“See, at first, the crocodiles in the city sewers only came out at night,” Mike said, and blew out the last of the smoke as he tapped his cigarette on the railing. “And then…well. Then they found the kazoos.”
Mike fell silent, and Jay waited for him to continue the story while the heat and humidity dissipated ever-so-slightly as the sun dropped behind a clump of magnolias and swamp moss.
Finally, Jay acquiesced and took a sip of his drink, then nodded acceptance. “Kazoos. No one likes kazoos.”
Mike crushed out the burning ember and stared into the bayou. “They spent the nights rock’a’noodling, buzzing away on their kazoos, keepin’ the whole neighborhood awake. And after three days of tired babies screaming…”
Jay nodded again, and they settled into silence. He didn’t think he needed the details after all. Why his new neighbor had a crocodile-leather living room set that could seat at least a dozen folks – well, that was none of his business.
He did, however, wonder whether the crocodiles wanted revenge, and vowed to unpack his shotgun. Just as soon as he finished his beer.
***
I’m running late! There’s more excitement over at MOTE, though!
