Kathy Oddun was apoplectic.
She seethed and stared out of the picture window overlooking her backyard, where the bane of her existence - her mortal enemy - lounged on the grassy bank of a large retention pond that bordered her property. Blissfully unaware of the stout, short, and irate frump of a woman cursing his existence, the alligator basked languidly in the warmth of the midday sun.
“How dare you.” Kathy’s words started as a murmur, then quickly transformed into a shriek of rage. “How dare you!”
There was no one around to hear her maledictions, but she always found the sound of her own voice pleasant and soothing. Had her husband Jeff been home, Kathy knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would simply have rolled his eyes in exasperation and ignored her distress. He didn’t understand, though. Nobody understood.
That damn gator shouldn’t be there: It was trespassing on her property.
She had tried taking the issue to the community Facebook page. She had tried patiently explaining that alligators didn’t belong in the neighborhood. She had tried rationalizing with her ignorant neighbors that the reptiles never would have shown up in the first place if the thoughtless builders hadn’t foolishly built a bunch of ponds - stocking them to the brim with ducks and fish, no less - to entice the repugnant creatures!
All of Kathy’s efforts to be the voice of reason and sanity were roundly mocked. One such cretin even had the gall to try mansplaining to her that the ponds were necessary to keep the neighborhood from flooding when it rained, and that wildlife naturally found its own way to inhabiting the troublesome bodies of water. Even now, days later, she was filled with scorn and contempt for that imbecile.
“Idiot!” Kathy began babbling to herself once more. “Doesn’t he realize that I’m from California? I know how things work! Rainwater disappears when it hits the ground - those ponds are completely unnecessary! And they wouldn’t be full of ducks and fish if the contractors hadn’t put them there in the first place!”
Something had to be done about the reptilian intruder violating the sanctity of her yard. Kathy decided right then and there that she was going to have to take matters into her own hands. The locals jokingly referred to alligators as marsh puppies, so she reasoned that she could deal with this one in the same way an unruly dog was usually dealt with.
She retrieved her husband’s morning newspaper from its usual spot on his desk. As Kathy rolled it into a stout, tubular baton the thought briefly crossed her mind that Jeff would be annoyed at the theft - and potential ruination - of his daily tabloid, but she could always just buy him another. Her present task was far too important to be derailed by the slight inconvenience that might befall her spouse.
Kathy charged barefoot out of her backdoor and into her backyard. She covered the sixty feet between herself and the reptile carelessly minding its own business in a matter of moments, all the while screeching at the top of her lungs and frantically waving her makeshift club through the air. Normally, alligators would nonchalantly slink away into the water when approached by a human, but all the chaos and commotion created by this one in particular was agitating the animal.
Kathy Oddun’s arm swept down - rolled up newspaper clutched tightly in her chubby, determined hand - and the alligator’s toothy mouth snapped open, as its head moved with lightning speed.
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I’d like to pretend this is a work of fiction… but the locals know better. 🐊
As the alligator snapped its jaws down, it proceeded to drool like Homer Simpson and uttered a guttural, "Mmmmm...HOA Karen."