I still don’t like scorpions, as evidenced by this lovely article. I like alligators even less, as evidenced by the same article.

But I have nothing but admiration for the elderly Sandra Frosti (as evidenced by the same article), who bravely faced down an alligator in her kitchen a few years ago. An EIGHT FOOT ALLIGATOR.

Or there’s the entire population of Florida, who must have cojones THIS big (I’m making a big circle with my arms here), since they deal with mating alligators every spring. Apparently the ‘gators have decided that the entire state is a gigantic singles bar and they’re all making out wherever they get an urge, which is apparently frequently.

I was reading up prior a trip to Tampa in a week or so and came across this oldie but goodie from Palmetto, FL. A woman found a six footer in her bathroom and simply blocked the door and called whatever brave souls you call when there’s a prehistoric monster in your toilet.

But this quote is the absolute best and illustrates the nerve of the entire freaking state: “The officials who trapped the alligator in the Dunbar house said they planned to kill the creature, as they consider them a nuisance when they are more than 4 feet long.“

Um, I am here to tell you, Cleveland, that an alligator less than four feet long is a menace in my book, and a eight footer is a great excuse to panic.

© E. Stocking Evans 2014