Honor and the Alligator Club

Honor and the Alligator Club

By Erin M. Warren

     It was a late summer day in Panama City Beach, and I was up in my tree-house taking potshots at the imaginary soldiers and their monster friends that frequented the swamp behind our trailer. My BB gun was freshly stocked with a handful of the copper bullets that my Mom had bought for me from the local K-Mart. I imagined myself in the heat of battle, fighting off the hordes of evil bad guys that slinked from the swamp towards my fortress in the sky. My tree-fort provided an excellent view of the murky swamp that oozed not a hundred yards away. I suppose I was only ten to fifteen feet off of the ground, but it seemed to me that I was surely at least ten stories above the cactus and razor-palm covered ground.

     Suddenly, my imaginary radio crackled and a haggard voice of one of my fellow Alligator Club soldiers alerted me of an approaching army of Swamp Rats. They were coming from the north, and there was a bunch of them. I eased on to my stomach and raised the barrel of my BB Assault Rifle. I pumped the gun slowly, grimacing with determination. I knew those Swamp Rats were a crafty bunch, and they would surely try to sneak up on me. They would crawl on their bellies from the misty gunk, darting behind trees for cover. They were smooth operators, but I was smoother.

     I pulled out my trusty mini-binoculars and surveyed the offending swamp. It was green and mucky with spongy tufts of swamp grass scattered here and there. A few cypress trees sprouted from the wet grime, and they provided excellent cover for Swamp Rat soldiers that frequently emerged from the murky depths to charge my position. I spied one hiding behind a tree and unleashed a volley of the deadly copper balls. He was hit! He fell with a sploosh back into the swamp, and I saw him sink slowly away. No sooner than I had dispatched him, another group rose up from their hiding places and began to rush my lonely post in the sky. I pumped and shot furiously, but they kept on coming. I began to sweat a little as my shots seemed to bounce harmlessly off of them, and they kept getting closer. I knew that it was time for me to bring out the serious hardware.

     Luckily, I had saved a few grenades from the Fourth of July. I pulled one from my utility belt and lit it with the matches I had lifted from the kitchen junk-drawer. I threw it into the huddle of Swamp Rats far below. The grenade exploded with a satisfying thump down behind a large razor-palm, and I saw the bad guys thrown every which way in the chaos of fire and smoke. I had triumphed!

     I heard the door to our sun-faded yellow-white trailer open with a whoosh, “Erin, what are you doing up there, young man?”

     The remaining Swamp Rats slinked back to their nests at the sound of my Mom’s semi-annoyed voice.

     “Nothin’. Just protecting my territory,” I said with the seriousness of one who has just returned from war.

     “I heard a firecracker. What did we say about firecrackers?”

     “Yeah, I know, Mom. But I had to. They were almost to the ladder this time. I had to use a grenade,” I explained in earnest.

     “You’re going to lose your BB gun privileges if you keep disobeying our agreement. No using fireworks without Jim’s or my supervision. We had a deal, Erin.”

     Lose my BB gun? Then I would be defenseless. “Yeah-yeah, I know.”

     Even though she was a way’s away, I could see her give me that knowing-look of exasperation. My Mom always seemed to know what I really meant when I was trying to evade reality. I guess we had an understanding that I would say just about anything to get out of trouble.

     “Come on down from there, we’re going to K-Mart. I need to pick up a few things,” she said turning to shut the door.

     K-Mart! Going to K-Mart was about the best thing a kid could do on a Saturday. I hurried down the ladder and ran over to the porch. I unhooked my utility belt and laid it on the deck. My Mom turned to me and held out her hand, indicating in an unspoken way that she wanted me to hand her my BB gun. I flinched briefly as a flash of fear shot down to my toes that she was going to take my gun and put in her bedroom, away in the netherworld. Thankfully she just leaned it inside the door, its usual resting place. I breathed a sigh of relief.

     “I’ve got to get some laundry detergent and some light bulbs. This will be a quick trip,” she said as she closed the door again and locked it with a click.

     We walked over to our old, yellow Toyota with the rusty fenders and got in. As we pulled onto our long, shell-filled driveway, Mom asked me about my trip to the movies with L.J. and his parents last night.

     “Did you have fun last night?”

     “Yeah, we had popcorn and malted-milk balls. It was cool,” I said somewhat excitedly as we pulled out onto the highway.

     “What did you see?”

     “The Black Hole. It was cool; there was this big robot and stuff. It was neat.”

     “That’s good, I’m glad you had fun. Jim and I had fun over at the Rigby’s. We sat around a bonfire and talked. They’ve got to burn all that brush from the clearing of the land behind their house you know...” she rattled off in a manner-of-fact way. She continued to talk for a while, but I was engrossed with the giant Treasure Ship that we passed as we headed to the store. It was right on the water and seemed to be the biggest thing on the Miracle Mile. It was a monstrous brown thing that resembled a Spanish galleon and was filled with restaurants and gift shops, and it even had a casino. It amazed me that it could be packed with so much stuff. I thought about it all the way to K-Mart, but then the giant red letters of the fabled kid’s paradise came into view, and my attention was diverted.

     Once we entered the store, I did my usual split-and-run-meet-you-by-the-snack-bar routine and headed to my favorite location in K-Mart: the toy aisle. It was an incredibly long aisle of everything a kid could possibly want. There were guns, games, models, puzzles, balls, cars, army men, tanks, remote-control cars, swords, and action-figures, heck, there was everything. It was a magical land of plenty, where every kid, even if he was poor, could be the richest kid with all the toys he wanted. My imagination let me try out every toy like it was mine.

     Sometimes, if a kid’s Mom was feeling generous, he could actually get something from the tremendous selection of fun-waiting-to-happen. So I searched fervently, desperately trying to locate that certain toy that I could convince my Mom that I had to have. I flirted with the guns, then the army men. I didn’t really need a gun, and I still had a whole company of army men buried out in the driveway. Then I saw the most ultimate toy ever:

A Black Hole Maximillian Robot! I had just seen the movie, and here was the ultimate action-figure. It was a sleek maroon color, just like in the movie, and it had an awesome evil look about it. It would make an excellent addition to my collection of Star Wars figures. Yep, it was a must-have.

     I ran to find my Mom. She wasn’t at the snack-bar yet, so I high-tailed it over to the light-bulbs. She was there comparing prices on various bulbs. I ran up to her and let out a gasp, “Mom, can I get something?”

     “Slow down there Tex; don’t be running through the store like that, you’re going to run into somebody.”

     “Mom, can I get something,” I said with an edge of attitude in my voice.

     “No, we can’t afford to get something right now, and besides, you need to prove that you’re going to abide by our agreements before I’m going to reward you for your behavior, young man.”

     I felt my face flush as air gushed out of me and my voice turned inexplicably into a whine, “Come on, Mom, it’s a really cool thing, and I gotta get it. It’s cheap.”

     “No, Erin. Nothing today.”

     I turned and stomped off, angry as all-get-out. Why did she always not understand how important this stuff was to me? For a brief moment, I felt like I hated my Mom. It seemed like she was always saying ‘no’ at the most inappropriate times. I ran back to the toy aisle, pouting the entire way. For some masochistic reason, I went back over to the Maximillian Robot and stared at it long and hard. It was such a neat thing, all red and evil-looking. I decided right then and there that I had to have it.

     I looked around quickly, there was no one around. It seemed perfectly natural that no one was around when I decided to finally be a really bad kid and steal something. I’d never stolen anything before, but the Maximillian Robot seemed worth stealing. So, I looked around again, and seeing no one, I grabbed the package, ripped it open, and pulled out the Maximillian Robot. I stuffed it in the right-front pocket of my shorts and turned to head for the snack-bar.

     As I tried to walk casually, my heart pounded hard in my chest, and I was sure that everyone could see me walking with my chest leaping to and fro. I pulled my green ball cap down hard over my eyes with my left hand because my right hand was gripped firmly around the robot in my pocket. I felt like I was wearing a sign that said “I’m a thief!” As I rounded the last aisle, I saw my Mom waiting for me. I gulped and swallowed hard, this would be the most difficult part of the robbery: fooling my Mom.

     I didn’t say anything to her as we waited to be checked out. I figured she’d think I was still mad that she had said no. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything either. My heart continued to thump loudly and painfully in my chest, and I felt like I was sweating profusely. Here I was, flirting with prison for some toy. I was sure that a kid caught stealing went to prison. I’d never heard of it happening, but I was sure that it did. I kept thinking that my Mom would see the guilt pouring from my face, or the check-out person would smell the criminal-stink that oozed from my pores. I thought for sure that I was busted. For some strange reason though, we walked out of the K-Mart without incident.

     I ran to the car with my hand in my right pocket and waited eagerly to get in. It seemed to take my Mom forever to open the hatch-back and place the bag in. When she finally lifted the lock, I slid into my seat like lightning and closed the door. The whole way home we didn’t say a word to each other, and my stomach began to turn into an endless pit of guilt. I just stared out the window, thinking about what I had just done.

     When we got home, I ran off down the path into the brush and swamp-forest, trying to get as far away from my Mom as I could. I kept running until I was out of breath. I stopped by the over-turned tree covered with spongy moss that had fallen over the path a long time ago and rested.

     After I caught my breath, I pulled the Maximillian Robot out of my pocket and looked at it. It was damp with the perspiration of my little hand. It was a wet, evil-looking thing. I sat there for almost an hour staring at it until I heard my Mom calling me for dinner.

     That night I dreamt of bad things. I woke up in a cold sweat once, and I didn’t sleep well at all. All I could think about was going to prison for stealing an action-figure. It was a terrible prospect. I woke up that Sunday morning with a strange feeling that I couldn’t explain. I wolfed down a bowl of corn flakes and headed for my tree-house before either my Mom or Jim was up. Once there, I examined the Maximillian Robot very closely. I tried to play with it, but it wasn’t much fun. All I kept thinking about was how I stole it from the K-Mart, and if they ever caught me with it, I’d go to prison.

     I stayed up in my tree-house all morning trying to play with the red, evil-looking thing, but it was never fun. I started to think that my Mom would probably notice the extra red robot in my collection of action-figures. I was sure that one day she would ask me where I had gotten such a nasty-looking Maximillian Robot, and I would be forced to admit what I had done. And then I would have to be shipped off to prison in chains. My stomach churned with guilt all day, and I was beginning to feel sicker and sicker. I had committed a foul and heinous crime, and there was no way I could get away with it forever. I was doomed.

     After lunch, I went up to my tree-house and grabbed the red, evil-looking thing and climbed back down. I had my BB gun in one hand and the robot in the other as I headed down towards the swamp. I stood on the shore for awhile looking at the green, misty muck thinking about what I had to do. I looked at the robot in my right hand for one last time. I leaned my BB gun against a tree and stood to face the stinky swamp, and then I chucked that red, evil-looking Maximillian Robot as far out into the swamp as I could. It sailed up in a high arc and splooshed down into the grime. I saw a turtle, or a snake, swim away from the small waves that circled out from my sinking criminal gain.

     I turned, picked up my gun, and headed back towards my tree-house with a satisfying feeling sweeping over my guilt-laden stomach. It seemed fitting to give the evil-looking thing to the Swamp Rats. They were the criminals, not me. As I climbed up into my sanctuary in the sky, I felt sure that I could once again face my Mom, and perhaps more importantly, I could face myself. I had done the right thing and restored my honor, and I could, once again, proudly call myself: Leader of the Alligator Club.