Stories from “Old Florida”
Goochie Goo
Apparently, Dad thought the baby alligator was cute and cuddly in a way most women think of new born babies. I’ve never thought infants were cute, thinking most all of them look the same; kind of like miniature Winston Churchill’s. But there Dad was, bent over the dining room table looking at the small 12 to 14 inch gator I had just brought in, and commenting on how cute it was.
I had been bass fishing on Bear Lake after school that day, and was snaking a jelly worm through a patch of lily pads, when I noticed the small gator make a quick move towards the artificial offering. The gator latched onto the worm’s tail, and hung on as I lifted the rod and dropped her in the canoe I was standing in. It crawled around the floor of the canoe as I tried to fish, but I began to worry about my toes since I was barefoot.
I sat down and looked towards the sky and deduced that Dad should be home from his construction job by now, and would probably be napping on the couch. I dragged the canoe back to the house and only griped to myself when I had to lift the craft across the paved road, before I could drag it the remaining distance to its backyard home.
I carefully pinned the small dinosaur like creature behind the head with the butt of my spinning rod, and grabbed him securely behind his head before heading for the back door. Sure enough, Dad was just coming out of his after-work slumber, and as usual, was interested in what I was up to, especially since Bear Lake was likely to be involved.
“Look what I have Dad. It’s a baby gator.” “Oh my,” Dad said. I explained how I caught it, and laid it on the dining room table where Dad and I could view the reptilian more easily, and soon Dad was bent over the monster baby, and exclaiming how cute it was. Dad was about to gently give the small beast a love tap under its chin, all the while saying sweet nothings, like goochie goo. I have to admit, the baby gator did not look very threatening, but as adults their jaws can slam shut with several thousand pounds of force per square inch, and since they have to tear their food apart, they possess up to 80 sharpened daggers for teeth. But none of this was going through Dad’s mind as he extended his friendly index finger toward the baby monster.
It all went bad in an instant. The baby monster clamped onto the end of Dad’s finger and Dad could not shake it off. Blood was dripping on the kitchen table, and in the next instant Dad had swung his arm behind his head, alligator fully extended behind Dad’s index finger, and still firmly attached. Blood spatters had been created and the scene would have made for some great training for future forensic science types. In the next instant, Dad threw his arm forward, as if pitching a fastball. More blood balls now sprayed in the opposite direction and soon the baby monster was sailing toward the kitchen cabinets at a rate that would have made Nolan Ryan proud. Baby monster hit the cabinets, fell to the floor, and did not move.
Dad on the other hand, was quite animated. The small razors of teeth had shredded the pad of Dad’s index finger, and Dad was holding his dripping digit in obvious pain.
“That stupid $!!! $$@!! bit the **!! out of me.” Dad could have easily won the part in “The Christmas Story”, at least the part when Ralphie’s dad is fixing the furnace.
The baby gator was dazed, and out of it. It took at least a half hour for it to regain its capabilities.
After Dad had downed a beer to calm himself, bandaged his damaged finger, and cleaned the blood spatters, he said,” Son, why don’t you get that d#?! alligator out of here.”
“Ok Dad,” I said, and I laughed all the way back to Bear Lake where I released the cute little baby gator.