Shrimpin'

The Missus and I spent many winters in South Texas after we retired. One day we were walking along the beach when we saw a man poking a device into the sand, sucking up clumps, and dropping them on top the sand. He was hunting ghost shrimp.  We inlanders had never heard of such a thing, and as he explained it to us, he brought up another clump and several little creatures were wiggling in it.  Miz Warr, always delighted with new things, and always helpful bent down and helped the man pick out the critters and put them in his bucket. . And about that time, a Texas Park and Wildlife ranger strolled up.  "Catchin' any?" he asked.  Man handed him his bucket, Warden quickly counted eleven shrimp, said, "Lookin' good; you can pick nine more, May I see your license, please?"  Man digs in pocket of his shorts and show him his license.  Officer turns to the Wife, says, "Your license, please."  "Oh," she said, "I'm just a tourist walking along the beach." Ranger says, super-politely, "Ma'am, I observed you picking shrimp from the sand. If you have no license, I'll have to write you up." And he did.  Then he turned to me, I was standing about eight feet away, and asked for my license,  "For what? I asked. I'm just strolling along the beach, saw this weird activity and stopped to see what was going on.  "You're not with these people?" "Oh, I said, "you got that right."

Doghouse, doghouse, and a deep hole in my billfold where the money used to be before I paid her fine.