Yeah, I'm even worried about the geese. - 06.27.03 - 8:43 am
Look!

On the subject of dreams....

(Don't worry. This is not another dream entry; just an introduction that I think will fit well.)

I've been having this reoccurring dream for the past several years where I am fighting off alligators that are trying to hurt one or more of my animals. They are usually in the lake behind my house and there are many of them.

Usually, they're after Howie.

We've lived in this house for almost fifteen years and not once has there ever been an alligator in the lake. Yet, because these dreams are so vivid and so fucking scary, I still jump a little if I see a large turtle head in the distance or a particularly reptilian stick.

This morning, just after 7, my mom comes into my room and says, "There's an alligator in the lake."

I believe my exact words were "Oh, shit" and I almost dislocated my knee falling out of bed.

We go out to the fence where the swarm of geese are chilling out and my mom points to a head in the water. Yeah, it's a fucking alligator. A couple feet in length and just sitting there about a yard from the bank.

We're staring at it, the geese are staring at it, the birds are staring at it, it's staring at us. I say, "I have nightmares about this" and shudder.

Then my mom says, "When I cam out here this morning, I had just thrown one handful of feed in the water when he showed up. He stopped about a foot away from me and just sat there, waiting."

This is so far from good, the word 'bad' won't even do it justice.

Ahem. Rant.

In Florida, alligators can be and are killed if they're A) over a certain length or B) friendly.

The length thing bothers me. Instead of thinking "Scary Fucking Killing Machine" when you hear about a twelve-foot alligator, consider how old that thing has to be. Shit, your grandmama was still a twinkle in her father's eye when that alligator hatched.

OK, so maybe it takes a special type of person to be amazed by that, but whatever.

Anyway. Alligators can be killed after they reach a certain length because then they become more of a threat. It doesn't matter if the creature is still petrified of humans. If it can take down a full-grown man, it gets a bullet in the brain. They say "Safety first," I say "They were here first. Survival of the fucking fittest, bitch."

But the second reason. Oh, man....

Just how does a reptile with a brain the size of a walnut become friendly, you ask?

Well.

Because stupid fucking assholes not fit to be at the top of the food chain feed them and the alligators begin to equate humans with easy food.

That kinda sounds wrong. Oh, well.

Of all the dumb fucks I hate in this world, people who feed wild alligators are at the top of the list. Yeah, you think it's fucking cool to throw out bologna sandwich scraps to the alligator hanging out by your campsite. How fucking cool will it be, you goddamn cum stain, when that very same alligator loses all fear of humans and takes off a kid's arm? ALLIGATORS ARE SCARED OF PEOPLE. All wild animals are and that's how it fucking SHOULD be. Only when they lose this fear do they become a real threat. And that's when they have to be shot.

I don't fucking get it. I mean, I can understand feeding pigeons in the park or throwing out peanuts for the squirrel that hangs out at your office, but ALLIGATORS? What part of SCARY FUCKING CARNIVOROUS REPTILE makes you want to feed it? Jesus.

Anyway, I digress. Kind of.

So, yeah. This alligator has been fed by some shithead(s) who should have been a blowjob and it's not scared of us. At all.

Oh, it gets better.

As I was watching this creature and sizing it up to make sure it wasn't a threat to my ducklings, we hear a bird screech and then a splash. A couple seconds later, another goddamn alligator comes out of some brush on the bank.

Yeah, there's two. Two fucking alligators after fifteen years of exactly zero. Which led my mom and I to suspect that maybe some shit-for-brains had them as pets and let them go in a storm sewer.

Ranting about THOSE people will make my head explode and I'm not really in the mood to clean up my fucking brains from the monitor. Cuz, you know, that's what I'd have to do. With no head. And, um, shut up. I fell asleep at 6 this morning. YOU try to write shit down like this. I'm also sneezing a lot. Yeah.

Anyway, this one is even smaller than the first. And just as tame. My mom will be speaking with the wildlife experts today to find out if any of them can relocate the alligators to a place where they can learn how to fear people again. If we call anyone else, the alligators will be destroyed and I'm sorry if this makes me a fucked-up person, but I don't want them to die. I also don't want them in the lake. Which is surrounded by houses. Occupied by people.

Yet, despite my wish to see them live, I have named the big one Purse and the little one Shoe cuz that is what they will be if they lay one fucking claw on my fowl.

Here's a crappy, blown-up picture of Purse.

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