Oh, they just couldnâ€™t wait to e-mail me the story, or blog it and link to me. First across the finish line with an e-mail about the story was Shamrocketship, then came Montana Daveâ€™s e-mail about the story, both of whom were hoping to be the first to send me the story. They were followed by a clutch of sadistic readers, who e-mailed me the story, obviously thinking that a day without loosening olâ€™ Jimboâ€™s bowels is like a day without sunshine. This morning I see that my pal over at Compass Points is blogging the story and asking me about my next trip to Florida.
So whatâ€™s the story?
As you may well have guessed before clicking the link, the story involves an alligator. No, not just your run-of-the-mill story about an alligator strutting his ugly ass down the street or wandering around in a parking lot. This one involves a woman who walked into her kitchen only to be confronted by an eight foot alligator in her kitchen. Thatâ€™s right. In her farookinâ€™ KITCHEN! WTF?
Even as mellow as Florida Peeps claim to be about alligators, this woman was a bit rattled when she called the cops (audio here), particularly when the police operator asked, â€œHow long is it? â€¦ Are you sure it couldn’t be an iguana?â€ A freakinâ€™ iguana?
Video of the capture of this prehistoric monster is here.
If I walked into my kitchen and was confronted with an eight-foot alligator, my intestines would instantly empty and I might well have â€œthe big one.â€ I sure as shit would wind up in therapy. Yo, IT WAS IN THE FAROOKINâ€™ KITCHEN!
You FINKS know damned well that I will be in Florida next month, so you obviously take particular joy in stories like this at this time of the year.