THE GATOR WHO LOST ITS WAY

I was watching the news the other night and there was a story about a gator who had lost its way. Apparently it had wandered into a residential neighborhood and decided to camp out in the backyard of an unsuspecting elderly couple. When they became privy to the arrival of their uninvited guest, and realized that shouting at it would not scare it away (this does not work for prank callers, why would it work for alligators?) they panicked and went to plan B and immediately called the sheriff's department who panicked and immediately called animal control, who panicked and immediately called in some "Gator Be Gone" large animal removal service. To make a long story not so long, our hero enters, lassos the gator, throws an empty potato sack on its head, and wrestles it to the ground. The gator was eventually taken to a land far far away where meddlesome wild animals can roam free from the engines of semis and the taunts of elderly couples.

What I found most interesting about this story was the eyewitness play-by-play by the old woman afterward. In typical humiliating news interview fashion granny is all decked out in her Victoria's Secret muumuu, hairnet, and fuzzy slippers. She proceeds to retell the story in her own words, and even added some simulated gator noises to enhance the realism. I think my favorite part of the account was when she said, "the man whipped out his thingy and took the gator down". Yes, it was a harrowing tale, but I think it sends the wrong message to the viewer at home. There is an easier way of dealing with this problem.

From my own reptilian massacre expeditions I have learned that you never go into a heated fight with a hungry gator armed solely with a thingy. Trust me, gators don’t respect thingies, it’s a psychological thing. Thingies are things you smack a cat on the nose with when it is turning the arm of your couch into a Don King hairdo. However for fighting large predators with pointy teeth I highly recommend you pack your overnight bag with something a little more substantial. My weapon of choice would be a World War I bazooka, which can be easily purchased at a county gun fair with a tight fake ID. The gator will recognize your big gun as something he/she shouldn’t be messin’ with, even on the most evil of testosterone/estrogen binges. Naturally, upon seeing your massive WMD (and I can say this with great prettysuredness from my vast late-night curator experience watching Animal Planet and Discovery Channel), this primitive animal will run for cover like a man being chased by Liza Manelli. It is at this point where you will flex your great beastmaster muscle by showing no mercy to your overmatched adversary and squeeze that trigger when its scaly back is turned. For mesmerizing cinematic effect, may I suggest you utter the words “See you later alligator”, in your best eastern European accent if possible. And won’t you be the toast of the town when the beast gets lit up like a South Carolina fireworks display and turns into disgusting, yet tasty, gatorfetti. At this point, victorious, you send in the neighbors and news crew with skewers, potatoes, onions, peppers, tomatoes, hmmm and maybe even some avocado, and you all enjoy a well-earned meal, reminiscing fondly about the gator who lost its way.

…and the moral of the story: it takes years of practice and loads of skill to do with a thingy what one can do with a big gun in almost no time at all