Louisa Mayberrys gaze was fixed on the limb. What could have happened? she asked.
Tiger shark, her husband said matter-of-factly.
Is that a wedding band on his hand? This is so sad.
Fish on! the mate called. Whos up?
James Mayberry steered his bride to the fighting chair and the mate fitted the rod into the gimbal. Although she was petite, Louisa Mayberry owned a strong upper body due to rigorous Bikram yoga classes that she took on Tuesday nights. Refusing assistance, she pumped in an eleven-pound blackfin tuna and whooped triumphantly as it flopped on the deck. Her husband had never seen her so excited.
Here, take a picture! she cried to the mate, and handed over her iPhone.
Hold on, James Mayberry said. Get both of us together.
Louisa watched him hustle to get ready. Really, Jimmy? Really?
Moments later the captain glanced down from the bridge and saw the mate snapping photographs of the newlyweds posed side by side at the transom. Their matching neon blue Oakley wraparounds were propped on their matching cap visors, and their fair Wisconsin noses practically glowed with sunblock.
Louisa Mayberry was gamely hoisting by the tail her sleek silvery tuna while James Mayberry wore the mates crusty gloves to grip his rancid catch, its middle finger aimed upward toward the puffy white clouds.
The captain dragged on a cigarette and turned back to the wheel.
Another f------ day in paradise, he said.
Excerpted from Bad Monkey by Carl Hiaasen. Copyright © 2013 by Carl Hiaasen. Excerpted by permission of Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.