There is a small drainage pond in the back of the building, this is where I found a 3 footer, no big deal, I was not impressed, so I moved to the lake across the street. For all I know, that 3 foot gator that I saw was just a processed salad that floated around the pond in just the right light, I mean gators are brown, green, and yellow, coulda been a turd.
So I crossed the street... in heels.
My next hunt was just me watching the edge of the lake, on the other side, way across the lake a gator would come out and sun every once in a while, so I was just happy seeing him lounging out, scared to get too close but stupid enough to try.
Everyday I would get closer and closer, one day I just stood there, staring in a trance at the lake's reflection, wiping away the blades of grass that brushed against my ankle. For whatever reason I just didn't look down, why it took me so long? I was hell bent on seeing the gator. A sharp sting distracted my eyes and after a double take, I noticed the ants were half way up to my knee, my right foot was embedded in an ant pile. I cursed, I hopped, I jumped, I took off my shoes, and I was in pain, walked back to work in one heel, doing the walk of shame without the one-night-stand, not that I am allergic or was too worried, but it really itched. After all was said and done, I was at my desk with 27 ant bites, and a zip-lock bag of ice. A hell of a story. But I didn't tell the story, Rosa did. She is my smoke buddy, she made sure that the story would be told, and she didn't pee in her pants because I would blog about it. But she laughed her ass off. The lake was now off limits.
Off to the swamp, I love the swamp, I am a Forensic Files fan, Dexter, and any murder mystery, so I go out there and look into the swamp, thinking one day they will interview me because I found a dead body, an arm, a foot, or a person hanging out in the distance, I don't typically speak much, because I look long and hard for something, and one day I will find it. I have my goals in life and priorities.
Sometimes Renee goes with us, she doesn't smoke, she is our tobacco free advertisement, our nicotine patch, bitching and moaning about the smoke, but she is still there, she just moves away from the smoke trail and we look for ways to blow the deadly fumes to her direction, all in fun of course. She has to move often, my inner bitch laughs at this game. It's like playing Frogger with a cigarette and a friend, making her move forward and backwards, side to side until she gets to a safe spot.
This particular day, I was again looking for a crime scene. I got out, went up to the swamp and as I was getting close, a loud splash was just feet away. Oh my god, was it Nessy or the Lake Placid monster. I went to run and find the beast, but was rudely distracted by the two chickens that accompanied me on my quest for being The Crocodile Hunter replacement.
The passenger door to the car was open facing the swamp, Renee forbids us to smoke in the car. Both Renee and Rosa dove in, I am not sure which got in first but Renee's torso was horizontal into the steering wheel area and Rosa was on top with part of her foot out. Somehow they tried to close the door and couldn't because Renee's foot was in the way. From what I saw, it looked like an orgy gone bad. For a moment they reminded me of dogs when they get stuck together, you know the humping thing, then they get stuck and can't seperate, that is what I thought. They tried to budge, but the car only had so much space. They screamed, in fear and in desperation to get into the car. We aren't talking about children, two grown ass woman trying to get into the same seat, they dove in at the same time and were practically stuck in the door way, my poor Yaris was now a low rider, and it had hydraulics, because they bounced and shoved to both get in. I turned and looked and watched the fiasco take place. My face was scrunched into the Rock eyebrow stare, as I tried to figure out exactly what they were running from. They pointed and could barely speak, mostly because they were laughing, I am sure someone peed their pants but neither would fess up.
I went to the area they point and lifted the branch, they screamed some more. I walked into the swamp as much as I could and found nothing. Pacing and staring into the ghetto like Everglades I tried to get one of them to hold up the big branches so I could go in and investigate. They screamed obscene things to me, and asked if I was insured, who would take care of my kids, and assured me that they would not try to save me, some assistants they are.
"It was big, a monster, didn't you hear that thing." They asked.
"Yes, I heard something, but for all you know, squirrels were humping and tree branch fell into the water." They were not cooperating with my investigation. As far as I was concerned, they would not be interviewed when I found a body, they were fired from my taskforce.
The more I got closer, the more they screamed and eventually my time was up, and I was empty handed, completely devestated at not being able to discover exactly what made that sound. I jumped into the car and went back to work with the siamese twins.
Today they found the gator, or a gator, less than a mile away, the police brilliantly handcuffed the damn thing and it made headlines. It looked like it was caught in the middle of an S and M session. But that should not be the only one, so the hunt will continue tomorrow, I will let you know when I find something. Or when I am able to get Renee or Rosa in just the right spot to push them into the swamp and run like hell, there's something to blog about. Watch your backs and don't get too close ladies.
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