Giant Lizard in My Backyard

Mortimer awakens to find an alligator in his yard.

"Aaaaaaahh!"

The scream pierced the morning, even louder than last night's storm. He'd heard this scream often enough over the years to ignore it and continue shaving.

"Mortimer Twiddle you get out here this instant!"

So much for shaving.

"Yes, dear."

Mortimer rinsed off the razor and, clad only in his boxers and undershirt, followed his wife's voice out to the back patio.

"There's a giant lizard in the pool!"

"That's an alligator, dear."

"I don't care! It's in my pool!"

"Yes, dear."

"Don't 'yes dear' me! Get rid of it before it eats us all!"

"Yes, dear."

As his wife stomped off, Mortimer realized he was probably going to be late for work. With a sigh, and still clad in just his drawers, he walked out into the backyard. Sure enough, he saw the gator, laying as content as could be on the bottom of the pool. He signed again and went inside to finish shaving and think about what to do.

As he rinsed off the razor, he got an idea. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a half-thawed turkey. He grabbed the turkey, a hammer, some rope, and a wooden gardening stake from the shed and took it all to the back yard. Carefully, he walked across the canal which marked the end of his property onto the common ground on the far bank. This time of year, walking in the canal stirred up all kinds of muck which supposedly drained into The Everglades, but instead just clung to his legs and stunk up the entire neighborhood. With yet another sigh, he realized he'd need another shower.

Once he reached the far bank, he made a hole in the turkey carcass and tied the rope to the turkey. A few hours in the South Florida heat would finish thawing the turkey and hopefully the gator would smell the bait. Mortimer tied the other end of the rope to the stake and hammered it into the ground. At least, he tried. Everywhere he attempted to pound the stake, he found solid coral rock. Eventually he gave up and left the stake dangling in a couple inches of topsoil which would be no match for a hungry alligator. Then with another sigh, Mortimer made his way back through the muck, took another shower, dressed, and went to work.

When he got home, he hadn't even shut the door to his car when his wife screeched "it's still there!"

Mortimer didn't have to ask what "it" was.

By now, the alligator had emerged from pool and made itself comfortable on the chaise lounge.

In frustration, Mortimer muttered, "dammit, you're still here." He hadn't even realized he'd said it out loud.

"Yeah, buddy," the gator answered, "I like it here, man. It's, like, a nice pool you got here. Could use some fish, though."

"Wait... you can talk?"

"Sure."

At his age, Mortimer didn't take any drugs aside from the ones his doctor gave him for his angina, so he knew he couldn't be hallucinating. This meant that yes, this alligator really could talk.

"If you can talk, what's your name?"

"Wally."

"Wally, like the cartoon?"

"Don't remind me, man. I always thought that show was a drag."

"OK. Maybe you can help me out here, Wally. See, it's my wife. She's kinda freaked out about you hanging out back here. You know how it is. When she's freaked out, she makes my life miserable."

"Oh yeah. I get it, man. My old lady can nag like you would not believe."

"So, what do you say you go hang out somewhere else?"

"That'd be a bummer, man. I like it here."

"I even put a nice turkey over there on the other side of the canal for you."

"Far out, man. Like, I saw that. But I just hit the Waffle House, so I'm not really hungry right now. But that was pretty cool of you, man."

Mortimer thought.

"Look, maybe we can come to an arrangement? A deal, so to speak. I hate to be rude but if you don't leave my marriage is going to get rather turbulent. I'm too old to sleep on the couch, Wally. My back is a mess when I wake up!"

"I get it, man. It's a shame, though. You seem to be a nice cat. Most people would have called the cops by now. Either that or called some wanna-be Florida Man who would try to wrestle me in hopes of getting on TV. You wanna talk about a bad back! But you didn't resort to violence, man. I can dig that. And I meant that bit about the pool, man. That was from the heart. You have the cleanest pool around."

"So you'll help me?"

"Lemme float this idea, man. See if you can dig this. I'll leave, and every once in a while when I want a swim, I'll come back, but only after dark when your wife can't see me. She doesn't have to know. You can come out and have a martini or whatever and we can hang out and chill. Maybe have a couple cigars."

"That sounds great. But I need to ask one other thing. You can't eat anything in the yard. Or anyone, either."

"Oh, don't worry about that, man. People taste horrible. Like rancid pork. Except babies. They're tender and juicy. But I get it, man. No eating in the yard."

"Thanks, my wife will be grateful."

"Cool, man. Well, I'll head back to The Everglades now, but I'll be around. If you hear me in the pool one night, bring the martinis and the stogies, maybe put on some Creedence, and we'll have a little party."

With that, Wally crawled off the chaise lounge, through the yard, and back out into the canal. Mortimer signed and went to bed, unsure if he'd somehow imagined the entire episode or not. He'd pick up a couple martini glasses tomorrow just in case.