In the year two thousand and twenty two, an eclectic band of writers, hunters, and other celebrities descended on southern Missouri for their annual gathering.
For months they looked forward to their usual camaraderie and rabble rousing. However, it was unseasonably hot, and downright miserable in the autumn sun.
Someone proposed “gigging”—an ancient pursuit steeped in mystery—which apparently consists of stabbing at sucker fish in the dark with shamefully narrow forks mounted on unwieldy poles. Nobody knew much about it, on account that it isn’t much practiced anymore.
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