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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required As I watch the rain coming down in measured bursts onto the dark waters of the vast bayou. My mind notes the watery circles and bubbles that trace alligators asleep in the slough. I check my lines as the sun goes down. The wind fights me at every turn, causing my boat to rock. I've got three dead gators in the skiff. For cash, I'll trade them when my boat shimmies up to the dock. I snooze and wake to find that my boat has drifted to the bank where a bait line is stretched taut. Thrashing sounds in the water let me know this one's big. Grabbing my gun, I aim for a sure shot. It happens not. The muscular creature slips under the boat, then tugs on the line till he's free. He crawls to land! I jump from the boat! Etched in my mind is, 'It must be Big Mel. This one's for me.' I track him through sodden grasses, cracked twigs, fetid mud, until at the end, his swath disappears. It's getting dark and I must return. Getting lost in a woods full of gators stokes my fears. I arrive at the skiff, stepping carefully over gators and sad at losing Big Mel's gain. Suddenly, Big Mel lunges from hiding and clamps down on my leg. At first, I can't feel the pain. In the brisk of a minute, pain shoots through my body. My leg, as if on fire, feels burning hot. Thank God for my rifle. Though trembling, I grab it and aim, bringing down Mel in a single shot. One dead gator and one almost dead man! My mangled leg gushes blood as I get to the pier. "Big Mel got me" , I yell, as I'm pulled from the boat. Willie gives me first aid, but is the end near? Willie is my friend through and through, and he drives me to the hospital in his new seafood van. The guys on the dock take care of my gators. In fact, Big Mel ended up in a gumbo pan. The years have gone by as I retell this story. "Grandpa, tell it again" my grandkids still beg. But the last time that I told it, the youngest one said, "Grandpa, Is that how you lost your left leg?"
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