By Glenda Reynolds
“What idiots those Hollywood people are! What in the holy heck is this world coming to?” exclaimed Jim Bob Moffit after viewing the YouTube video of a PETA advocate. He shook his head in disgust. In the video, a sexy vixen in a faux police uniform from the hips up scan people and divest them of leather and fur clothing. The ones sporting fake leathers and furs were free to pass; those who showed up nude passed through only to indulge in deep kissing. This internet link was emailed to him from the local PETA organization based in South Florida. Jim Bob had been receiving emails like this for months because he owned and operated an alligator farm, Gator World, which was a family business. It had been in his family for three generations now.
The sluggish economy had affected tourism slightly of late. It didn’t help that members of PETA showed up to protest in what they considered cruelty to animals. They didn’t like the fact that his alligators were fed chicken scraps. Perhaps they would be happier if his gators were vegetarians, but no. They also didn’t like the fact that the gators were bred to be harvested for their hide and meat.
“Maybe the human race should walk around with leaves strategically placed in the front and back like Adam and Eve,” he mumbled in protest. “I’ll tell them where they can stick their leaves!” Jim Bob stuck a plug of tobacco between his cheek and gum. After putting his work boots on, he stalked out of his dilapidated old house to begin caring for his alligators, but first things first.
He walked over to where a shiny black Lexus was sitting at the edge of the bank above some deep water. It was owned by an IRS agent who served Jim Bob a Notice of Lien the day before because he owed back taxes on his business. Jim Bob flew into a rage as he attacked the agent, knocking him out cold. He quickly tied the agent to a chair. Then he secured a bag with a rattlesnake over the agent’s head. When the agent came to, he immediately went into a screaming frenzy as he writhed helplessly in his chair. The snake struck him in the face several times. Its poison acted quickly, paralyzing his body, slowing his breathing, and finally stopping his heart. By this time it was dark out. Jim Bob parked the Lexus near the water, away from the only street light on the back of the property. As he went about wrapping the body in a tarp, he whistled his favorite Hank Williams song, “Your Cheatin’ Heart”. He noticed that the corpse was already pretty stiff when he placed it in the trunk of the Lexus. Now that it was daylight, he opened the trunk, pulled the tarp away to peer at the face one more time. The dead man’s face was swollen three times its normal size. The eyes remained open and bulging. The mouth remained open as if emitting a silent scream. Jim Bob smiled at his handiwork. He slammed the trunk closed again. With a screw driver in hand, he removed the license plate. When he opened the car door, some legal papers were blown by the wind and tumbled out in all directions. Jim Bob scurried to try to retrieve them, but he was unsuccessful. He returned to the car, put it in neutral, and rolled it into the water until it was completely submerged. Suddenly, a red umbrella popped up on the surface.
“Dang it. I must have left one of the windows open. I guess I’ll get that later.”
In the midst of Jim Bob’s daily chores, a silver Mercedes-Benz made its way West on Interstate seventy-five better known as Alligator Alley. The driver, Pam Broder, was a female in her late twenties. Her hair was bleached blonde, wavy and shoulder length. She was a real knock out in her zebra print blouse and faux black leather mini-dress. Her ample breasts peeked out of the strategically cut neckline. The red lipstick she wore gave a pop of color to the whole ensemble. Pam slowed as she glimpsed the sign “Gator World, Home of the Largest Alligator”. Another sign under this one read, “Airboat tours, Gift Shop”. Sure enough, there was a giant sized alligator at the front of the property that was in fact the gift shop. The reptile-like structure faced the parking lot with its jaws open wide for eager tourist to walk through. People loved to stand in between the long white teeth to have their picture taken.
Pam parked her vehicle close to the gift shop. As she unbuckled her seat belt, She looked around not really too thrilled to be there. As her slender legs emerged from the vehicle, her spiked heels crunched into the gravel. Before she took another step, she saw that her heel had speared through a piece of paper. She hobbled over to sit on a hay bale at the entrance to dislodge the paper from her shoe. It wasn’t just any piece of trash. It happened to be the Notice of Lien on the Gator World property by the IRS. There were smudges of blood on it. She folded it and tucked it into the pocket of her mini skirt.
“Why do I get all of the grunge jobs for PETA? I could be in Miami right now at an animal abuse awareness campaign on the beach.” She reluctantly strolled into the gift shop where she gazed at Indian jewelry in the display case. A tall, handsome Seminole Indian came to stand beside her.
“Turquoise jewelry would look very beautiful on you,” he said without introduction as he smiled at her. She immediately saw that he was missing a thumb. “Oh, that happened when I was alligator wrestling,” he said, smiling with pride.” She politely returned the smile. Her eyes followed him until he exited the gift shop, and then her smile was gone as she shook her head at the ridiculousness of what he said.
She turned to the clerk at the cash register to purchase a park ticket. “We don’t open ‘till eight o’clock, ma’am.” Pam acknowledged this and paid for her ticket.
She saw a brochure of Gator World with the following schedule of events:
· Behind the scenes tour with history
· Close up encounter with the petting zoo
· Gator Feeding
· Gator Wrestling
· Airboat rides
Pam exited the gift shop to stand at the locked gate. As she casually looked over the brochure, she caught the eye of Jim Bob as he hastened to ready the park for opening. He wore his customary blue jeans, green polo shirt and a white cowboy hat. His eyes popped out from behind his glasses at the sight of her. He licked his lips in thought. Then he came over to unlock the gate to the entrance.
“Well, good morning to ya. Would you like to be the first one admitted this morning?”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” They stood there for two more seconds when she said, “But I must tell you that I’m not here solely for pleasure. I represent the local chapter of PETA in South Florida. I came to discuss the conditions of your park.”
“Well, I won’t hold that against you, ma’am.” In truth, this angered Jim Bob so much that he could spit. Good thing he had a mouthful of tobacco. “Come on out here. I want you to see that we take very good care of all our animals.” He clinched his hands into fists as he escorted her around the park.
First stop was the petting zoo. There were cages that housed an albino boa constrictor, a tarantula, and iguanas. A pot-bellied pig and playful goats ran around in a separate space adjoining this. Jim Bob noticed that the cage remained open that housed the tarantula, most likely done at feeding time.
“Why can’t you allow these animals to run freely within a larger space?” she inquired.
“You mean without cages? Don’t you think we have enough constrictors roaming free eating dogs and endangering children here in South Florida? There are plenty of iguanas running around loose too. If I didn’t keep these guys in cages, half of my petting zoo would be gone.”
“Can’t you at least provide bigger cages for them? I’m sure that it causes them stress to be so confined.”
“I’ll take it into consideration.” He briefly shook his head thinking what a bimbo she was.
They entered the pig and goat area. To Jim Bob’s delight, she immediately became the target of the pot-bellied pig as it continued nudging her calves to be fed treats. She backed up to a fence. All of the sudden her eyes widened in horror when a tarantula walked over her shoulder and across her chest. She began jumping up and down, flailing her arms. This made the Notice of Lien fall out of her pocket. Jim Bob bent to retrieve it for her even though he recognized what it was. His eyes became steely as a snake looking at its prey.
“I see that you’ve found Fred. Come here, Fred,” he said as he allowed the tarantula to crawl on his hand. He walked over to its cage and put it in there. “Come and let me show you the gator pit. How would you like to feed one of these guys?”
Knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the park opened to the public, he escorted Pam to the alligator pit where they feed the gators chicken scraps. Her spiked heels made a clonking noise on the wooden platform. Jim Bob opened a large refrigerator to grab large pieces of chicken. Next he grabbed some poles to bate with chicken meat.
“Mr. Moffit, I’d like to discuss your alligator farm if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, let’s hear it. I know I’m not going to like it.”
“Don’t you think that we can be better stewards of God’s creation instead of senselessly killing these alligators?”
“Ma’am, if you were dropped in the Everglades, how long do you think that you would last if you faced one or more of these?” he said as he pointed to the mostly submerged alligators.
“That’s not my point. The killing is senseless because man-made materials are not costly to make and they look just as good. There’s no reason to continue to slaughter these innocent reptiles.”
“Well, I don’t have close connections with China or India. I just have my alligator farm that has been in my family for three generations. I am descended from the Miccosukee Indians better known as the Seminoles. This is my livelihood.” After he had placed a large piece of chicken meat on the string of a pole he said, “Tell you what. You help feed these gators and we’ll talk some more. How’s that?”
“Sure. Just show me what to do.”
“Just walk on over to the edge here and dangle the meat. They know that it’s feeding time.”
While Pam got into position with her pole, Jim Bob reached into a large aquarium where a three-foot alligator was. He scooped him up in his arms and stroked the docile creature as he routinely did. He came to stand beside Pam as the largest and oldest alligator named Elvis took center stage to be fed. He used his powerful tail to catapult him several feet into the air to retrieve the hooked chicken meat. For some reason, the meat stayed hooked creating dragging tension for Pam. She looked to Jim Bob for help, but became alarmed at the hiss and the open jaws of the smaller gator in his arms. She screamed. Elvis pulled. Pam teetered into the gator pit. All of the alligators descended on her, each taking a chunk. Some of them were biting and rolling as they do in the wild to incapacitate their prey. Jim Bob watched the mayhem until they quieted down. One gator dragged Pam’s body below the surface to snack on her at a later time. Her breast implants popped up to the surface for a brief second only to be eaten by another alligator.
“Ho-ho, boys! You do me proud!”
Jim Bob parked Pam’s silver Mercedes-Benz on the back of the property on the edge of the bank. It soon joined the other vehicle in the murky water of the Everglades before any tourists arrived.
Soon, missing persons reports were filed for Pam Broder and the IRS agent. Tips lead to Gator World. Soon, sheriff’s deputies were swarming the place, looking for trace evidence. Jim Bob was nowhere to be found. He had taken his animals and alligators to another unknown site in the Everglades.
The Broward County sheriff stood there at the gator pit viewing a sign which read, “Elvis, the oldest living alligator in Florida”. The sheriff chomped on his toothpick and nonchalantly said, “Elvis has left the building”.
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