The Alligator on the Workbench by Rusty C Arquette
When I was a child
between the ages of one and five
we lived in a big old cracker style house
wood frame, pine floors, tin roof
something that was hot in the summer
and cold in the winter
and the wind blew through it
like it wasnt there
there was an out-building,
we laughingly called a garage,
which was a gray, weathered structure
made of split cypress planking
it had a rusty tin roof and a dirt floor
it had no doors, open to the weather
and it leaned to one side
looking as if it would slowly fall over
if given a good shove
inside, along the sidewalls,
were bales of hay, a tractor tire,
rolls of fence wire, bags of feed,
tools of one sort or another
a big sickle bar lawn mower,
and more junk than you
could shake a stick at
across the closed end
was a long, wide shelf made
of 2x10 planking
a distinct sag at its center
repeatedly soaked
with oil, gas, and paint
it was grimy and stained
the color of wet earth
dad called it a workbench
but I never saw anyone work on it
dad bought my Uncle Eds
hand me down Cadillac for a song
it was either a 48 or 49 vintage
a strange metallic green color
the trunk sloped down in back
to its peeling chrome bumper
it was a large vehicle
like some gigantic Dung Beetle
it occupied the major area
of the grungy old garage
one night mom and dad
had been out to a party
and arrived home around 9:30
with two sleepy kids in the car
me, a tired four year old
and my brother Jon,
just a year old ball of pink
dad made the usual turn
into our marl driveway
and pulled the big green boat
inside the cramped confines
of our ramshackle garage
mom called for me to wake up
I was drooling on the back seat
but I responded sleepily
and got to my feet
holding onto the cord across
the back of the front seat
mom wrapped Jon in his blanket
for the trek to the house
in the inky darkness of
a moonless Florida night
mom was about to open her door
dad put his hand on her arm
and said, wait, Jane!
mom asked, what?
dad replied quietly, look
nodding toward the workbench
which was lit up in our headlights
mom gasped, oh my gawd!
I looked over the backseat,
but I couldnt see anything
mom asked, how did it get up there?
climbed up using the hay bales
as stairs, it looks like, he replied
something dark moved on the bench
long, dark, and reptilian in appearance
why would the stupid thing be up there,
high and dry, on a workbench
in our garage? puzzled my mom
its been dry, offered dad,
it may be running the ditches
looking for food
we were looking at an alligator
[el lagarto as the Spanish dubbed it
meaning, the lizard,
some would argue
a bit of an understatement]
a six footer from the looks of it
not at all an uncommon sight
here in the Everglades state,
where Florida is dotted with lakes,
ponds, drainage canals, and swamps
but not something youd expect
to see four feet off the ground
lying on your workbench
during dry months
or during the spring
when its mating season
the big lizards will move from
pond to pond via ditches and canals
sometimes ending up paddling
about someones swimming pool
not just a nuisance or a casual pest,
but a dangerous animal
with a mouth full of teeth
and the ability to sprint faster
than a person can run
nothing we natives take lightly
as it turned out,
this gator was attracted
by one of our cats and her liter
she had nested behind
the tractor tire on the sidewall
the mewing and their scent
had lured it in search of an easy meal
it couldnt reach the cat and her brood
so it was waiting for it to come out
it just picked a rather strange
place to wait
dad hurried us into the house
I was put to bed, but I couldnt sleep
all the activity over the intruder
had left me wide awake and listening
dad called the sheriffs office
to see what to do about our friend
the sheriff knew my dad
and told him it was against the law
to kill or harass one of these critters,
but if it was him, with two kids around,
hed shoot the damn thing!
dad thought about it,
but wasnt sure he wanted someone
turning him in for plugging a gator
the second suggestion
was to call Texas Jim to remove it
this was a local character
who had set up an attraction
about 20 miles north of us
who called his roadside setup,
Texas Jims Reptile Ranch
[why he wasnt Florida Jim
I guess well never know?]
where he collected an assortment
of snakes, gators, turtles, and more
housed in homemade cages and pens
he had a state permit
which allowed him to catch and release,
or if too dangerous, kill alligators
the endeavor paid for itself
he sold the meat from the tails
to local restaurants and the skins
to leather shops and craftsmen
and any critters he liked
ended up an exhibition
at the Reptile Ranch
dad gave him a call
it was close to 10:00 pm,
but Jim always answered the phone
ready to go anytime, anywhere,
to pick up a few extra bucks
[he also charged you $20 or more
to cart the troublesome ones away
]
Jim knew my old man,
it was a small community in 54
dad told him about the cats in the garage
he asked, you got small kids there, dont ya?
my dad told him yes, two
chances are he smells them too
we need to get rid of him, pronto!
he said keep an eye on him till he got there
in 45 minutes he was at the house
in the house we heard the racket
mom stood at the screen door
in the kitchen and repeated,
oh my gawwwwwd!
but it wasnt till later that dad
sat at the kitchen table
and told her what had gone on
he had returned to the house
and dug out his hunting light
it took it out to the garage
and shone it on the bench
the gator was still there, snoozing
Jim told him to back the car out
and leave the headlights on
Jim got a rope from his truck
a big loop tied in one end
he walked slowly up to the bench
this isnt going to be pretty, he spat,
watch all your toes and fingers, Les
he carefully slipped the noose
over the gators snout and yanked
usually Jim jumped on a gators back,
pinning it down once he had a rope on it,
on the shelf it wasnt possible
the alligator came alive
it jumped forward trying to escape
knocking bottles and cans from the bench
Jim held on waiting for its next move
it started swinging its tail
paint cans popped open
and their content splattered the area
along with turpentine, oil,
and a number of other sticky products
the gator slipped
its right fore foot missed the bench
and it roll off the edge
as soon as it hit the dirt
it began to spin and the dust flew
floating thick
in the beams of the headlights
dad grabbed the rope with Jim
when the gator stopped spinning
Jim jumped, straddling its back
just behind its head
a few more loops
secured the animals mouth
its legs were pulled back,
both front and rear,
and it was hog-tied
leaving only the tail as a threat
watch that tail Les, choked Jim,
hell give ya a good shot if ya letem!
awkwardly, the two dragged the reptile
out to Texas Jims truck
dropped the tailgate
hoisted the squirming animal up
and wrestled him into the bed
the job complete
dad invited Jim to have a drink
before he headed home
mom stopped them on the porch
and told them to stay out there
shed bring them their drinks
they both laughed
they were covered in dirt,
grease, oil, and the other stuff
the gator had tossed around
including four shades
of house paint
Jim decided to keep the gator
instead of turning him loose
out in the wilds
he kept him at his Ranch
so at least a couple times
a year wed all pile in the car
and drive up to see our gator
Jim had names for all his displays
our gator was no different
he was in a pen with a pond in it
and on the fence was a sign
Jim had jokingly named the gator
Lester after my old man
my dad acted a bit miffed about it,
but it didnt stop him from
taking all our house guests
up to Sarasota to see the beast
in a turn of events
that reflects how odd
life can truly be
my dad died back in 1969
and Texas Jims Reptile Ranch
was sold, torn down,
and all the animals released
dads gone,
but I think Lester,
is still alive and grinning
in some green swamp somewhere
out east of town
our alligator on the workbench
05/25/2004 Author's Note: Just one of the things that could happen to you in 1950's Florida...never a dull moment!
Posted on 05/25/2004 Copyright © 2024 Rusty C Arquette
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Maureen Glaude on 05/25/04 at 03:13 PM boy, and I thought digging around for stuff in the basement here creeped me out! this is quite a story. I must show my brother, who visits FLorida to see his in-laws often. |
Posted by Maureen Glaude on 05/25/04 at 03:14 PM I realize your alligator was in the garage, not the basement, but it made me think of our workbench area in the basement that always creeps me out. |
Posted by Anne Engelen on 05/26/04 at 06:37 PM another captivating story Rc! Most enjoyable as always. |
Posted by Charles E Minshall on 05/28/04 at 02:17 AM Funtastic aligator TAIL Rusty...Charlie |
|