You Have Meredith To Thank For This One

So, on the heels of my last blog post Meredith Quarrelitia Jollay, my fabulous ex-girlfriend, brought this fun little story to my attention. Check it out:

OLDSMAR, Florida — A Florida woman found an 8-foot long alligator prowling in her kitchen late Monday night, authorities said. Sandra Frosti, 69, said the alligator must have pushed through the screen door on the back porch and then walked through an open sliding glass door at her home in Oldsmar, just north of Tampa. The alligator apparently then strolled through the living room, down a hall and into the kitchen.

A trapper removed the alligator, which was cut by a plate that was knocked to the ground during the chaos. But no one inside the house was injured. (FOX News Online).

I can only assume Meredith was at work googling "alligators" and "pop tarts" and accidentally combined the two. Regardless, something strange is DEFINITELY afoot. I've got deer and zebras trying to kill me in Atlanta, THERE MIGHT BE LIONS IN MY BATHTUB, and this lady has an 8ft reptile perusing her pantry? Are you kidding me?

First of all: lets face it - the plate didn't just get "knocked to the ground." Sandra definitely broke it over that alligator's head; of that I am confident. She's scrappy....and old - a winning combination. That having been said: this story also indicates an alligator trapper somehow became involved too which, to me, indicates great presence of mind on the part of wily ol' Sandra.

I doubt I'd have the presence of mind to thumb the yellow pages for "alligator trapper" while an 8ft specimen makes free with my Fruit Loops. For roaches - sure, I'd immediately think "ok well - lets call Chemical Technologies. They'll send Clifford out to spray and he'll stay for a beer and watch some football on the couch like usual. No big deal."

Key difference: that roach isn't likely to eat my refridgerator.

The only way I'd get Clifford in there with an alligator is if he thought the beer in the fridge was in real danger. Otherwise - I promise you'd find us both standing in the front yard in our boxers. I dont know what it is with me and life-threatening situations, but somehow I nearly always end up standing around afterwards with no pants on.

Even speaking as an Outdoorsman I'm not really sure what I'd do in this situation. It definitely wouldn't involve the telephone up until the point where I made the "Uncle Buster, can you help me?" call; and normally that call doesn't get made until there is real potential for a Department of Fish & Wildlife violation.

THAT call is normally followed by the gradual accumulation of burly steel workers and crane-trucks at my location. For some reason Uncle Buster accesses crane-trucks like you or I use duct tape. He has an overly-elaborate way to fix nearly anything using three (3) steel workers, two (2) cherry pickers, and a megaphone. It works, but someone nearly always gets hurt.

Uncle Buster aside; the best way for you to know if there has ever been an 8ft alligator in my kitchen is to walk inside and look up. If there is a me-shaped hole in the kitchen ceiling, then yes, there was an alligator in the kitchen.

While you're in there: see if you can find my pants.