I'll fry that M**F**!!!
I spotted the fish. Not just any fish — a massive, glowing, almost mythical creature that looked straight out of a fantasy novel. I cast my line, thinking I was about to land the catch of a lifetime. And in a way… I did.
There was a blinding flash. A strange pull. I blacked out. Next thing I know, I'm standing waist-deep in the water, rocking a body that looks like it belongs on a beach calendar, wearing a tiny bikini I definitely didn’t own before. My name used to be Richard — now everyone calls me Riley. I don’t even know if the paperwork still says otherwise.
Every morning since, I’ve been out here again. People probably think I’m just another bikini-clad influencer trying to score views with some “girl power fishing” content. If only they knew I used to be a middle-aged dude with a beer gut and a solid 9-to-5 in air conditioning repair.
But I know that fish is still out there. Sometimes I swear I see it — a quick glimmer beneath the surface, a mocking wave of its tail, like it’s daring me to try again. And I will. Because when I finally reel that bastard back in, I’m getting answers.
Maybe I’ll find a way to reverse this spell... or maybe I’ll just ask for a sponsorship deal and learn to live with the tan lines.
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