“SON OF A GUN my whole
body aches!” Maria blurted out loudly as she finally regained 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.
“So where are you Phil? Where are we?”
“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- OH MY
GOD! WHAT WAS THAT?”
Maria abruptly recoiled and pulled her arm back tightly
against her body. “What the heck was
that? What 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,” replied Maria.
“Wait a minute – you said your name is Phil?”
“That’s right.”
“And 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,
last week I read about a funeral in the newspaper. It was a funeral for a
groundhog – a groundhog named Phil. 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 all I know is, they definitely had a funeral out at
the Resthaven cemetery a week or so ago and buried what they said was a
groundhog by the name of Phil.”
“Bummer – I guess they all think I’m dead!” moaned Phil.
------------------------------------------------
The receptionist pushed the button to answer the incoming
call and then spoke into the headset, “State of Texas National Guard. How may I
direct your call?”
Half out of breath and with a hurried importance, the voice
on the other end of the line announced, “This is Dan Wagner, Chief Director at
the Sam Houston Wild Life Preserve Laboratory. Connect me with whoever is in
charge there. And hurry!”
“Hold please.”
After twelve agonizingly long seconds – “Hello, this is
Commander Alfred Kir–“
“Commander,” Dan interrupted, “this is Dan Wagner out at the
wildlife preserve. We’ve got an emergency situation that needs immediate
attention.”
“What kind of a situation are we talking about here?”
queried the commander.
“Two of our adult velociraptors have escaped from their
cages in the lab and are now running loose in the preserve.”
“Velociraptors? As in, like the movies? Sorta like… Jurassic
Park velociraptors?”
“Exactly like Jurassic Park velociraptors.”
------------------------------------------------
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. With half-opened
eyes, four of the alligators gazed across the lagoon to the rocky banks near
the base of the cliff hoping to beat the big alligator to the jump in case food
flew over the edge of the cliff like it did the day before. The big alligator,
Ernest, as dubbed by the Preserve Rangers, was almost always the first to get
any food – often swallowing it whole before the others even got a chance at it.
But at the moment, Ernest was sound asleep in the mud. The other four, although
fighting the urge to go to sleep themselves, were not about to let Ernest get
the better of them should some food happen to wander by or even once again fall
right out of the sky.
And so they waited – and they watched – and they waited –
and they waited. After about fifteen minutes had gone by, all of them had succumbed,
just as Ernest had, to the beckoning of an afternoon nap.
The five of alligators all slept soundly for a good two
hours – until about the time that the snapping sound of a fallen tree branch
caused Ernest to open one eye and focus in the general direction most likely to
have generated the sleep-interrupting noise.
Slowly he opened the other eye and watched for movement in the brush beyond the
lagoon. The other four alligators, completely oblivious to any possible danger,
continued with their peaceful state of unconsciousness.
Ernest began to slowly make a visual search of the
undergrowth from his position across the lagoon, moving only his eyes so as not
to alert any possible predators that he was wise to their approach. Then
suddenly – another snapping twig; a shadow along the side of a tree trunk;
leaves rustling near the ground. Ernest opened both eyes wide and raised up on
all fours, ready to make a fierce dash into battle should the enemy present
itself. Then, just as Ernest saw the head of a velociraptor appear from the dense
brush and as he push off with his legs to dive into the water and cross the
lagoon for the confrontation, he felt the crushing blow to his tail that
stopped him dead in his tracks. He spontaneously flipped his body to see that
another velociraptor had jumped onto his tail and had it pinned to the ground. Ernest
lashed out with his front claws and his jaws but before he could muster much of
a defense, the first velociraptor had
dashed across the lagoon and joined in on a two-against-one fight. The velociraptors
began ripping Ernest to shreds. In all of the commotion, the other four
alligators woke up and attempted to enter the battle. The one velociraptor
loosened its grip on Ernest’s tail long enough to let out a deafening shriek
and lunge at the other alligators who immediately gave up the notion of attack
and went scurrying off into the woods. It then returned to its task of turning
alligator tail into a shredded, reptile sushi mess.
Ernest feverishly swung his claws – often into blank air but
occasionally into the hide of one or the other of the velociraptors. But even
as big as Ernest was, he was fighting a losing battle against the two feisty
velociraptors. He held his own for quite a while and managed to do some serious
damage to both of them – if
it just hadn’t have happened that one of
the velociraptors decided to grab Ernest’s head, twist it around, and then rip
it completely off of his body.
Holding the alligator head in its hands, the velociraptor
raised it above its own head and began jumping around in some sort of primitive
victory dance. Both velociraptors, egotistically proud of their tactical
skills, started prancing around the banks of the lagoon seemingly to lay claim
to their newly conquered territory. They carried on like that for several
minutes – right up until the time that an Air Force F-16 Fighting Falcon jet
fired four direct-hit missiles that blew both velociraptors to smithereens and
their souls, if they had possessed any, straight back to the prehistoric ages.
------------------------------------------------
As the evening skies started to dim, the Sam Houston Wild
Life Preserve was crawling with National Guard troops, official Preserve
vehicles and personnel, local and national governmental agencies, and of
course, an army of reporters and photographers. The lagoon and the entire
surrounding area had been roped off as crews of scientists investigated the
scattered remains of the “up-until-then-considered-extinct” velociraptors. Four
Preserve Rangers parked their van on the dirt road and headed over to pick up the
remains of Ernest’s body. Then, just as they were about to reach down to pick
up the huge alligator torso, it suddenly made a spastic twitch to the side. All
four rangers jumped back about three feet then stopped. Ernest’s body jumped
again – and again. His back started to bulge up and down. The rangers had never
seen anything like that at all. The reporters and photographers rushed over to
see what was happening. Everyone stood around in awe and gasped as Ernest’s
headless, near-tailless body thrashed around on the muddy banks of the lagoon.
After a minute or two of this, the body once again stopped
moving. Then, as everyone’s eyes were fixed upon the lifeless alligator's body, a human
hand appeared from the opening left by Ernest’s severed head – and then, a
second hand. The hands grabbed hold of each side of the opening and pulled and
pushed until… Maria popped her head out
of the alligator’s neck opening and eventually worked herself free. Immediately
afterwards, Phil the groundhog appeared and also exited the dead alligator’s carcass.
For a few seconds, there was utter silence – until all at once, the reporters
and photographers charged then surrounded Maria and Phil and started bombarding
them with questions.
“How long have you been in there?” – “How did you get inside
the alligator?” – “How could you two survive in there?” – “Was there enough air
in there for you to breathe?” – “Is there anyone else inside?” – “Did either of
you find a sponge in there?”
Maria looked at the reporters. She looked down at Phil. She
looked back at the reporters then said, “I don’t really have anything to say
except – has anyone seen my bicycle?”
And Maria and Phil lived
happily ever after -
The Groundhog Pentalogy
The REAL Epilogue
(But who's that buried out at Resthaven Cemetery?)
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