Page 3 of Training my Human

Cool.

I plopped back in my chair, plate balanced on my knees, and grabbed my can of Coors from the cupholder. As I swigged, the thief struck. A clawed paw reached out and snagged my steak.

I blinked. Steak was still gone. Not cool. I’d been looking forward to eating it.

My annoyance vanished as I saw what stole it. A lizard the size of a kitten sat on the edge of the fire pit, which made its theft of the steak—bigger than it was—even more comical.

Until it scarfed down that entire hunk of meat.

I mean, like how? The steak had to weigh as much, if not more, than the little reptile. Yet its jaw essentially unhinged and nom, nom, bye-bye dinner.

It belched more loudly than expected, given its diminutive size. I almost laughed at its suddenly very rounded belly.

The lizard then proceeded to speak, or so my beer-addled brain insisted, chattering in a steady stream that made no sense, but almost resembled a language.

“Slow down, little fella,” I crooned, kind of fascinated. British Columbia had its share of reptilian wildlife, but despite being born and raised in this area, I’d never seen a creature like this who seemed unafraid of fire. I worried about its perch so close to the flames. Despite it stealing my dinner, I’d hate to see the little fella barbequed.

It continued to harangue me in its chirping lizard voice while waving its paws. Or was it claws? I couldn’t tell you the proper term, but it was cute.

It patted its belly and my eyes widened. That I understood. “Sorry, that was my entire dinner. There’s no more.” I pointed to my plate and shook my head. Again, I blamed the booze for thinking I was conversing with the lizard. Or maybe I’d accidentally tossed something on the fire and was currently tripping, as in gone on a spiritual, hallucinogenic journey. Granny used to indulge in those. Usually naked. Good thing we didn’t have neighbors.

“Speaking of dinner, some of us are still hungry. Guess I’ll have to see what’s in the fridge.”

Not much. The grocery stores had been double tapped, first with having to toss a bunch of stuff in case of contamination, and then again when their stock got wiped out by people panic buying. It reminded me of the toilet paper shortage during the Covid lockdowns.

I’d lucked out on the steak only because I knew a farmer. In exchange for meat and eggs, I kept a running credit for Bart so he could get his dream tattoo. Currently, he had his left arm inked to look like a Nisga’a totem. We’d be doing his right arm next, which meant lots more steaks for me.

As I rose from my seat, I chugged my beer and crushed the can before tossing it in the recycling bin I kept by the trailer door. I entered my cramped home and sighed. I already knew my fridge only held a hunk of molding cheese and a potato growing eyes. At least the freezer had ice cream. Wouldn’t be the first time I did dessert for dinner—or breakfast.

I snared the half-eaten quart along with a spoon and collapsed on the plaid-covered bench that some would generously call a couch. I wasn’t one of those people. I could have retrofitted the trailer like some folks did, tearing out the built-in furniture to replace it with the real thing, but I’d been saving my money and effort because I wanted to build myself a real home. A place without wheels that didn’t rock in strong winds, made of something other than aluminum and vinyl. Granny used to scoff at my dream, saying she preferred the freedom to live wherever she wanted, never realizing the irony in having spent her entire life in one spot.

Scratch.

I glanced at the door with a frown.

Scri-t-t-ch.

The odd noise came again and my curious ass, which obviously never learned any lessons from horror movies, went to check it out. I opened to find Mr. Lizard on the threshold. It hopped right on in and scouted the place as if it belonged.

“Well, hello again. Making yourself at home, are we?”

The reptile waddled about, sniffing and craning, peering at everything. I could have shooed it out, but with my mellow buzz, it seemed like a bunch of effort for a harmless creature. Besides, it was kind of entertaining.

As I sucked ice cream off my spoon, I studied it. The grayish leathery skin and its sinuous tail that swished. It had two nubs along its back and when it bent over to sniff under my stove, dangly bits that marked it a boy. And before anyone comments, I thought reptiles kept their dicks and balls tucked. Maybe this little fella preferred airing his out.

I finished my ice cream and rose to put the empty container in the garbage when the little critter whipped around and cocked its head. A forked tongue flicked, and it jabbered.

“I don’t understand,” I stated with a shrug.

I swear to fuck, it looked annoyed. It pointed at me. No wait, the ice cream carton.

“You wanna taste, little fella?” If it wanted to lick it clean, go ahead. I just hoped it wasn’t lactose intolerant. Cleaning up lizard diarrhea didn’t exactly scream fun.

The lizard cautiously stuck its head in the carton and must have liked what he tasted because next thing I knew his whole body disappeared, and the carton rolled around on the floor as the little fella went to town.

Entertaining but not enough to keep me awake. A yawn cracked my jaw and I stretched. “Bedtime for me. I’ve got a full back tattoo to do tomorrow.” In other words, a full freaking day hunched over with intense focus. I needed my rest. My pillow called and I answered, falling asleep quickly, waking only when my alarm went off.

However, rather than roll out of bed, I lay still, for my new friend lay snuggled against me, his tail wrapped around his body. And was it me, or did he seem bigger? Probably needed to shit out that massive steak.

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