We were quietly working on some handcrafts, chatting together, enjoying the relatively few interruptions, Mrs E and I…….when a shriek pierced the stillness and we both leapt to our feet.
“We’ve got one,” the shrieker continued as the mob of excited children ran up from the bush across the lawn, “we’ve got an eel!”
“It’s enormous.”
“You should see it.”
“We caught it with our bare hands.”
“It’s so big.”
“Really truly we have one, come and look.”
Abandoning embroidery and knitting needles, we stepped out into the bright sunshine of success. For weeks now these kids had spent their together-time wallowing in the muddy creek in valiant efforts to capture one of the slippery writhing muscles. And now they had done it.
I regretted having given the instruction weeks back that we would only kill one if we were to eat it. This baby was big enough to feed both families. And our family had not prepared anything for dinner this night.
Is it superfluous to add the menu was now decided?
But the more-than-metre-long eel was still alive and making his presence felt. He needed to meet death. Mrs E knows about fish, I know about nothing, Mr Google filled in the details and the boys weilded knives (and measuring tape).
The Eds went home, bearing “steaks” on a chilli-pad.
The boys fired up the BBQ.
Grandpa pronounced, “Creek flavoured chewing gum, that’s what it’s like. It resists being chewed to destruction.”
And he was right, although the littlest girls ate every last bit of flesh.
off the BOOKshelf 
I agree with Grandpa’s description!!!! There was a little left over on our table!!!!