It Wasn’t My Fault, Honest!

Zack and the Alligator Attack My older brother Mitchel, who was twelve years older than me, was an Eagle Scout, and he was always working on one merit badge or another. He had a collection of things around the house, living and dead. He had over twenty-one snakes in various cages in our backyard, dried rattlesnake skins hanging in his bedroom, and a stuffed baby alligator he’d found dead on one of his hiking trips at camp. He had taken the dead baby alligator to a taxidermy shop to be stuffed so he could exhibit it in his room on the shelf next to his living glass snake. It was called a glass snake because it was clear and white so you could see its insides. Yuck! Anyway, Zack and I admired that stuffed alligator, but we were warned not to go near it or touch it for any reason. Mitchel was constantly reminding us to stay out of his room. You know how little kids are, with me being six and Zack being almost four. Curiosity got the better of us. One day when we knew Mitchel was going to be gone to camp for the day, we decided to sneak into his room to take a look at all those mysterious things hidden there. That baby alligator was calling to us to come and play, so we pulled a chair up to the shelf. I stood up on the chair, and Zack began to clap and yell, “Get the baby! Get the baby!” I was afraid that the stupid thing would come to life and bite my hand off if I touched it because we weren’t supposed to be in Mitchel’s room in the first place. I lost my balance as I was taking the alligator off the shelf, and it fell to the floor with a thump! I was afraid to look down for fear it would be in pieces all over the floor. Zack began clapping again. As I looked down, it was just lying there with its mouth open and teeth snarling at us. I jumped off the chair, and Zack grabbed the stuffed alligator, saying, “Run! Run, Sissy!” We started laughing, and we played a game of tag with the alligator. We ran from Mitchel’s room, through the living room, through the kitchen and dining room, into the screened-in porch, and into Mitchel’s room again, yelling and laughing the whole time. Zack decided to swing the alligator by its tail and hit me with it as we ran, not realizing how delicate the stuffed animal was and that knocking it around could cause damage. Just as we got back to the doorway of Mitchel’s room, Zack gave one more swing of the tail. Just as it hit my back, the tail popped off, and all the white stuffing came flying out its rear end! We stopped dead in our tracks, and as we turned back toward the door, there stood Mitchel with his mouth wide open in disbelief at what he had seen. His prize alligator was lying on the floor with no tail and all its insides scattered all over the bedroom like fluffy white marshmallows.