Ichthyology, the branch of zoology that deals with fishes, lists many unusual names — most of them known only to ichthyologists, but perhaps the name that arouses the most curiosity belongs to a fish known as the SOB.
A friend of mine, who, like me, never exaggerates nor prevaricates, related the following account of a priest who caught a big SOB, and certain that my honest friend is loath to evade veracity, I am passing the story on as fact. To save space, the fish’s expanded name has been reduced to its abbreviation.
Father Obadiah O’Hoolihan, whose passion was fishing, was enjoying a well-earned vacation in a small seacoast fishing village. He hired a seasoned sailor, Sylvester “Stubb” Santiago, whose nickname derived from the ever-present stubby pipe in his mouth.
As he stepped aboard Stubb’s boat, the Pequod, O’Hoolihan had high hopes that he was about to experience the angling adventure of a lifetime, and his pipe-smoking guide delivered. Obadiah was almost jerked out of his fighting chair by a strike, and though the battle could have gone either way, he finally landed the big brute.
“Congratulations, Father! That’s the biggest SOB I’ve ever seen,” said Stubb.
After catching his breath, O’Hoolihan said, “Thank you so much, Stubb, but please — mind you language. As you know, I’m a man of the cloth.”
“Oh, but you misunderstand, Father. That’s actually the name of this fish, and you’ll be pleased to know, nothing that swims tastes better than an SOB.”
Happy and proud, the priest returned to his rectory. Showing the trophy catch to Sister Evangeline, he boasted, “My guide said that’s the biggest SOB he’s ever seen.”
Shocked, the nun said, “Father! I’ve never known you to resort to such foul language.”
“But, Sister, that is the actual name of this type of fish, and fish-loving gourmets prize his flesh above all others.”
“You couldn’t have caught him at a better time, Father. The new bishop is joining us for supper. Let me dress this big SOB.”
Friar Ferdinand walked in while Evangeline was dressing the fish. “Wow! What a monster.”
“Yes, said Evangeline, “Father O’Hoolihan caught this big SOB.”
Taken aback, the friar said, “Shame on you, Sister Evangeline, for using such crude language.” She explained that SOB was the fish’s actual name.
An accomplished chef, Ferdinand said, “When you’re done, give that big SOB to me. I’ll prepare a meal that is sure to delight the new bishop.”
As they gathered around the table, the friar brought in the pièce de résistance.
“My heavens,” exclaimed the bishop. “That is one huge fish.”
Glowing with pride, Father O’Hoolihan said, “Yes, Your Reverence, I caught that big SOB.”
The bishop was obviously surprised, but said nothing.
“And I cleaned that big SOB,” said Evangeline.
“And I cooked that big SOB,” said Ferdinand.
The bishop looked around the table, smiled happily, and said, “Well, I’ll be damned. I feel right at home amongst you folks. Let’s say grace, and eat this big SOB.”
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
