Afore I get too far into this here yarn, maybe I better give me, Harry, 'n my fishin' buddies a few words of introduction to you folks out there in "Bassin' Land" what ain't familiar with our goin's-on. We's just plain ol' country-type folks what loves apple pie, mom, the Good Ol' U.S. of A. and most of all, "HAWG" fishin'. We lives in the li'l ol' town of Swamp Gas Corners, USA, which for sake of reference is somewhere betwixt Onion City and Possumburg.
Me, I'm Charlie, just a regular-type guy, slightly overweight, who's all ate up with bassin' fever. My best buddy, that's Harry, is the nervous type, and so skinny he can walk through a harp without playin' a string.
Our li'l ol' town has some of the oddest character types you ever done seen. People like Wilbur Wangle, the local pump jockey. Then there's Lefty LePieux, a Cajun BASSer thru 'n thru. Mouse Mozzarella, he's a li'l Italian guy what carries a mean hawg stick 'n smells like a pizzaria. Crusty Popodopolus is our Bass Club president, and the richest guy in the county. Usta be a Greek sponge diver afore he came to Swamp Gas Corners and got involved in some dealin's what made him a bundle. Big Moe, our club secretary and official bouncer, is the most lovable red-neck in town. Then there's Timmy Tipp, the local pharmacist and one of the cheapest sorts you'd ever care not to meet. Why, he's so cheap, he once put new rubber tips on a pair of repossessed crutches 'n sold 'em for new.
