Egg shells are supposed to be good for your roses I hear. Since it is just past Easter we have had plenty o’ hard boiled eggs, and hence egg shells. The kids like to do things like leave them in the sink for me to fish out while muttering under my breath. Brian likes to stand in the door way and toss them in the general direction he thinks a rose bush may reside. I finally put a bowl beside the sink and requested they just put the shells in there. It was beginning to look like the Easter bunny went on a homicidal rampage with all the chunks of colored egg shell scattered across the front yard. Like it was a baby chick genocide or something. The Easter Sunday Massacre. Ok, you get the point.
So, as I am prone to do, I got totally distracted from my mission at the moment by the egg shells. I took them and smashed them up and added a little water and went outside to pour them out by the roses. It is pretty dark at this point, it was shortly after 8 pm and I was a little startled when something that I couldn’t see that well went running away from the first rose bush, however, I’m not generally afraid of the lizards or the frogs or whatever. Snakes, however are another story. I hate them and I take no prisoners. Those bastards die first and get identified later. Even God doesn’t like snakes. The point is, though, that I will kill them, I don’t just go running into the house like a pansy ass. I killed a rattle snake with a hockey stick, in fact. So I was a little startled but not scared when something ran out of the rose bush area. I thought it was rather large for a lizard but didn’t think too much about it. I walked across the side walk to give some to the other bushes and that is when I was attacked.
The text I sent to Brian immediately after I was assaulted is probably the best way to describe what just went down.
“I was just attacked by an unknown animal outside and I screamed bloody murder and no one even looked out of their windows and I could have died, but thankfully I didn’t and I still don’t know what it was out there, possibly a small coyote or an alligator or ok, maybe it was an especially fat toad. Whatever, I may never recover from the shock and bring home Taco bell I love you.”
Ok, so the taco bell part wasn’t essential to the story, but I wanted to make sure I got some benefit from my near death experience and so starting the text with my tale of horror was a decent way to hopefully guilt him into bringing me home fast food.
I seriously don’t know what the hell it was outside but it was NOT a lizard. OK, it also wasn’t a coyote or an alligator I don’t think. Although don’t totally rule the alligator out. It was large-ish. Bigger than say my fist. It was also pretty heavy judging by what it sounded like as it hopped or ran or scampered or whatever the hell it did across the mulch. It scared the living hell out of me and yes, I did scream my guts out. I screamed so loudly, in fact that my throat is sore now. It concerns me that this is not the first time I have been startled and screamed like a maniac and no one in the area. has shown any concern.
This is also not the first time I have been viciously attacked by wild life.
Back when I had ambition and ran I would run past several ponds. One in particular I knew housed at least two good sized alligators. One was about 6 feet long. The other was closer to 9 feet. We live on a golf course and that pond is on hole 8 or very near it. A couple of golfers stopped me once on my way past to point him out and remark on his size and one said “what do you think he EATS?”
I said “oh, you know , small dogs, joggers, golfers. Things like that.”
I named him Fat Bastard and he and I had an understanding. He could lay there and bask and all and when I ran past on the sidewalk I would look to see where he was. I would say “later gator” and he would get spooked and go into the water. I figured as long as he was still afraid of me we were cool. I mentioned to Brian once that I would be in for the surprise of my life if someday when I was running and looking for him in the pond but he was actually on the side walk. Then that day came. I was running along- and it was about mid day- and I was looking down towards the pond and I didn’t see him. What DID catch my attention however was movement directly in front of me. When I say directly in front of me I mean like a sidewalk paver away. It was Fat Bastard and he was hauling his fat self right back to his pond. I scared him, he scared me and neither of us will ever forget it. Holy bloody hell. He took off down the little hill and into his pond. I kept running, down the street, around the cul de sac and back out of the area- on my way back past the pond I looked and there he was down in his pond in some sort of drainage tunnel/ pipe thing with just his head sticking out. Ok, seriously? He was hiding? which one of us has skin like armor and really sharp teeth? Cripes. It was about that time I realized I was shaking and I thought maybe it was time to go home. That time I didn’t scream. I actually just stopped dead and watched him run off. My fight or flight instincts are WAY off.
This is already really wordy and I am beginning to suspect that Brian is intentionally ignoring my plea for TBell so I am going to go make something to eat and I will eventually tell about the frog that was living in the drain of my bathroom sink. Also about the time Brian scared me when I was out running and I about had a heart attack. If you are lucky I will talk about my rattle snake murder. Good times down here in Florida.