(It’s all True, I Swear)
Written by Anne Richardson
Illustrated by Phil Boettcher the Betta
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Tanya and Phil, without whom I’d have no story to write, or illustrations for the story if I wrote one anyway.
The Story…
Once upon a time, in a land far far away (known to some as Wyoming and to others as Montana), a princess was born. Princess Tanya was no ordinary princess. Though she often acquired pink fluffy boas and flowers and shiny things, she always felt at home in her camo under-britches and fly-fishing vest. In fact, she was 11 years old before her mother the Queen could get her to brush her hair (the results of which are still questionable).
Growing up, Tanya had heard of other princesses from other far away places who had issues with sleeping because of peas in the mattress or pricking a wussy finger on a spinning wheel and passing out or cramming a foot into a glass slipper to escape a life of chimney sweeping, and Tanya thought these stupid hoes needed to get a grip. All these stories of swooning and waiting for princely rescue were a bit nauseating to say the least.
However, since Tanya was indeed a princess, she did have some obligations to the world: a) wishing she weren’t a princess b) not wanting to marry some dumb prince who her dad liked c) going on some crazy journey to lands far far from home in search of something noble and intangible. So, despite her distaste for the cliché, but still shirking her royal roots, she packed her fishing vest full of bait, hooks, lures, line, a knife, cinnamon bears, a digital camera, extra batteries & memory cards, waders, a tent, a sleeping bag, some firewood, waterproof matches, and a few frozen mocha lattes from Starbucks, and fled to Arizona, a land even farther away than Wyoming, and hotter, and drier, and free of the burdens of Daylight Savings Time.
Meanwhile, having been given specific orders from King Schoonover the Mighty to “retrieve my Precious at any cost,” a tall and strapping Cowboy Knight, charged down the river trail on his trusty steed, “Prancer.”
On her long and lonely journey, Tanya met lots of people. But they weren’t exactly the people with whom she wanted to make this journey. They were mostly the hobbling hunchback yeeeesssmaaaassssster kind or the starched-floral-shirt-wearing-gay-cowboy kind or the orange chest-haired sleep-with-your-puppy-then-eat-it kind. Weary from these sometimes frightening but mostly irritating experiences, she decided that she’d have to give up popping into Home Depots to look at paint swatches on this journey and just stick to the river trail.
One evening, while she tied flies for the morning’s fishing routine, she heard a SPLASH! in the river and went to investigate. When she got to the riverbed, she saw that one of the thigh-high waders she brought was missing—suspenders and all—and just one tall crumpled wader remained on the shore.
“$#*@! Mother &*$%#@*! You %$# stinking %$#@$#!” she said, as she had a bit of a foul mouth.
Tanya leapt into the river, thrashing after the lone wader that was now just a boot tip bobbing through the current. “@%$#%$#!” she cried as the tip went under. “What the %$&#@ am I supposed to do now?!” she posed out loud rather harshly.
Surprisingly, an answer came, “um, just swim over to that little pool, duck under, and pull it back out.”
“Who’s there?” she grilled.
“Uh, me.” said the voice.
“Well, who’s ‘me’?” she pressed.
“Well I don’t know who you are, and the proper way to phrase that question is ‘who am I,’ not this ‘who’s me’ nonsense.” replied the voice.
“Alright smartass, to whom do I owe this glorious grammar lesson?” Tanya asked with false sweetness. She just wanted to get the damn wader back already.
“To me, Phil Boettcher the Betta, at your service.” Tanya looked down into the water by her waist and saw a fish as glorious as his grammar lesson (which does make sense, after all, that it should be as glorious as he). Shocked, but somehow pleased by this new development, Tanya said, “why thank you Phil Boettcher the Betta. I certainly appreciate your helping me locate my wayward wader and polishing my grammar. Now if you’d please excuse me, I’ve got to make my way over to that pool you pointed out.”
“No worries, mind if I join you?” Phil replied.
“Sure,” Tanya allowed, “why not?”
Together they retrieved the wader and swam back to shore. Within 10 minutes they were carrying on like old friends. “Gee Phil, you’re really swell.” (he’d given her a lesson on cussing as well) “I’m going to miss you when I pack up camp tomorrow. For I am Princess Tanya and I am on a journey to the land of Arizona,” she confessed.
“Well shit girl,” (her foul mouth had rubbed off a bit on him) “why didn’t you say so? I’m headed to Arizona myself. Let’s go together.”
“Really?!” she exclaimed, “what a fantastic idea!”
And with that, their eyes locked for an instant and Tanya turned away blushing. “I’ll see you in the morning, Phil.”
Alone in her tent, Tanya imagined traveling with her new friend—talking, skipping through the meadows, playing silly little splashy games in the river, cooking baked beans over a fire—until she drifted off into a land of aquamarine dreams.
At dawn, Tanya and Phil packed up camp. Just as they were putting out the last of the breakfast fire’s embers, the Cowboy Knight burst into the scene.
“Ah ha!” he exclaimed, pointing one arm to the sky in revelation. “There you are! I knew you couldn’t go far!” The Cowboy Knight dismounted Prancer, leapt to Tanya’s fly fishing vest and yanked out the waders. “The King will be glad to have you back!” he spoke snidely to the waders. Tanya and Phil stood frozen, mouths gaping. “And you’re all wet too! He’ll be having words with you later—somebody’s going to be in big trouble…” With waders in hand, the Cowboy Knight hopped back onto Prancer who reared in snooty success and galloped away.
“What the hell was that all about?” Phil asked.
“I have no &#%@$ clue” Tanya responded. “let’s get moving.”
They traveled several fortnight until the river became to small and dry for Phil to continue. He hopped into Tanya’s spare Nalgene bottle for ease of travel. On the morning of the fifth fortnight, Tanya turned to Phil’s bottle unscrewed the lid, and told him, “Phil, I don’t know how I’ll go on. You are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me—and now that I’ve arrived in Arizona, we must go our separate ways. For you are a fish and I am a girl and the people of Arizona don’t look kindly on these sorts of relationships. In fact, I’ve heard of this place called Arizona State University where the guys join these groups called fraternities and they swallow betta whole just to impress girls. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not impressed by boys who do that, but I just don’t think it will be safe for you here.”
“You’re right,” said Phil, “I only said I was on my way to Arizona just so I could spend more time with you. I must confess, from the moment I first saw your ankles in the river, I knew I was in love. This journey has only magnified that love for you. Princess Tanya Schoonover, I love you with all of my fishy gills, fins, and heart.”
“Oh Phil, what should we do? We’ve come all this way?” Tanya sobbed like a little wussy princess from other lands far far away.
“Well, first stop your bitchass from sobbing like a little wussy princess from other lands far far away, are you or are you not wearing camo under-britches?”
“I am,” she sniffed, then peeked down her pants just to check, “yep, I am.”
“Okay good. Now let’s hit the road to Colorado so we can live happily ever after,” Phil pronounced.
“Oh Phil, I love you!” Tanya proclaimed as she tipped the Nalgene bottle up and smooched Phil wetly on the head. Immediately, Phil shot out of the bottle and into the air, bazillions of little fairy tale stars and golden dust sprinkles circled his levitating body as he transformed into one freaking hot ass cowboy fly fisherman.
When his feet gently touched down, Phil professed, “I am but a cowboy fly fisherman prince waiting to be kissed by a princess from Wyoming (or Montana) so that we can move to Colorado and live happily ever after!” his voice was rich with the undertones of a dual-e diesel truck. So they journeyed to Colorado and lived happily ever after, which was really kind of twisted considering how much Tanya loved to eat sushi.
The End
Critics are raving about A Reel Life Fairy Tale About Tanya Schoonover
The Gillette Gazette
This is a mesmerizing tale of love and fish and fishing.
—Frankie Twostep McGee
Publishers Clearing House
We don’t really publish books, so I don’t know why I should be commenting on it. Yeah I read it, but I didn’t get it.
—Ed McMahon
Some Guy Named Bob
This book is pretty good. They told me to say that. I haven’t really read it.
—Bob
The Betta Bubbler
This is a good story. I like the part about smooching on the Betta fish. You know, Bettas need love too. It’s nice to see the Betta population represented in such an openminded and loving way. Richardson has a gift for understanding the true undercurrents of Betta’s lives.
—Phil Boettcher the Betta
Posted by lortz 
Posted by lortz 
Posted by lortz 
