The Alligator Solution

My family's solution to an unexpected visitor. Writer's Cramp 07-03-25.

The Alligator Solution

Once, I wrestled three 20 foot alligators. It was a long and tough fight that went on for hours but, through my herculean strength and perseverance, I defeated all 3 thereby saving a gaggle of nuns and a school bus full of children. I only mention this because for a guy like me, that wrestled four 25 foot alligators, a single alligator just isn’t challenging.

Let me tell you about the time we woke up after a raucous storm and found a 35 foot gator sloshing around in the back yard.

Before we get started you’ll need to understand the family.

My wife is a 65 year old scientist with a string of inventions and awards that boggle the mind. Our son is 10 and we haven’t yet found the limits to his Steven Hawking brain. His teachers tell me I never will. Me? I'm an incredibly handsome 60 year old who saves nuns and children by single-handedly subduing 40 foot alligators.

The rain and thunder had just stopped. Harry, our kid, saw the gator first.

“Dad, look! There’s a baby 6 foot gator in the backyard, let’s see you wrestle it!”.
My wife, Henrietta, “Yea honey, go give the little guy some what-fer.”.
“Yeah, well, I would but, uh, wouldn’t want to hurt it.”.
Harry immediately turned to Mom, “What should we do?”.

That begins a Henrietta/Harry mind meld.

Henrietta asks, “What’s the goal here Harry?”.
“Send it home which is probably the swamp down past Critter Field.”.
“How's the gully?
“To the top.”.
“What do alligators like to eat?”.
“This one probably likes fish and small animals.”
“I’ll thaw out a chicken. Dad can lure the poor guy home.”.
“This'll be fun. Dad, you have to promise not to hurt him!”.
Discussion ends.

In a single motion, they turn and head for the garage.

So, the sun is barely up, my tennis shoes are soaked, and I’m stumbling around the backyard trying to lure an alligator across the road with half a chicken. Of course, had it been a whole chicken, and alive, it would have happily crossed the road.

My gator and I figured out a routine quickly, it went like this: Gator gets close, I throw chicken and run, gator eats chicken, I yell, Henrietta brings more chicken. Gator gets close…

After almost an hour of practicing the gator ballet, Henrietta and Harry came out of the garage pulling a catapult. It was an amazing bit of craftsmanship which was engineered from my wheelbarrow, Harry's basketball stand, my golf clubs and some 4th of July fireworks.

See, you have to understand the family.

By now, Gator and I have perfected our dance. It was a beautiful thing, Gator sashays toward me, I stumble back, she quick-steps forward, I extend my feet and drop to my butt, Gator sashays to the left, I roll to the right, Gator sashays right, I jump to my feet.

While we're dancing, Harry and Henrietta are arguing about where to put the catapult. The discussion involved the particular aerodynamic properties of 6 foot alligators, distance, wind, and arc of the flight.

They made a decision and after a few minutes of “To the left!”, “Toward me!”, “Too far!”, the catapult is ready.

Gator and I stopped dancing, both of us are mesmerized by the Henrietta & Harry show.

Henrietta threw chicken parts into the wheelbarrow/catapult bucket and, after the gator climbed in, Harry lit the fuse. The rocket went off, Gator was catapulted over the house, across the road into the gully that leads to the swamp where the alligator lives.

Henrietta was beaming with pride, mostly for Harry.

Harry looked at me, “Dad, uh, you know, don’t you think, well, nobody can wrestle 3 alligators, that's just crazy.”.


Word count: 654