I’m a crocodile. That’s a hell of a spirit animal to represent, but there it is. If you’re nice to me I’m gentle enough a bird could clean my teeth and gums. I care about family, watching the clutch of eggs until they hatch, and then carrying them around in my mouth until they are old enough to fend for themselves. And don’t think about stealing or hurting one or you’ll find out what a normally gentle, but angry, parent is capable of.
I like the sun, and relaxation. I’m equally fine on land or water. I’ve got a thick skin, but I’d prefer to keep wearing it for myself, as I am not fond of boots or shoes. I only like cobblers if they have fruit on the bottom. I wonder why a shoemaker specializing in repair is called cobbler, and there, now you know even my daydreams are full of random interruptions. I wonder what the attention span of a real crocodile is.
I like meat. I prefer it cooked since I don’t have a crocodile’s immune system in real life. However, if you’re a fried chicken or a steak, or …some other form of delicacy, if you know what I mean, don’t tease me; don’t get too close to my teeth, or leave me hungry too long. It’ll make me angry, and I’m up for a death roll any time. Or a dinner roll. But I’ll take the steak first, thanks.
You won’t see me until it’s too late. I’m already there. When I was younger all I wanted to do was help people, but I’m older and I saw all of the lies and the selfishness and I reached the point where I don’t give a shit any more. Now, I just want to take what I want. After all, it’s how everyone else treated me when I was younger. It’s only gotten worse as I have gotten a little older. Nobody cares, except Boy Scouts, and people who are pretending while hoping not to get caught.
If I didn’t have a conscience, if you had it and I wanted it, and if I were strong enough to take it, then I’d just say, “Fuck you. It’s mine now.” It would be so easy. It’s a pity, this conscience. I watched an old crocodile who took apples and grapes and stuff from the grocery store. I watched a young little shit who stole candy and grew up to burglarize houses and jack cars to support their drug habits. I watch the news and see the idiots in the trench coats stealing food. And I watch the people who know how to work the system, scoring steak and crab legs and alcohol and other luxuries on their food stamp budget. And cigarettes, too- those are very expensive. I never got into the habit.
If I didn’t have a conscience, I don’t think I’d get caught doing what I want. Plenty of people get away with this taking-game every day, and their hearts don’t trouble them in any way. I exercise plenty of restraint, because if you do that kind of crap and get caught, there are consequences. That’s why I pay for my groceries. I don’t want to end up on America’s Most Wanted, or America’s Dumbest Criminals, or some other idiotic reality show like that. But there I am, lurking under the surface of the water with just my eyes showing, watching all the bullshit people hand each other, and tried to hand me, and I’m ready to strike. I’ll smile at you. And then you’ve had it.
I’ve learned that a person’s word is not his bond any more. Spoken promises aren’t worth spit. Go ahead and lie to me though, so I can wish you were dead. If you’ve already lied to me, maybe there’s an angel somewhere who can poison your crab legs, you crooks. I can hope. Wonder if I’d see that item in the evening news. If I didn’t have a conscience, and figured out how to get away with it, I’d be first in line to get my revenge. I’m too old to do it, but I work my ass off to earn my keep. I buy lottery tickets for two reasons. One, the fantasy. Two, I have just as much chance of winning as the next sucker.
I watched the last jerk who won the big prize. He was already a millionaire, and obviously didn’t need the money. He bragged about how he’d do good for this and that church, and then complained a briefcase of his money was stolen out of his truck. Outside the strip club. Who’s a liar?
I daydream about the big win. I have a plan. But it’s becoming more selfish the older I get and the less I see people helping each other. People all have the same hearts: they’re all corrupt and evil and selfish. Except Boy Scouts. I wanted to help. I wanted to give. If I won the lottery, all my old “friends” would come out of the woodwork or from under their rocks and claim to have cared about me my whole life. And my family would have a plan for how to spend that. And a few hopeless beggars would come out wanting to help, too. The current jackpot is $450M. Well, once I stock the liquor cabinet and the freezer and refrigerator in my new house and get my new car, and take a vacation, we’ll see. But until I’m settled in, fuck you. And if I remember you, unless you were nice, fuck you too. And if you want to steal from me, I may just poison you myself. And hire someone to get rid of the bodies. Now there’s a pleasant crocodile daydream.
But if I win the lottery, if you’re a boy scout, don’t get greedy but I’ll buy a lot of your popcorn. A year’s supply. And popcorn to give to friends and family. You need the money for your camping trips and adventures and your service projects. Because boy scouts, by and large, are good kids. Girl scouts and their cookies too, those thin mints are just plain good. And there’s another pleasant crocodile daydream. I’m smiling just thinking about it. With all those cookies and that popcorn, not to mention rib eye and porterhouse steaks, I’m going to need a good dentist for my new, gold, crocodile teeth.