Toilet Gator – Chapter 42

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“Man, this is going to be so amazing, Skippy.”

Buford sat in a cheap, musty room at the No-Tell Motel. Various stains of indeterminate origin were spread all over the walls, floors and bedspread. The overall decor was very disgusting, but Buford was willing to put up with it for fifty bucks a night.

“We’re gonna have to start pinching pennies now that Daddy is no longer subsidizing the lifestyle we’ve grown accustomed to, Skippy.”

Buford tapped the microphone attached to his headset. “Is this thing on? Skippy? Can you hear me.”

A few seconds passed before a low, guttural response poured into Buford’s headset. “Raarga, raarga.”

“That’s better, young man,” Buford said. “You better mind your manners and speak when spoken to, you understand?”

“Raarga.”

“Get your butt to the No-Tell Motel,” Buford said. “It’s going to be our home away from home until I can either get myself back into Daddy’s good graces or figure out a way to strike out on my own and become a wealthy, independent man.”

“Raarga? Raarga, raarga.”

“What?” Buford said. “Screw you and the horse you rode in on. I could too make it in the real world if I wanted to.”

“Raarga.”

“I’m not in the mood for your shit, Skip,” Buford said. “Just get over here.”

Buford stared at a series of computer screens. He’d managed to sneak into his room at his father’s mini-mansion and swipe all the computer equipment he could. Thus, his room at the motel was filled with all kinds of high-tech gear.

The high tech hayseed punched one button on his keyboard and boom! Nudey pictures filled every screen in the room.

“At last!” Buford said. “I’ve finally figured out how to hack every porno site on the web with the stroke of a button! ginormobutts.com! Asstasticfantasies.com! boobstravaganza.net! It’s mine! All mine!”

Buford wrang his hands as he bursted out into a fit of maniacal laughter. “Muah ha ha ha ha ha!”

Boom! A loud commotion broke out in the bathroom. The toilet exploded, as did the pipe underneath. Water sprayed out onto the rug as an enormous, twelve-foot long angry alligator waddled into room and emitted a loud, menacing, “ROAR!”

Buford stood up and put his hands on his hips in the style of a disappointed parent. “Damn it! Skipford J. Dufresne! Look at the mess you done made!”

The alligator lowered his head in shame. “Raarga.”

“You’re damn right, ‘raarga!” Buford said. “I put on a deposit down on this room. You think I’m gonna get that money back now?”

Skippy shook his scaly head back and forth. “Raarga.”

“And where am I supposed to shit now?” Buford asked. “Next time use the front door like a normal person!”

Skippy waddled over to the bed and climbed on top. The box spring crunched and dropped under his massive weight. Half of his gargantuan reptile body was still on the floor.

Buford sighed and climbed into bed next to his buddy. “Move over, ya big lummox!”

“Raarga,” Skippy said as he attempted to make some room. Alas, the effort was in vain, for he was one big ass prehistoric reptile.

Buford barely even fit on the bed and he even had to keep one leg firmly planted on the floor. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Skippy.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Buford said. “I have been under a lot of stress but so have you. Hell, you’re the one who did all the dirty work.”

“Raarga.”

Buford tapped a microchip that had been implanted into Skippy’s ear hole. “This thing been working ok?”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“You can still hear me when you’re out and about?” Buford asked.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“That’s good,” Buford said.

The unlikely duo lied there in silence for awhile until Buford piped up again. “Skippy?”

“Raarga?”

“I’ve been having second thoughts,” Buford said.

“Raarga!” Skippy said. “Raarga raarga, raarga raarga!”

“What do you mean, ‘You always knew I’d pussy out?” Buford asked.

“Raarga, raarga!” Skippy shouted.

“Them’s fighting words, Skipford!” Buford shouted. “I have half a mind to wash your mouth out with soap!”

Skippy belted out another loud roar.

“Shh,” Buford said. “Come on now, the neighbors might hear you. Roll on over.”

“Raarga.”

“Go on.”

The box spring creaked as Skippy shifted to his side. Buford rolled over on his side and draped his arm over the mega lizard’s big belly. Alligator and man then proceeded to lie there for awhile, enjoying the peace and quiet.

“I’m gonna sing you your special song,” Buford said.

“Raarga,” Skippy replied.

“No,” Buford said. “I know you’re not a kid anymore but we all get upset and need to be calmed down now and again.”

Skippy closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling as Buford stroked his hand up and down the alligator’s scaly tummy. “Stank Daddy in the house, gonna smack a bitch…”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Gonna bust off a switch and smack a bitch,” Buford sang.

Skippy looked as though he’d drifted off into a feeling of sheer ecstasy.

“Get in my way and you’ll get a stitch,” Buford sang. “Stank Daddy in the house, gonna smack a bitch…”

Buford patted the alligator’s head. “That better?”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Good,” Buford said. “Now maybe you’ll hear me out.”

“Raarga.”
Buford kissed Skippy’s scaly head, the wiped the slimy residue from his lips.

“Look,” Buford said. “Last night was a lot of fun. Lord knows it was a long time coming, what with all the planning that went into it. But we pulled it off without a hitch and now I’m thinking we ought to quit while we’re ahead.”

“Raarga!” Skippy shouted.

“Come on, Skippy,” Buford said. “Every good poker player will tell you that you got to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em. Just like that song by the immortal legend, Kenny Rogers, who was a triple threat when it came to signing, gambling, and mass chicken production.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Just think about any criminal that ever got caught,” Buford said. “They always get brought down whenever they get too greedy. It’s time to step away from the table while we still got a pocket full of chips.”

“Raarga!” Skippy said.

“I know,” Buford said. “My personal growth and development was stunted by three terrible people. And those people got what was coming to them last night. But you know what, Skip?”

“Raarga?” Skippy asked.

“I always thought that when I turned you loose on my enemies, I’d feel a lot better,” Buford said. “But I don’t. If anything, I feel worse.”

“Raarga?” Skippy asked.

“Yes,” Buford replied. “Much worse. I’ve come to realize that humans are just imperfect. They do dumb things without realizing how it will mess a fella up. But as imperfect as life is, all life is important and well…I shouldn’t have asked you to eat all those people for me. That’s my bad and I’ll accept it.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“I know you had a good time doing it,” Buford said. “You’re a damn alligator. Crunching living things between your jaws is what you were built for. I just think it’s time we put you back on your all goat diet.”

Skippy sprang off the bed and stared at his companion. “Raarga!”

Burford was on his feet now. “Oh come on! It won’t be so bad! I can even feed your more goats now because I found a guy who can provide me with cheap, discount goats.”

“Raarga!” Skippy said.

“That’s right,” Buford said. “I’ve got a goat guy.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“What do you mean, you’ll never go back to goats?” Skippy asked.

“Raarga!” Skippy shouted.

“Now that you’ve developed a taste for human flesh you’ll never go back?!” Buford asked.

Skippy waddled toward the bathroom. “Raarga!”

“You can’t mean that, Skippy!” Buford shouted. “Come on. I know it’s hard but maybe we can come up with a program to get you off of human meat.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“I’m a pussy for living in this motel?” Buford asked.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“If I won’t stand up to Momma and Daddy you will?!” Buford asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Buford stood outside the bathroom door as his massive pet disappeared into the bathroom.

“Skippy!” Buford shouted. “You get back here this instant!”

“Raarga!” Skippy shouted.

“Skipford J. Dufresne!” Buford said. “You will not lay a single scaly hand on Momma and Daddy, do you hear me?”

No response.

“You get back in here and go to bed and sleep this off,” Buford said. “Maybe you’ll come to your senses in the morning.”

More silence.

Ever so timidly, Buford slowly stepped into the bathroom. The toilet was shattered to pieces. Water chugged out of the broken pipe. Even worse, the gator was gone.

“Lord have mercy,” Buford said. “I’ve created a monster.”

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