Page 14 of Gator

Leaning against the wall, I dug out my prized possession and pointed it at the toilet as I stared out at the bright sunshine encompassing Rosewood, Virginia, and I wondered if I should stage an intervention or just start a reality TV show.

The ratings would be off the charts.

As I finished my business and flushed, I heard a loud crash from the other room, followed by a string of creative curses. “What in the holy hangover hell was that?” I yelled, already knowing the answer.

“I... may have knocked over the raccoon,” Thore’s voice called back, sheepishness dripping from his words. “Sorry, little buddy. My bad.”

I rolled my eyes again, a familiar feeling when dealing with my eccentric brothers.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, I noticed Juju had managed to find a pair of tighty-whities, which were stretched to their limits, and was attempting to make coffee. His naked ambition was on full display. Braveheart was still snoring, a string of chili connecting his face to the empty bowl, and Worm was rubbing his wrists, looking like he’d had one too many run-ins with Lady Luck. Donut, my dear, sweet, man-child of a brother, was sitting up, thumb in his mouth, looking like a lost puppy.

I shook my head, knowing that despite the chaos, I loved these idiots.

“Alright, boys, let’s get this hangover show on the road,” I ordered as someone unlocked the door and walked in.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”

“Laissez les bon temps rouler, Doc!” I happily greeted, arms wide as the good doctor walked into the room along with a familiar face I hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Ooh-ee, Gator.” Romeo smiled as he stepped into the room, grinning like a po-boy knee deep in collard greens.

“Cuz!” I bellowed happily as I walked over to give the man a hug. “When did you get into town?”

“Been here a few days,” he said with a hearty back slap. “Should have come up to the lodge. We could have partied together like old times.”

“No,” I grunted. “Ain’t steppin’ foot in those fancy digs until mymômanshows up.”

Romeo rolled his eyes. “Good grief, Gator. Auntie Marabella ain’t gonna care. There’s a weddin’ coming and she would expect you to help.”

“Not gonna dis’ mymôman. No way. No how.”

“It’s like we tried telling the doc last night,” Donut piped up, all helpful like,sansthe thumb. “The prez ain’t above his station...”

“I get it, Donut,” Romeo groaned.

“What the hell happened last night?” the doc spoke up, glaring about the room. “I said you could help yourselves to the bar, not drink it dry. And why the hell is Thore crying over a dead raccoon?”

“It’s dead!” Thore screamed. “I killed it!”

“This is the most asinine thing I’ve ever seen,” the doc grumbled as he stood next to me watching the scene before us. “The damn thing was already dead, Gator. Why the hell is Thore digging a grave?”

“Because, Doc, Thore’s gotta pay his respects. The man has a soft spot for all critters, and he feels responsible,” I explained, watching my brother dig a hole in the ground for the dead animal. This was nothing new to me, just another typical Saturday morning.

Or was it Monday?

I couldn’t remember.

Hell, the backyard at mymôman’splace deep in the bayou was nothing but graves, but I didn’t think the doc needed to hear that.

“But the damn thing was already dead!”

“Yep.” I nodded. “But it don’ matter.”

“For crying out loud,” the doc grumbled as his phone vibrated. Looking at it, he stiffened.

“Hey, guys!”

“Great, crazy is here,” the grumpy man groaned.

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