“SON OF A GUN my whole
body aches!” Maria blurted out loudly as she was starting to regain
consciousness. She rapidly batted her eyelids but she could not see a thing.
Wherever she was, it was pitch black.
Then a muted voice, as if from a substantial distance away said,
“Hello? Is someone there?”
Maria, still rubbing her eyes in an attempt to adjust her
vision responded, “Who’s there? Where are we?”
“My name is Phil,” replied the voice.
“My name is Maria, Phil. Do you have any idea where we are?”
“Not one clue whatsoever. I’ve been here for several days I
think – maybe weeks. I’m not really sure where we are. I haven’t been able to
see a darn thing the entire time.”
“Well wherever we are, it sure as heck stinks! So where are
you?”
“I’m working my way towards the sound of your voice. Keep
talking. Hold out your hand.”
As Maria reached out her arm, she couldn’t help but to
comment, “You know, I think that’s the first time in my life that anyone ever
told me to keep talking. Usually I
kinda get the impression that most people think I talk too much. I mean, they
don’t always come right out and tell me I talk too much but you can tell if you
watch their face - OH MY GOD! WHAT WAS THAT?”
Maria abruptly recoiled and pulled her arm back tightly
against her body. “What the heck was
that? What in the world just touched my hand?”
“That was my hand,”
replied Phil. “I’m a groundhog. I have tiny little weird hands.”
“Well, it certainly scared me to death I’ll tell you that right
now. I can’t see a danged thing in here, wherever we are, and I’m expecting to
reach out and touch a human hand and then all of the sudden here’s this little
freaky… Wait a minute – you said your name is Phil?”
“That’s right.”
“And you say you’re a groundhog?”
“Right again.”
By this time, Phil had managed to crawl up beside Maria as
she sat in the darkness of their unidentifiable confinement. Maria felt Phil
brush up against the side of her outstretched leg and she reached over with her
hand and felt the furriness of the back of his head. She continued, “You know,
they just buried a groundhog out at the cemetery last week – a groundhog named
Phil. Was he a friend or acquaintance of yours perhaps?”
“No. That’s kind of hard to believe. I’m the only groundhog
named Phil that’s even around right now.”
“Well I don’t know about that but what I do know is, they
definitely had a funeral out at the Resthaven cemetery a week ago and they buried
what they said was a groundhog by the name of Phil. In fact, I got this friend
who was telling me the story about how he was out bike riding and he had the
groundhog on that back of his bicycle and a big ol’ alligator came running up
and snatched it right off of his bike – the bag he was riding in and everything
– nearly tore the rack off the bike too. I got chased by some dogs one time –
vicious little creatures. There were about five of them – whaddya call ‘em –
bull dogs. No – not bull dogs – uh – the other kinda bull dogs – I mean not bull
dogs but bull something else – or something bull – don’t tell me. Fox! Fox bull – no that doesn’t sound right either. Let’s see… bull
terrier, bull… bull… bull dane. Dane bull… doberbull… dogbull… Hang on – it’ll come to me – just give me a
bit. Bit – that’s it. Bit. No, not bit – pit.
Pit!
It’s pit – pit bull. They were pit
bulls. That’s what I do a lot of times when I can’t think of a word – I just
start trying to sound out different things until it comes to me. I’ve always
been real good at that. I may not think of a word right off the bat but if I
just keep talking and say the words out loud as soon as they pop into my head,
I can usually figure out what the right word is. My mom used to tell me I had a
knack – that’s what she called it – a knack. She would say, “Maria, you just have
a knack for conversation.” Although when she said that to me, it was usually in
Spanish instead of English. We mostly spoke Spanish around my house when we
were growing up but in school and everywhere else I would go, I would always
try to speak English. Most people now can’t even tell that I have any kind of
accent when I speak English. Maybe my Spanish has gotten a bit rusty over the
last few years but I don’t really have too much problem trying to get my point
across when I’m speaking Spanish. I guess I just have that knack.”
------------------------------------------------
It
was a sunny afternoon out at the lagoon in the Sam Houston Wild Life Preserve.
The five resident alligators were stretched out comfortably on the cool, muddy
banks of the lagoon under the shade of an umbrella of oak trees that lined the
dirt road just to the south. Four of the alligators were sound asleep –
enjoying their afternoon nap like all of them usually do in the early
afternoon. But on this particular day, the biggest of the alligators, Ernest
(as named by the Preserve Rangers), was having trouble getting any kind of rest
at all. While everything else around the lagoon was peaceful and quiet, Ernest had
this constant racket going on inside his head – a racket that resonated through
every bone in his body. He’d had times before when his thoughts just kept
rambling in his head and there was nothing he could do to shut them off – but
this seemed different. Way different. It was like an actual voice completely foreign
from anything he would normally hear. No matter which way he turned or laid to
try and ease the sensation, it seemed to return with an even greater annoyance
within only a few moments. He tried holding his front legs over his ears – that
did nothing but cause the commotion to amplify in his brain. Ernest tried
moaning out loud to drown out the noise. No relief. As the sound increased, his
entire body started reacting – everything started aching – his stomach was in
knots – his brain felt like it going to explode. Finally, at the point of more
pain than he could stand, Ernest started going into convulsions next to the
other alligators lying on the bank of the lagoon.
Due to all of the commotion, the other four alligators woke
up just in time to see Ernest start having dry heaves as he was about to start
throwing up. They could sense the pain that he was experiencing with each
convulsion that was obviously void of relief. Unable to offer any effective
assistance, they all backed off a few feet to give Ernest plenty of room – and
not a second too soon either. For just then Ernest’s internal system was
finally able to grasp hold of an object of substantial substance to purge – and
then there came Maria, flying out of the alligator’s mouth.
Ernest looked down on the human irritant lying there face
down in the mud.
Maria turned over and looked up at the huge alligator
towering over her and said, “Do you have any idea how bad I smell now because
of you? Do you know what it’s like to be crammed inside of your stomach in the
dark and not having any idea where I was and…”
Ernest reached out and bashed in her head with his fist. He
then tossed her body over to the other four alligators, curled back up on the
banks of the lagoon and got on with his afternoon nap.
------------------------------------------------
“Maria? Maria?”
called out Phil, still wrapped in the darkness of his unknown habitat. “Maria,
what the heck happened? It felt like we were in the middle of an earthquake. Maria! Are you still there?”
With no response, Phil started feeling around in the
blackness – once again in solitude. Upon coming across the sponge, he laid his
head down on it to get some sleep. “Ah! Peace and quiet once again.”
Upon escaping from an alligator:
run don’t talk!
The Groundhog Pentalogy
Epilogue
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