Anthony Kestas

Ms. Hughes
English 1101
11, September 2014
The Green Boat
You guys are a bunch of assholes! my brother states as he stands on the end of a pier, while I
am captaining my familys boat, slowly guiding it into its docking spot. I look up at him and
exclaim Me!?! Im as asshole? Youre the fucking asshole. I knew exactly why he was mad bit
that wasnt my fault. My younger only brother Michael Kestas, has been called many things by
many people. My father best described him as a rouge shark, just swimming around not looking
for a fight, but if anybody was nice enough to get near him he would be so angry for no apparent
reason. That person quickly learned to get away quickly. I as well have called him many things.
Michael is taller then I by about two inches, and has always been rather lanky, long skinny legs
and arms with a long skinny face; My dad and I would poke fun at him by asking, Why the long
face Seas biscuit? Along with many other jokes that certainly might have to-do with his Rouge
Shark mentality. While myself on the other hand am just about a polar opposite of my brother.
Shorter than he is, considerably much stouter, out weighing him by 100 pounds.
As we grew up, me being the older brother that I am, would puck on Michael at every
possible opportunity. Friends and family would always say, Tony! Michael is going to be bigger
then you one day and pay you back for all the times you picked on him! To this very day he has
yet to be bigger than me. Immediately after tying the boat to the dock I jump up and roar, We

all tried to wake you up this morning, you told us to go on without you! My grandfather, sister,
dad and I all took turns trying to wake Michael up at 4:30 in the morning so that we could get an
early start at fishing on Long Lake. We had hoped by waking up super early that we would break
our three day slump of not catching any fish. After fishing all morning we hadnt even gotten a
nibble! Which also may have played into the events that would soon unfold? As I helped my
grandpa and sister out of the boat, my brother continued to badmouth me, almost knowing he
would definitely get a rise out of me. Once he climbed into the small 16 foot 1973 Pleasure craft,
we were standing toe to toe, nose to nose, mother-effing each other up and down!
Now generally when I get flustered my trash talking and ability to zing insults, quickly
evades my thought process. Being the bigger brother that I am I used my size to my advantage. I
did what any big brother does, I shoved Michael, not as hard as I possibly could but certainly
hard enough to get him on his heels a bit, after all we are brothers, I couldnt knowingly sucker
punch him in the mouth like it was some bar fight. I shoved him like a sumo wrestler pushes and
drives his opponent from the ring. The ring just happened to be our small boat; I wasnt looking
for a fight necessarily, just flexing my big brother muscle. Up until this point I still wasnt guilty
of doing anything wrong. But as soon as I fired the first warning shot! There was an imaginable
bell heard by both parties. DING DING DING, he pushed me, I countered trying to move out of
the way, and gave him another strong shove. All of a sudden we were both battling=, each trying
to get the upper hand in order to catch his opponent off balance and toss them out of the boat and
into the lake.
As fate would have it Michael and I grew up playing hockey, we were both known as
tough individuals and never backed down from a fight or a Good Tilt on the ice. Both being
good fighters in hockey, meant our balance and center of gravity was very good. Even in a boat

that is being rocked and rolled while two grown men have a sumo battle royal in side of it.
Neither of us went down, and only growing angrier. My dad began yelling from the cabin, my
grandpa rushing, but yet still hobbling with his can, yelling in an old mans tone, Hey! Hey!
Hey! Quit that, cut that out! Quickly we both realized, there would be no winner to this
brothers brawl and as soon as my grandfather got close enough to the boat he started banging
on the sides with his cane, as if to distract us, begging us to stop.
After only a few minute quarl, we stopped. Both out of breath, no major bumps or
bruises, no stitches or band aids were needed. Only each others pride was hurt, I look to my
grandpa as I climb out of the boat, tears rolling down his face, not sure why though, I stomp
angrily up a steep hill, get into my truck, pull out of the cabin resort and take off screeching the
tires as I pull away! With no purpose, direction, or knowledge of the area; I wasnt going
anywhere, but I was going as fast as I could possibly go. I receive an incoming phone call over
my Bluetooth hands free system. Its my sister, shes back at the cabin crying, and begging me to
come back, my father is very upset and is packing up because according to him we are leaving
immediately. I slow down, turn my truck around, and start heading back the way I came. Parking
my truck, I march in the cabin, my grandfather still crying, he has never been one for any type of
violence, especially between his two grandsons. He was so upset, and couldnt figure understand
why we fight like we do. I explained its just how we are, then I catch my dads attention, he is
still pacing back and forth putting random items into bags, I sternly state, we are not leaving, so
you can stop what you are doing. Reluctantly he stops. The whole family sits down and we
discuss what happened, many swear and off color words still being thrown around. Michael and I
were both already over the situation, we were just jumping through my dads, Now shake hands,
and say youre sorry and hug like brothers hoops.

As the family calmed down, I looked at my brother and said, We need to talk, in
the boat, lets go out and fish and figure this out. I wasnt really trying to talk to my brother, or
even go fishing again. I had something else in mind that would change both of our attitudes.
Michael un-tied the boat and I backed it out onto the lake, no real words being said just a few
mumbles, once we got around the corner of an island and far enough away from the cabin, I
slowed the boat and turned the engine off. Reaching into my pocket and pull out, a bag of what I
used to call, El Diablo Verde. I roll it up into split open cigar, Michael realized what I was doing.
Trying to bury the hatchet, as Native Americans might call it, smoke a peace pipe, of course he
joined in. Both very relaxed and smiling with glassy eyes, we talked, not about the morning, but
as if the morning had never even happened, we continued fishing, trying new spots. Just trying to
catch anything, my dad called me on my cell phone once to make sure we hadnt gotten into
another battle and had sunk the boat. I said, No were just hanging out fishing, I didnt mention
the peace pipe. We fished all day! Around six oclock the sun started the first part of setting, and
as if the heavens finally gave way! Bam! I go a bite, I set the hook, the line being pulled off the
spool. I reeled the fish in. Got it into the net and we both let a loud cheer! It wasnt a big fish by
any means, but it was a nice size northern pike. It was a fish! Just after releasing my fish, bam!
Mikes go one on!, he fights it and reels that one in as well! Cheering and happily smiling, we
stayed in that same spot till the sun was almost out of the sky. Once we got back to the cabin
everything seemed alright again.
That was in June of 2010, the Kestas family still head up to Long Lake, in Sarona
Wisconsin, every year. Recently just my dad, brother and I made a weekend trip up north. Now
much better fisherman, in the four days we were up there we brought home 100 lbs of wild
caught fish! We had an absolute blast, no fights, no peace pipes needed. Just the Kestas men

fishing, in our most favorite place in the world. That lake Im sure has had many stories told
about it. But time the two boys got into a royal rumble in side their small boat, has to be on e of
the best. Its describes my brothers and mine relationship to a T. We may fight with each other,
but dont you dare try to hurt him or try to hurt me. We are two tough nosed sons of bitches,
which show our love by beating each other up.