I confess: I've been picking on a little, short-legged guy

Through more than 20 years of writing a weekly Outdoors column and then a full Outdoors page for the Nevada Appeal, I've had the pleasure of picking on and/or teasing a countless number of relatives, neighbors, co-workers, friends and acquaintances, including my wife Elaine, son Jim and numerous camping, fishing and hunting companions.

Heck, it's fun to do it and the readers enjoy reading about them.

More often than not, my primary targets have been my usual fishing partners Norm Budden (who I nicknamed Cheater No. 1), Bob McCulloch (who I nicknamed Slick and Cheater No. 2) and Don Hettrick (who I nicknamed Don H).

Those two dastardly villains, Budden and McCulloch, are constantly pulling all kinds of pranks or jokes on me, which then cause me to retaliate via my column in the Nevada Appeal.

They have done some very bad things to me, whenever a few of us are somewhere in the outdoors.

Then I proceed to get even with those two dummies by writing about them in the newspaper, which thousands of folks read. Sigh, they just will never learn.

In fact, I can guarantee that you will never, ever, see either one of them as a contestant on the TV show "Jeopardy." No way!

Hettrick, on the other hand, is my favorite and frequent fishing partner. Unfortunately for him, whenever we are together or even when he is alone, Don H can get into all kinds of hilarious predicaments in the blink of an eye.

Things happen to him, routinely, that should never happen to anyone at anytime, anywhere.

Plus, when we are fishing, he can not steer his boat in a straight line for more than 10 feet, even if you held a gun to his head. It's physically impossible!

We have made some very interesting and sometimes hair-raising turns that have hopelessly tangled all of our fishing lines. And, that includes our fishing trip to Lahontan Reservoir just this last Tuesday.

Because of those reasons and many more, that poor guy has also been the subject of many funny columns in the past.

However, there is one more individual who I dearly love to pick on because of his reaction whenever I do so.

I confess: I've been picking on a little, short-legged guy.

I'm kind of like a mad scientist in a basement laboratory, who pokes a frog in the butt to see how far it will jump.

Tibureio "Marty" Martinez of Carson City is my personal frog.

I like to poke him to get a reaction.

He is retired from the U.S. Army, lives here in Carson City, is feisty as heck, a ton of fun, and we have know each other and have fished together for many years.

I love to tease him to get a reaction and to hear him loudly shout nasty things like: "You garlic-eating, spaghetti-loving, egg-sucking, blankity-blank, blankity-blank, blankity-blank."

It all goes back to a number of years ago, when a group of us were fishing in our chest waders at Walker Lake and Marty was picking on me, about something, in front of everyone else.

I said: "Hey dummy, cool it. I spent four years in the U.S. Air Force, where I was a trained killer."

Without any hesitation at all and without laughing, Marty instantly retorted, "Oh, I didn't know that you were a cook."

That's the best "Got Ya," that I've ever had laid on me, bar none! Those other guys still remind me of that great comeback by Marty.

Since then, I've had a ball concocting "little white lies" (AKA big fibs, sometimes) about Marty's supposed lack of fishing skill, just to get his shouted reaction.

Then, as a bonus, when the poor guy wanders into Mo & Sluggo's (his favorite hangout), the old-time, regular customers jump all over him like roosters on a kernel of corn, about his apparent miserable fishing ability.

For the record and for all the guys at Mo & Sluggo's, Marty (AKA to them as "No Fish Martinez") is not quite a world-class fisherman (like the rest of us), but on the other hand, he is not quite as poor a fisherman as I have painted him out to be. Not quite.

It's just that I love to get his shouted reactions and because an unholy combination of the Devil and Norm Budden make me do it.

Yep, it's true! I confess!

Whenever Budden and Martinez go fishing somewhere, Normie will get in contact with me, after they return home, and the two of us will put our heads together and concoct a fishing report (full of white lies or worse) about Marty's supposed miserable performance that day.

Then Normie will say I can't wait until Marty reads that in the newspaper on Thursday, calls me at 6 in the morning and begins to shout, "That garlic-eating, spaghetti-loving, egg-sucking, blankity-blank, blankity-blank, blankity-blank did it to me again."

Then, he will continue to rant and rave and say, "Now, I don't dare to go into Mo & Sluggo's until those guys forget about what they read in the paper."

Ah, life is good: Mission accomplished. I got him again.

So, Marty, in summary:

Norm Budden makes me all these evil things. Honest!

And, just to show you I'm trying to make amends: "Wanna go fishing, old pal, just you and I?"

I promise to tell the truth in the Nevada Appeal (slyly said with my fingers crossed behind my back).

• Bet Your Favorite Pigeon

Bet your favorite pigeon that he can't tell you who taught Marty all he knows about fishing.

If he grins and says, "Don Q taught Marty all he knows about the sport of fishing," you better check to see if his fingers are crossed behind his back, too.

• Don Quilici is the Outdoor editor for the Nevada Appeal