Her sandals wrap tightly around her ankles, hinting at bondage and other things she might enjoy. Good calves, good thighs, good legs. Good god, good legs.

She has bracelets on her left wrist. White, to match her dress. A necklace of some kind. Silver.

Her wavy hair is pulled up, but not tightly. Casually. Beautifully.
She embodies casual. Beautiful. Personifies.

I can’t see her face. She’s walking away from me. I follow her discretely along the shops to our left. What a beautiful little wiggle. I’m a fan.

I hope she’ll turn right to go to her car, or left to enter a shop. She doesn’t.

So far, the only thing I can tell from her face is that she doesn’t wear those stupid huge sunglasses. I like that about her. She doesn’t hide her face. She doesn’t hide her wiggle. She’s upfront.
She stops walking. She starts turning around. Fuck. Look busy. Keep walking. Just going to my car, which is parked over here. Walk past her. Almost brush her skin. She’s throwing something away. I don’t see her face. Dammit.
Keep walking. She’s walking again. Behind me. Just go to a car somewhere and pretend to own it. She’s going to enter one of these strip mall shops.
She doesn’t.
We’re away from the shops now.
Plan B. walk straight across the lot to the liquor store. She’s just going to her car.
Walking. Walking.

She’s going to the liquor store.
Perfect. I can go to one part of the store and casually make my way to where she is, so I can see her face.
Enter the liquor store. No I don’t want to try the new cinnamon vodka. Thank you.

Make my way to the coolers in the back.
Did she enter the store?
She’s still behind me!?!
I’ll fix that.

Stop to look at the rum on the left of me. Ah yes. This one has a pirate on it. That one has a parrot. But what kind of a rum man am I?
She passes.

I look casually over at her. Delicious is honestly the only way to describe that wiggle now. I don’t know why, but it is.
I grab the bottle of Winking Pirate Rum and slowly walk in her direction.
She slows down.
She turns to her right.
She bends down to look at the bottles on the lowest shelf.
I stay where I am for a while.
This rum I’m pretending to read sure is interesting.
She must not see what she’s looking for.
She straightens back up.
She’s my height. Slender. Toned.

I grab a bottle of Laughing Parrot Rum.
I’m going to have a rum party.
Makes sense.

She continues walking. Wiggling with every beautiful step.
I can’t believe I still haven’t seen her face.
This is ridiculous.
She makes her way to the cooler.
Maybe I can see her reflection in the glass.
I look at her reflection.
She is looking me dead in the eyes.
Fuck.
Look away too quickly for details.
Walk to the left of her.
Oh, do they have that beer that I want?
The one that goes well with the rums I have?
Hm?
My neck is hot as I open a cold door and grab a random six-pack.

I look over casually at her.
She is looking me dead in the eyes.
I smile at her.
A too-big smile without showing any teeth.
The smile that makes my lips look like earthworms.
I look back at my spirits.
Yep, they’re still the ones I was holding a moment ago.
She is stunning.
Mystery solved.
Great.
I wasn’t prepared for that.
Usually things balance out.
Her eyes.
Piercing.

My stupid heart is trying to give me an anxiety attack.
I want to look back over, but I can’t.
I don’t think she grabbed anything out of the cooler.
I turn to walk to the front of the store.

She’s standing in front of me. Eyes piercing mine.
I can’t look away.
She walks up to me.

“Hi.”
“Hello.” I rearrange all the items i’m holding.
“Are you going to buy all of that?”
“Yeah?”
“Why?”

I pause for a minute, crinkling up my forehead.

“I’m having a.. rum party.”

It’s her turn to make a face.

“Rum party?”
“Yep.”
“What’s that?”

Why is she still talking to me?

“It’s just a party, except there’s a lot of rum.”

She raises her eyebrow.

“And no other liquor?”
“Exactly.”
“So why do you have beer?”

God.
I think I love her.
She’s doing exactly what I’d do if I caught someone following me.
Interrogation.

“I don’t.”
“You don’t have beer?”
“No.”
“Then what is that?”
“Oh this? This is a six-pack of rums.”

She laughs. She’s more beautiful when she laughs. My heart twitches.
I decide to press my luck.

“Would you like to come to my rum party? Everyone’s gonna be there. It’s a very popular party.”
“Who all is going to be there?”
“Patrick Stewart, Jennifer Lopez, George Washington.”

She laughs again. Her blue eyes are so wonderful. Her lips.

“It really brings people together, huh?”
“Yes Ma’am!”
“Even dead people?”
“Especially dead people.”

She smiles.

“That sounds like something I’d be up for.”
“If you’re too busy, I understand.”
“I’m not too busy.”
“I mean, it might not be your thing.”
“It sounds like my thing.”
“The rum might not even make it to the party.”
“That’s ok.”
“Also…”
She smiles with her whole face.
“Yes?”
“…no one else will probably show up. It might just be the two of us.”
“Hmm.”
“I know… See?”

She smirks at me.

“Why were you following me?”
“Probably the same reason you were following me.”
“Hmm.”

She bites her lip and makes mischievous eyes. Such a pretty blue. I wish I could kiss her. Hug her. Something.
I decide to be upfront.

“I like your wiggle.”

She smiles.

“I like yours too.”

It’s my turn to laugh.

“Do you like coffee?”
“No.”
“Me neither. Let’s go have coffee.”
“I’d love to.”

I put down the rumbottles and follow her out the door.
Such a beautiful girl.
Such a wonderful dress. Wiggle.
Perfect.

It’s true. Alligators travel in packs. They’re like wolves that way. Why do people say “lone wolf”? A wolf is part of a pack. A wolf is never alone. In my humble opinion, “lone wolf” is a stupid expression that only idiots use. People should say “lone crocodile”. Crocodiles travel alone. Crocodiles are NOT part of any pack. That’s the main difference between crocodiles and alligators.

That and pupil diameter.

Did you know that a pack of alligators can strip the meat off a cow in less time than it takes a person to go to college?
It’s true. They’re hungry beasts. Although calling them “beasts” isn’t rightly fair. They have a hierarchy, and in my book, any creature smart enough to recognize and enforce a hierarchy is pretty damn civilized.

They don’t use currency, though. That’s the main difference between alligators and humans. Humans exchange money for goods and services. And for sex, which should be a bit of both if you’re doin’ it right.

Instead of “money”, as is the street term for currency, alligators exchange death. When alligators want something they get it. If they want it from something that won’t give it up, they kill that something. If an alligator doesn’t get what it wants, that’s because it’s dead.

That or it’s just changed its mind. Alligators are very fickle, you see. That’s the main difference between alligators and Japanese fighting beetles. A Japanese fighting beetle picks one happiness to pursue, and continues pursuing that happiness to the grave. Sometimes a Japanese fighting beetle will want something easy, like the recognition of its peers. Once it has that, it dies, having lived a short and pleasant life, culminating in a profound public speech, or award of some kind, or something like that. Sometimes a Japanese fighting beetle will want something difficult like a single cranberry from a specific kind of scone that only one family-owned shop in London sells. When Japanese fighting beetles want something this specific and complicated, they can live for up to 400 years, with a few reported, but unverified, cases living even longer.

But i’m not here to talk about Japanese fighting beetles. I’m here to talk about Alligators.
Where was I?

Alligators… Alligators…

Alligators change their mind fairly frequently. The only time a person has survived an alligator attack is when the alligator changed its mind mid-fight. Or mid-murder I should say. An unarmed man stands a snowball’s chance in hell against a fully-grown bulligator.
However, that same unarmed man stands an ember’s chance in heaven against a fully-grown cowligator, which sounds about the same, but is slightly better.

The trick is to watch the eyes.

An alligator’s eyes will fixate on the object of their desire until that object is obtained.

If you see an alligator’s eyes stray from any part of your body to any other object, you’ll probably survive the confrontation, or attempted murder; again, whichever you prefer to call it.

If you look in an alligator’s eyes, and he’s lookin’ right back into yours, you’re in for it brother. Better convert to the right religion in the next few seconds and shoot off a prayer or two.

If you look in the alligator’s eyes and see a dull, void, expression, like that of one Mr. Jeffrey Dahmer, then you’re outta luck and I can’t help you. Even praying won’t help you. What you’re actually looking at is a crocodile. Crocodiles’ll kill you for no reason at all, because crocodiles are apathetic. They have no ulterior motivations.

That’s the main difference between alligators and crocodiles.

Alligators coordinate with each other with an almost machine-like efficiency, as they work together towards the same goal. Alligators and machines are almost exactly the same, in fact.

To locate a pack with similar interests, an alligator will sift through corkboard postings and social-networking sites, until it finds the right group. Then the pack meets up and exchanges information. Afterwards, they perform a series of team-building exercises to inspire trust and loyalty, while simultaneously judging the strengths and weaknesses of each other. The trouble with all this is that alligators are fickle, so they’re constantly changing teams and packs- I’ve already told you that alligators are fickle?

Well then.

I didn’t mean to waste your time. Sorry about that. I don’t consider myself a time-waster. I’m just a simple man who likes to teach people about alligators.

For instance, alligators are hydrophobic. “Hydrophobic” means the queen alligators have snakes where their hair should be. And if you look into the eyes of the alligator queen, you turn to… I don’t know, jelly or somethin’. The point is: don’t do it.

This is the main difference between alligators queens and regular queens. And you’d better watch out, because unless there’s someone making eye contact and NOT getting turned into jelly or somethin’, you’d better just assume ol’ snake-hair standin’ over in the corner by herself is really an alligator queen and NOT the queen of England. Because there’s no sure way to tell from the back, you understand.

Alligators prefer eating men, statistically. I’m not sure why, but I don’t argue with science, and I’ll never argue with an alligator. Cross my heart, I won’t.

Alligator meat tastes like lizard. That’s the main difference between alligators and eagles. Eagles taste like cowardice.

If an alligator finds out that you’ve been eating alligator (it can smell, you understand), his alligator pack will go into “hunt” mode. They’ll locate the other members of that alligator’s “weak” pack and murder them in cold-blood. Don’t mistake my words; alligator’s are all cold-blooded. What i’m meanin’ to say that the hunter alligators will wait until the “weak” alligators are enjoying a nice family dinner or a friendly game of poker. Then the hunter alligators burst into the room and brutally murder all the “weak” alligators in a hailstorm of bullets from their tommy guns. It’s an extremely bloody, loud, and violent event.

How do I know so much about alligators?

That’s an interesting story. I once heard an alligator say my name. Now I can’t die and I think about them all the time. So you tell me what that means.

I also believe in other issues that are important, like immigration.
Immigration is about people. People who are immigrating, and people who live in the cities the people who are immigrating are immigrating to.
I will say right now that I firmly support people.

People are the key to our economy. So our economy is like a lock.
We have to open up our economy-lock and take the goodies inside.
What if the goodies are treasures like diamonds and golds?
Do we want to miss out on diamonds and golds?
I can relate to you, because I want an economy. Like you, I believe the economy is important.

Children are also important. They are precious, like diamonds.
But children are also soft. Children are soft diamonds.
Children and future. Peanut and butter.
We must care for our children. We must teach them that they are future.
They must grow up, true, but we cannot let them children grow up without future.
What kind of world has no children and no future?
Not a world I want to live in. Not a world for my children.
I am a fan of the tiny people we call children.

Foreign relations are also important.
America doesn’t live in the world alone. We know this.
We have to cooperate with foreigns. The world is large, but getting smaller.
Technology, foreigns, world- these all must be friends to do peace.
But some foreigns aren’t friendly. They must be dealt with as “enemies.”
We will use our friends, technology and world, to form a club where our enemies are not allowed until they become friends.
Then, and only then, will foreigns, technology, world, and America do peace together.
I am pro-friendship.

Oil and drilling.
This issue confuses people, and here’s why: oil is good, but drilling is bad.
We must drill to have oil. This is a classic case of doing something bad to get something good.
I love oil. I use it in my car to make it go.
I go to work every day with oil because I am an American.
I bet some of you use oil in your cars too. We are alike, you and I- Americans to the Texas T.
People who hate oil say that we should use green instead.
I say, why not make oil green? Why throw all the oil away, when it’s still perfectly good?
If we make oil green, everyone will be happy.
Let’s go green with oil!

But oil is not the only controversy. People talk a lot about gay, too.
They say gay marriage and gay rights.
I hear them.
Other people say straight. They say straight marriage and straight god.
I listen.
I am a listener who hears both sides when people talk. It is important to hear when people are talking.
I can promise you that I am a listener who truly hears.

So when you go for voting, remember:
Jon Clinkenbeard supports health and medicines.
Jon Clinkenbeard loves people and friendships and children.
Jon Clinkenbeard believes the economy is important.
Jon Clinkenbeard talks about the issues that matter.

He put the blacklight and spray bottle away on their shelf up above the leather case.
Then he killed the bulb and trudged back up the steps, closing the door behind him.
The news was on television now.
He flipped to another channel.
A movie was on; a movie he’d never seen all the way through, but had been meaning to watch.
Looked like he’d only missed a few minutes.
Ronald decided to watch it.

Bump-bump-bump!
Ronald jerked awake.
Someone was at the door.
Ronald got up out of his lounge chair and walked out of his living room.
He left the static-blaring television on, so he could see in the darkness.
Bump-bump-bump!
“I’m comin’! It’s late!”
He peered through the peephole to see how many police officers there were.
None.
No neighbours either.
Ronald figured they might be off to the sides of the door.
He quickly pulled his jackknife out of his back pocket, switched it open, and kept it clenched it in his hand behind his back.
With his free hand, he opened the door.
“Hello?! Who the hell’s banging on my damn door in the middle of the night?”
There was no one outside the door.
Ronald tentatively stepped out and peeked around the corners of his house, right and left.
He didn’t see anyone running in the distance or hiding nearby.
Ronald stood still for a moment and smelled the night air.
Nothing unfamiliar.
He turned and went back into his house.

Ronald lazily went towards the living room to turn off his TV and go to sleep.
Whump-whump-whump!
“Goddammit!”
He sprinted back to the door, knife at the ready, and flung it open.
The wind rustled the bushes gently.
A few leaves skittered on the sidewalk.
Ronald’s eyes narrowed.
He reached back into his house and turned off his porch light.
Then he shut the door and slinked off to his right, behind the large front bushes.
He waited patiently in the night with his knife open.
The wind blew again, drying his eyes.
Ronald didn’t blink.
He waited for at least 30 minutes, crouched and hidden behind his neatly-hedged bushes.
He waited another 30 minutes just to be sure the first 30 minutes was at least 30 minutes.
Nothing happened.
He listened so hard, he could hear the static on his television through the brick wall next to him.
He finally peered over the bushes and into the neighbourhood in front of him.
No lights on, except a few scattered porches.
Ronald narrowed his eyes again.
He decided to check completely around his house.
He crept slowly, knife drawn, behind the bushes that covered the corner of his house.
He made sure not to snap even the tiniest twig.
No one on the right side of his house so far.

He looked gently over his wooden fence, then pushed up on the metal latch slowly enough to keep it quiet.
He lifted the fence slightly as he opened it, so the hinges wouldn’t squeak.
Then he stopped for a moment and listened.
No sound.
He closed the fence gingerly and crouched down again.
He kept to the side of his house and moved forward.

The back door was ajar.
Ronald was absolutely sure he hadn’t left it open.
It was all part of his ritual.
He never missed a single step of his ritual.
He cursed silently and eased open the screen door an inch at a time.
It creaked gently, no matter how slowly he moved, but the way he was opening it would sound as natural as the wind.
Ronald entered the darkness of his home.

He smelled the air in his kitchen.
Nothing unfamiliar.
Ronald grimaced and began to chew on his lip.
It took ten full minutes for Ronald to close both back doors silently, one after the other.
He locked the deadbolt and listened for the intruder.
Silence.
Better safe than sorry.
Ronald went to the front door quietly.
It was still shut.
He locked the deadbolt and the chain silently.
All the little hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.
He realized that the television had been turned off.

His eyes grew wider.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead, then off his upper lip.
He wiped both hands on his jeans.
Ronald needed something better than this knife.
He needed to go downstairs and get his tools.
He slowly walked to the basement door.
It was already open.
He slid through and closed it behind him.
Now he was immersed in darkness.
He held his sweaty knife in his right hand, and slowly splayed his left hand out in the darkness.
If he felt anyone, he planned to grab them close and stab them again and again.

The air was cool and musty.
He walked down a stair, and felt around in the darkness.
He walked down another stair and repeated.
With every step, he felt more sweat gather on his brow.
He lost track of how far down he had come.
Surely he didn’t have this many steps.
He stopped feeling for a moment and listened.
Silence.
Nothing but the sounds of his lungs emptying and his neurons singing.
Ronald knew someone was down here.
He could feel them.
This was HIS room; his special place.
Just by being here, this person was violating his sanctuary.
He walked down another step, feeling in the darkness.
And another step.

He put his foot down gently again, but the floor shoved it back; he had finally reached the bottom.
Ronald hunched down, in case the intruder was also feeling around in the darkness.
More than likely, he was waiting; listening for any movement at all.
Listening for Ronald breathing.
Ronald held his breath
He waited, crouched with his hand out, in the ink of the basement.
He couldn’t hear anyone breathing, but the feeling was stronger than ever now.
Ronald was almost positive of where the man was.
The slightest noise meant his death.

Ronald moved silently along the right wall of the tiny room, shielding his body to the wall in case he was suddenly struck.
He felt in the air with his left hand for anything solid.
He finally felt the back right edge of the room.
His tools were in the other back corner, just a few feet away.
The man was either in the middle of the room, by his special little chair, or along the opposite wall.
Instinct would tell him not to stay in the corners.

Ronald took a step closer to his tools.
He paused to listen.
Someone else was breathing very very carefully in the middle of the room.
Ronald grinned.
He’d be able to get his tools.
He moved with patience, but confidence toward his leather satchel.
He felt the other corner of the room.
He gently reached up and felt for the handle of his long-bladed steel knife.
He was able to slide it out of its leather case without even a creak.
The breathing in the middle of the room grew faster.
Ronald felt his own heart beating more quickly.
He squared himself with the middle of the tiny room he knew and loved, and crept a step towards his favourite child-sized chair.

He stepped again silently, both arms closer to his body, ready to strike.
He was right behind the tiny chair now, poised and ready to strike.
Ronald heard the quickened breathing of the person right in front of him, and he leaned closer.
Ronald slowly raised his arms up and out into the blackness on either side of him, like a bat stretching its wings.

Like a flash, he swung his arms forward and stabbed both hands into the darkness.
His arms passed quickly through thin air; cold air.
He broke out in goosebumps as he retracted his hands through the freezing pool of nothingness sitting in the children’s chair.
Ronald distinctly heard a whimper, not six inches in front of him.
The very pit of his stomach froze and the hairs on the back of his neck curled upward.
Ronald heard soft crying as a violent pain broke into his left shoulder.
Instinctually, he arched his back and reached behind him.
One of his own knives was stuck through his shoulder up to the handle.
He pulled it out and realized with horror that it was the jackknife he thought he was still holding.
He felt another pain pierce through his belly.
He doubled over and pulled out his long-bladed steel knife.
He slashed through the air with both knives, striking nothing.
The cold spread from his wounds throughout his body.
He fell to the floor, realizing that his hands were both empty.
As the cold completely enveloped him, he heard his leather kit being opened.
He drooled blood onto the stone floor.
“Please… please don’t…”
No words.
Only breathing.
Upstairs, the television turned back on, filling the house with the sound of static.

The End

Why hasn’t anyone remade this???

Ok, picture this: rob zombie is putting on a concert.

Then birds start attacking, and the crowd is all scream-city and the audience is like “why are those birds attacking?”

And then rob zombie is like “everyone, follow me.”

And this cute girl, and her geeky little brother are all like “I guess we have no choice.” So they follow him into the secret concert-tunnel.

And he has a candle and he’s like “I’ve dealt with this before.”

And the geeky kid’s like “whatever.”

And rob zombie hits him up against the wall and he’s like “you think this is a game?”

And the kid’s like krap-his-pants-city.

So the girl says “what do we do now?”

And rob zombie cocks his shotgun and says “we pray,” but really he has a plan in mind that we will see later.

So the birds are all like pecking people’s eyes one minute and all chillaxin on the rooftops the next minute.

So people don’t know whether to freak out or not, so they freak out and some guy’s like a hero or something and he’s like “everyone be cool.”

And then he walks outside to test the birds, but it was totally a trap and they’re all like peck-city on his face.

Then rob zombie shows up, and people are like “mr. zombie, what do we do?”

And he’s like “we have to set off the bomb.”

The audience at this point is like “(gasp) what next?!”

So he tells them about this secret bomb that was put in place by an ancient civilization a long time ago in the past, and the girl’s like “how will we get to the lost city of the birds in Cairo?” (Cairo’s a real ancient city of the dead in Egypt with pyramids and shit, so people will be like “I’ve heard of that place. This is a good movie.”)

And the geeky kid brother suddenly remembers that he knows all about the ancient Romans, so he offers to take them there.

They take a boat, and have to use an anti-aircraft laser gun that they stole off a battleship in order to take out the birds who are attacking them on the way.

So they get to Cairo and everything seems real chillax, until they see this big swarm of birds in the sky like a thundercloud, and the laser gun jams and the birds swoop down like they’re going to attack, but then instead, they form up into one giant werewolf-bird, who swipes at them with his claws, which are made of bird beaks.

And rob zombie’s like “get outta here!” to the other two, and the girl kisses him. French-style.

Then she runs off and rob zombie has to shake his head a bit because it was such a good kiss, and he pulls out his axe, which turns out to be a real axe too!

The werewolf-bird hits him a lot and he’s really beat up, but then when rob zombie is all on the ground and he’s like totally toast that’s done for, we hear his song “more human than human” play and he turns to the werewolf-bird and his eyes are all lit up and blue and the audience is like “holy sh*t, what the F*ck, this is so awesome! I’m gonna tell everyone to come see this movie!”

So the big werewolf-bird swipes for a finishing blow, but rob zombie catches the bird-beak-paw in his hand and says “I don’t think so.”

And then he axes the head of the thing and it flies into a million birds, and they all explode red guts everywhere like rain.

Then he gets the other two and the girl’s like “what was that?” and he’s like “it’s a long story” and they go to the secret underground bird mummy tomb.

They make their way through a series of traps and the geeky kid almost eats it a couple of times, but then they get to this big wall with hiero-hero-hiro- with ancient Egyptian picture-words all over it, and the geeky kid’s like “I can read this.”

And he reads it and as he says things, a button comes out from the wall, that just looked like the eye of a cat before and rob zombie presses it and there’s this red shockwave that goes around the world, and we see everyone in a montage like “whoa.”

Then all the birds in the world are dead.

We see rob zombie and the girl making out, and we fade to a nest with three eggs in it, and one of the eggs starts moving a little, and then it cracks a little and the audience is like “oh no a baby bird! I’m seeing the sequel so HARD!” And then rob-zombie-music-credits!

(a tribute to Erik Blevins/Patton Oswalt)