Mr. Tiger the Talking Alligator


In a world where brands of formula and diapers are put above a circumcision, doctor appointments, and conversations concerning the well-being of a child is another world that melts the head-slamming-into-a-wall stress. That is a world I prefer to find myself more often than not. I may be more likely to face zombies (which I did last night, alone, in an abandon building BUT I LIVED! Armed only with a broom, a mop, and a shovel. I’m so badass,) but I am less likely to pull my hair out in large clumps while slamming my head into various hard objects while spouting random profanities.

Just two nights ago I found myself back in that world of creative imagination. I was with….someone, I don’t know who, and we were driving in the middle of nowhere, trying to make our way to the beach. We changed our minds without even realizing it and instead chose to spend our day in one of the lovely alligator filled swamps. This swamp was different though, there were couches! “No need to lug your lounging equipment out, moms and dads, we provide them for you. Use those arms for carrying your small children and food instead.” I made myself comfortable on one of the couches when I realized I just stepped over a seven foot long alligator to get to it. My reaction was pure terror as I screamed while my companion stood beside the alligator as though it were a harmless kitten. I ran out of screaming energy and simply sat on the couch curled up in a ball frozen silence. The alligator then propped itself on his hind legs, looked around, and saw me on the couch. He looked almost as terrified as I felt. With his front claw he slowly brought it closer to my hand as though to pet me. He touched my hand ever so slightly causing me to find my voice again and scream; this scared the alligator causing him to scream too and fall down on his back. Again, my companion simply watching as though we were a zoo or museum exhibit. The alligator stood back up, stretched out his claw once again, and said in an Australian accent, “It’s alright, mate. I’m Mr. Tiger. I shant hurt you. I just want to be your friend.” I think passing out/fainting in dreams causes one to wake up in the real life. Before I woke up I remember thinking, “Thank goodness, I finally slept long enough to hit REM sleep. Thank you, Mr. Tiger.”


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