Anton Schwartz was an old childhood friend. We often made fun of him and called him “Anton Noire” (children can be so cruel). When he was young he happily sowed his wild oats but his encounters with the justice forced him to join the Colonial forces where he brought honor to France. All of our colonies in Africa (center and north), in Asia (Tonkin, Viet Nam and others that I won’t even mention), held no secrets for my friend. He could tell you stories for hours, his voice often breaking with emotion. One day he invited me to the “Mousmee” bar where he the following story. “My dear Fleche, like you, I am crazy about fly fishing; it’s a most instructive passtime and I have a story that I think you’ll appreciate. It took place ages ago on my return from the war of Tonkin. On the shores of the Red River I had fallen head over heels in love with a delicious native whose singular name was “Long-Long”. She was an magnificent local specimen and I brought her back to France along with the whole tribe of her brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts and all the rest; you can take it from me… that was an enormous pack of yellows! It will come as no surprise to you that the surpassing culinary passion of these people is for fish. They consume enormous quantities of fish morning, noon and night. You can well understand that given the prohibitive prices of these acquatic beasts, whose freshness in our sinister french fish markets was relative, that these poor asiatics were in tears. And Fleche, you know me, you can imagine how the chagrin of these people broke my heart and gave me considerable, unexpected, inventive resources to render life supportable for my friends…. I am certainly, first of all, a christian. Well, it’s no secret that the women in that part of the world possess hair of an uncommon finess, length and solidity.
The hair of Long-Long was the most resistant of all of those given me to test and I don’t have to tell you about my dexterity, practically legendary, as a tyer of artificial flies. In my head, always boiling with ideas, was the germ of an idea that history will qualify as Genius.” “My dear Anton, I’m all ears.” “Well, here’s what happened. Without skipping a beat I tied 2,000 little artificial flies. It took me a couple of hours, of course. Then I tied them into the ends of Long-Long’s hair; she had hair which hung down to her fanny (in passing… she had an exemplary fanny!) We then went a spot in the river where I knew that there were a lot of fish. There I asked Long-Long to float, orienting her head with the current, allowing her hair to spread out and undulate in the water. I held her by her heels solidly in place and, as though I had a vulgar flyrod, I waited for a bite. I have to say the bites for in less than 5 minutes there were 2,000 little fish dangling at the ends of her hair. Ah… the vision of those little silver fish flapping on the rear end of Long-Long… A real film of fishing porno! We ran through the operation several more times and returned home with 25 pounds of irreprochably fresh fish. I can’t begin to describe the joy of Long-Long’s family, it still brings tears to my eyes!” “Ahhh! my dear Anton, the greatness of your heart touches me deeply. There… It touches me there… So, what if we celebrate, make a little stop at the whore house over on Mule’s Feet Street. There is a new one that is surprising.” “Excellent idea my dear Fleche! Let’s go, hearts high, like when I was in the Foreign Legion in Sidi bel Abbes singing out: “Tiens; voila du boudin pour les Alsaciens; les Suisses et les lorrains pour les Belges, y en plus; etc…”