dad. Dad climbed on the raft and discovered a dead fish left by a seagull. Maryann and I were still in the water. Maryann thought, "I should tell Dad not to throw it at me." Then she thought, "Of course he won't throw it at me." So she said nothing.
Dad threw the fish at her.
She remembers it coming right toward her face. Her reflexes kicked in and she spun around in the water. It hit her smack dab on the back of her head.
It was hilarious, but--of course--not funny at all. Dad swears he didn't do it on purpose.
I just watched the whole event from a safe distance. Once, I threw a fish poorly, so I can't really judge Dad. Apparently fish are not easy to throw with any degree of accuracy.
The summer Jack started fishing here at the lake, I had to be his assistant. Putting worms on hooks, taking fish off them. Then he caught a fish that I couldn't get off the hook. I didn't know then that I was supposed to just cut the line and throw it back. No, I tried to get the hook out. I tried and tried until I thought the fish was dead.
I threw it into the bushes.
But instead of landing in the bushes, the fish hit the trunk of a tree and ricocheted onto the lawn. And I discovered it wasn't dead. The hook hadn't killed him; the tree hadn't killed him. There it lay on the grass flopping around, a fish out of water. Hilarious, but not funny at all. The episode actually led to my retirement from fishing.
After today, though, at least I can say I didn't chuck it at my sister's head.