Toilet Gator – Chapter 64

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“Arrrgh!”

Little Buford was used to all sorts of bizarre sounds coming from his Momma’s bedroom. This one was louder and angrier than usual, but that didn’t stop Buford from concentrating on his tenth hour of Karate Fighter 7 of the day.

A shirtless, portly man with a dirty beard stumbled out Roxy’s bedroom with blood gushing from his arm. He jumped about the room as he pulled his pants on.

“Who the hell keeps an alligator in the house?” the man shouted. “Honestly!”

Roxy stepped out of the bedroom, clad in leather lingerie with a leather hat on her head and a riding crop in her hand. “I’m sorry! Buford!”

Buford paused the game. “What Momma?”

“I thought I told you to keep that monster chained up in the yard!” Momma said.

Fear washed over the little boy as he realized the mistake he made. Skippy waddled out into the sitting room with a few drips of blood trickling from his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Momma!” Buford said. “I plumb forgot.”

“I’m outta here,” the random man said.

“You still owe me a hundred for the uh…” Roxy looked at Buford and censored herself. “Additional activities.”

“A hundred?” the man asked. “You know much I’m gonna have to shell out when I go to the emergency room to get shots for this bullshit? You know how much money I’m going to lose by taking a day off of work? I’m never going to patronize your vagina ever again, Roxy!”

“Aw come on,” Roxy said. “It was a freak accident.”

“I’ll be taking my business elsewhere!” the random man said as he stormed out of the trailer.

Buford attached a leash to a collar around the gator’s neck and yanked on it. “You’ve been a bad boy, Skippy!”

Skippy hanged his head low. “Raarga.”

“Come on,” Buford said. “You’re gonna sit out in the yard and think about what you’ve done.”

Roxy looked at the gator and sneered. She grabbed the leash out of the boy’s hand.

“Momma?” Buford asked.

“This thing has got to go, Buford,” Roxy said.

“But he didn’t mean to…”

“Oh yes he did,” Roxy said as she dragged the gator into the bathroom.

“Momma!” Buford cried. “Don’t hurt him! Skippy’s my best friend in the whole wide world!”

“Then I feel sorry for you, Buford,” Roxy said. “I really do. But that’s the forth customer this little shit has bitten in a week and Momma isn’t about to let her career suffer because of your pitiful social life.”

“Raarga!” Skippy struggled as Roxy picked him up. He snapped at Roxy, but she managed to avoid his jaws long enough to hurl him into the toilet.

“What are you doing?!” Buford cried.

“What I should have done a long time ago!” Roxy replied. She pulled off a high heel shoe and whacked little Skippy in the head repeatedly, over and over again until his tiny frame was stuck firmly in the toilet.

Buford felt sick as he saw his mother’s hand reach for the flusher. “No Momma!”

“You’ll thank me for this one day, son,” Momma said. “You aren’t gonna be right in the head if you spend all your time with this scaly little prick.”

Mother and son battled it out over the flush handle, the woman continuing to reach for it and the boy continuing to swat her hand away.

“I love him, Momma!” Buford shouted.

“It’s either him or us, baby!” Roxy said. “Alligators are nothing but man eating machines. Sure, he’s cute now but I swear, one day he’ll devour us whole.”

“He’ll never do that!” Buford said. “Skippy’s a good boy! Tell her, Skippy!”

“Raarga!” Skippy shouted as he wiggled his front flippers, desperately trying to escape from the bowl.

Roxy pushed the boy away and pulled the flush handle. The toilet instantly overflowed and filled the bathroom floor with water.

“Damn it!” Roxy said as she looked around the room. “Where the hell is my plunger?”

The prostitute wagged a finger at her son. “You stay put! I’m going to the neighbor’s to borrow a plunger and don’t you dare help that little varmint escape, do you hear me?”

Buford cried. “I hear you, Momma.”

“I swear, Buford, if that little monster isn’t still in that shitter when I come back I will tan your hide something fierce!”

Roxy left. Buford ignored his mother’s commands and grabbed Skippy’s front legs. He pulled and pulled.

“Come on, Skippy!” Buford said.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“We gotta get you outta here, Skip!” Buford said.

Skippy struggled, splashing water everywhere. Buford pulled and pulled but his pet would not budge.

“Skippy, please!” Buford shouted. “Push with all you got! I can’t live without you!”

A minute later, Roxy returned with a big black toilet plunger. She pushed the boy aside and plopped the rubber business end of the tool squarely on Skippy’s head.

“Raarga!”

“Get down there!” Roxy said as she plunged the gator.

“Momma!” Buford shouted. “Please!”

“Buford,” Roxy said. “I’m sorry you had to figure this out so soon but the world is a rough place and sometimes people gotta make tough decisions. I know you love this little son of a bitch but he has got to go!”

“Raarga, raarga, raarga!” Skippy flailed about wildly as each plunge pushed him lower and lower into the bowl. Finally, Roxy pulled the flush lever and presto! The gator was gone, delivered to the grimy depths of the sewer system below.

Buford sat on the edge of the bath tub, balling his eyes out. “Skippy! Noo! Why, God, why?!”

Roxy set the plunger down and attempted to hug the boy.

“Get away from me!” Buford shouted. “Murderer! You killed my best friend!”

Roxy sighed. “Son, sometimes I think you might need some help, like a counselor or something to help you with your issues.”

Mother and son waited in silence for a moment. “But then I figure it would be way too much work to drive your ass to a counselor and honestly who’s got the money to pay for it so come on, just assume that a counselor would tell you to stop being a creepy little shit and then just follow that advice and stop being a creepy little shit, OK?”

“I hate you,” Buford mumbled.

“Aww now,” Roxy said. “Is that a nice thing to say to your Momma?”

“I wish you were dead,” Buford said.

Roxy teared up. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” Buford shouted. “And I wish I was never born! Go away.”

“Buford,” Roxy said. “Honey, I just…”

“Go away!” Buford screeched.

Roxy abided and left. Buford sat there crying for a half hour before he finally peered down the empty toilet bowl.

“Skippy? Hey, Skippy? You down there?”

Buford sniffed and dried his eyes. “Skippy. I just want you to know I didn’t want Momma to do that and I hope you’re ok. Are you ok?”

The boy sat in silence for awhile until a feint sound echoed its way up the pipe and out of the toilet bowl. “Raarga.”

Buford smiled with elation. “Skippy! You’re alive!”

“Raarga.”

“What’s it like down there?” Buford asked.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Buford said.

“Raarga, raarga,” Skippy replied.

“Oh,” Buford said. “That does sound bad.”

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

“No boy,” Buford said. “You can’t come back up. If you do, Momma will just flush you again.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“What?” Buford asked. “No, you can’t eat Momma.”

“Raarga.”

“Because she’s my Momma! Plus, if you do, I won’t have no one to take care of me and make me macaroni and cheese with cut up hot dog bits.”

“Raarga, raarga,” Skippy said.

Buford smiled. “Yeah, I suppose I can flush some of that down for you once in awhile.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Skippy,” Buford said. “I guess you’ll just have to live down there for awhile. We won’t be able to see each other for now but one day I’ll be a grown man and I’ll be real professional and responsible. I’ll make a lot of money and buy my own place, a great big spread where you’ll be able to roam free and we can be together forever and ever.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“What do you mean you won’t hold your breath?” Buford asked.

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