Alligator In Chain
My boss's wife thought my vehicle parked in front of their house was a car bomb, or something.

Me and him were carpooling in his truck over swamp at six-thirty this morning on the elevated I-55 towards Ponchatoula. His cell phone rang just as he plugged it into the cigarette lighter. He said "shit," then, "what," and then, "Jim's." He didn't say anything else so I assumed he had hung up. I was looking at swamp, engrossed inside the blankness of my morning-head, but I knew who had called him, and who Jim was, so I wasn't totally checked out.

I knew that later, on the way home, he would imagine how feasible it would be to discard of a body in the swamp, and that I would offer my opinions on the subject. That's the kind of thing swamp makes you think about; we're not bad guys either one of us.

As we approached his brother's five acre tract he pointed to a cool little ramshackle house set back deep in the piney woods, maybe a hundred yards from the road, and told me about some guys who got caught cooking metha-amphetamines in the woods between their house and the brother's house. I looked at the woods and thought that makes perfect sense.

On the brother's property is a free standing garage which has been converted into a really nice guest house, inside of which we drank a little coffee, talked about the merits of space heaters versus central heating, and eventually left out of on our way to a housepainter's workday in Hammond, Louisiana. This was a good bit more of a distance from my Mid-City New Orleans home than I usually like to travel for work but the country's economy is in a shambles, the chief executive officer, a loser. I'm taking what I can get. And mostly because I find myself totally wasting any free time I receive, not because I am personally in economic dire straits, yet.

We followed the brother through downtown Ponchatoula on our way to Hammond. I have been through there several times but stopped at a light I was stumped as to the purpose of that chain-link enclosure on the corner, right in the middle of town. "What's with that?" I asked my boss. He said, "that's where they keep the alligator, I think the big one died though." I'm not bragging but I get depressed really easily. I had to talk myself up, exhorting me to cheer up, it's just a fucking alligator or two, keep it real, focus on the larger perspective. Focusing on the larger perspective was a mistake, very gloomy indeed, so I double clutched, hoping for the best, and ended up back inside the blankness of my morning-head. We're going back that direction tomorrow, but we'll be bypassing downtown Ponchatoula.
- jimlouis 2-28-2003 4:25 am

I don't comment on your page in any proportion resembling the amount I take away from it. But here's one notion: that cat photo up in the corner is perfect.

And while I'd be hard pressed to pick one exemplary sentence from your vast collection, I'd like to just repeat this one: "I'm not bragging but I get depressed really easily."

Nice.
- jim 2-28-2003 5:29 am [2 comments]


Thanks Jim, Shorty (the cat) lives. As for the other, I'd trade my "I'm not bragging" for your Mr. Rogers comment anyday.
- jimlouis 2-28-2003 6:36 am [2 comments]


ALligator is well taken care of and makes lots of children smile and excited--Ponchatoula can do with out negative people like you--stay in your city
- Alligator (guest) 7-29-2006 7:38 am [add a comment]


Well, I read Mister Louis blog about her.
Well, I read ole Jim put her down.
Well, I hope jimlouis will remember
Ponchatoula don't need him around anyhow.

Sweet home Ponchatoula, where the gators are content
Sweet home Ponchatoula, Lord I'm coming home to you

- mark 7-29-2006 8:06 am [add a comment]


Thank you for the advice, alligator, I think I'll take it.
- jimlouis 7-29-2006 3:55 pm [add a comment]





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