Wednesday, March 28, 2007

The Legend of Alligator Bugaloo



While in New Orleans, I happened to go on a canoe trip in the Bayou. While there, I met a man who goes by the name of Alligator Bugaloo. Alligator Bugaloo wore gator boots, black jeans, a beater, and a black bandana. On his face was a short black as coal beard, and from his left hand pocket hung a knife. He spoke in a thick, southern drawl, and had a tattoo of a skull marking his right shoulder. He was, the biggest bad ass I have ever met in my entire life. The following is my account of our meeting and subsequent adventure.

Kenny Havok: Nice to meet you Mr. Bugaloo. Kenny Havok here AIIIGHHHH FUCKING JESUS WHAT IS THAT?

Alligator Bugaloo: Hi, Kenny. Never mind him. That’s just an alligator on a leash.

(Takes a swig of Coors Light)

KH: Shit! How do you hold down an alligator on a leash? That’s a 9 footer! Can’t that thing MOVE?

AB: Well…he could…but he knows who his daddy is. (Takes a swig of Coors Light) If he try to go back to the swamp he knows he gonna get wrassled. And ain’t no gator beat Bugaloo b’fore. NO GATOR. (Finishes Coors Light)

KH: Damn. How often you feed ‘em?

AB: Live chickens, three times a day. It’s damned difficult to get the chicken in his mouth before he bites yer hand off. (Chugs entire Coors Light)

KH: Okay…well let’s get going here. I have some gator wrasslin’ to learn and some canoeing to do!

(We get in canoes and paddle into the murky obsidian colored bayou. Alligator Bugaloo drinks 5 more Coors Lights. It’s peaceful for awhile. Too peaceful…Alligator Bugaloo spots a 12 foot gator mama protecting its eggs and instructs me to get out of the canoe. I reluctantly oblige. Alligator Bugaloo drinks another Coors Light.)

AB: That there is a beauty. Yer in luck today. Normally I take horse tranquilizers so I don’t go all batshit crazy on the gators. Dried myself out yesterday, though. Makes me a mean ole sumbitch today. Withdrawal and everything.

KH: Are you sure it’s a good idea to go after the mother gator? Why not just go for a random one that might be less hostile.

AB: SHOW YER TATERS YA YANKEE SUMBITCH!

(Alligator Bugaloo pushes me toward the alligator. Immediately, it is pissed and lunges at me to defend her nest. I fall to the ground at the thrust of Alligator Bugaloo’s push and the Alligator bites me. It takes a small chunk out of my forearm. I am shocked.)




AB: COME ON YANKEE!

(The alligator lunges at me again. I quickly spin out of the way and hop on its back. Alligator Bugaloo throws me a Coors Light. I puncture a hole in the can using the gators teeth.)

KH: AWWWWWWW MEAT!

(I shotgun the beer. Like Popeye and spinach, the beer multiplies my strength 100 fold and the fact that I am drinking a damned Coors product fills me with a venomous rage. I suddenly remember that I am also, a huge bad ass. I pick the gator up by the spiny bitch’s tail and whirl it at a tree. The gator is furious. It charges at me. I reach into my pocket and pull out a ball point pen from my hotel. I jab the pen into the pressure point behind the gators eye effectively killing it.) Editors Note: You can actually kill a gator this way, proving this is a true story.

AB: WAHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! Blackened gator nuggets for everyone tonight.

(We haul the gator into the canoe and paddle back. We get back on land.)

AB: Hey, Havok, check these out. (Lifts shirt, exposes belly and chest.) WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah! Give me what I need, daddy!

KH: Jeezum Crow!

AB: Kenny, chere, just reach in the big tub of beads right there and toss a few this way. Come on, I’m working it here. (Shakes self side to side violently, his skin exactly the color of gator boudin.)

KH: Um, yeah, here ya go. (Tosses beads in bloodsoaked fistfuls.)

AB: Hey, don’t you have something else for your friend here? Little extra lard for the roux, you know, if you’re gonna be cribbin from Papa Bugaloo’s mental kitchen here?

KH: Honestly, I’m havin’ a hard time understanding what you’re saying here. Also, you do realize an alligator bit me right? And that I’m profusely bleeding? You are aware of this, right?

(Striking woman enters)


Rosie is a mean woman
AB: Hey, Rosie! Bring that twenty pounds of fine, gumbo-fed assmeat in here and jiggle up the Havok a 48 oz. Hurricane! Vite, my sweet, this boy has a gator bite! So like I was sayin’, a little lagniappe before we yap…

(Rosie leaves)

KH: Just some water will do. I don’t wanna go crazy again. And maybe a band aid. A large band aid.

(Rosie enters.)

AB: Ah, Rosie! You fine piece of fuckslam…I want to make love to your sugar brown ass right here on this desk in front of beer chuggin’ gator wrasslin’ Kenny Havok. Strip it off for me, you mindbending assmagical she-devil.

Rosie: Hm.

(Leaves drinks on desk, turns and exits with ass floating in tractor beam wobble behind her.)

KH: She know you’re talkin’ to her like that?

AB: Ah, that voodoo octaroon GONNA BE THE DEATHAHME YET!!! (Spills drink, collapses in chair.) Lady Claire told me she like to got a piece of my hair when I got here, used it to put the loveroot on me. Now I got to keep my hair under this protective hat all the time. White’s the color of protection in santeria.

KH: Isn’t that a Sublime song? What’s going on here?

(Alligator Bugaloo starts dancing. A snake lurks nearby and slithers towards him. I spot it, pull Alligator Bugaloo’s knife from the shaft and chop its head off)

AB: YOU ARE ONE CRAZY BASTARD! You’re not so bad yankee, thanks fer killin’ the python in the grass.

(Alligator Bugaloo picks up the snakes and walks away. He comes back 5 minutes later with a belt made from the snake.)

AB: A partin’ gift for the Havok!

(He gives me the belt. We exchange contact information and I return back to New Orleans. Later, I realize that his contact information is a bottle of spit.)

THE END OF A TRUE STORY.

4 comments:

I've Got an Idea... said...
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