Thursday, December 18, 2008

My Alligator Problem

As everyone is aware, my lean, super-fit, muscular physique makes me irresistible to all discerning women. Unfortunately, however, it also makes me irresistible to alligators.

While this isn't too much of a problem in the UK, here, in South West Florida, it potentially is. This is because this particular estate is criss-crossed by dozens of drainage canals, most of which have hundreds of hungry alligators in them, all no doubt yearning for the opportunity to taste the gourmet fillet mignon of Manhood that is my body.

Naturally, when I'm over here, I have to take certain precautions to avoid being eaten. Perhaps unsurprisingly, not swimming in the canals heads the list. Not gardening comes a close second. Surveys show that the majority of people who are eaten by alligators hereabouts are mowing their lawn when it happens. Apparently, while they're distracted by the grass cutting, the alligator crawls out of the canal, nips up behind them, and catches them unawares. For this reason, I employ Mexican illegal immigrants to do my gardening. Not only are they cheaper to replace when eaten, but when one sees a discarded sombrero floating in the canal, it's a pretty good indication that an alligator is around, so one can then be on one's guard.

Captain Hook of Peter Pan fame had a similar problem to mine, though he didn't employ Mexican illegal immigrants. Instead, his solution was to feed a clock to the alligator. Thereafter, whenever he heard the clock ticking, he knew that the alligator was in the vicinity and so had time to run away. I would like to be able to do the same. The trouble is, modern clocks are quartz and so don't tick. Also, Hook only had the one alligator to worry about, whereas I've got thousands of the fucking things. And even if I could find a quartz clock that ticked, it would cost me a fortune to feed one to each and every alligator in Charlotte County (and, besides which, there are probably local bylaws prohibiting this very practice).

Perhaps a better solution, therefore, would be to feed them all a Mexican illegal. Then, whenever I hear the words "Ay caramba!", I can be reasonably sure that there's an alligator nearby who's swallowed a Mexican, and so effect my escape.

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