Swamp Relations

In the dark murky waters of a French influenced swamp there was a royal rumble brewing when the Angel family was ready to feel the effects of their foggy landscape.

“Mr. Angel,” she stated, “you are out of the money.”

Looking up from the kitchen table the Father to the Angel family watched the blonde’s blue eyes who was such a blessing months ago when his son Prize married her in a celebration that made the social scene section of the rural area newspapers.

Picking up the luggage labeled ‘hers’ in the pile of wedding gifts the present obtained from a good catch that summer seem to be a fitting to the croc situation.

Nearly tripping over the baby gator who was blocking the doorway the young girl stared at the little lizard, “The only time was on the first night we spent together after our vows.” Hearing that the cuddly creature let her pass and watched the first-year wife go into a breakaway dash while Mr. Angel went to the sink.

“Junior,” Angel screamed, “Oh, I mean Prize can you come down here, please?”

Coming down the flight of stairs Prize could see something was wrong, “So Dad, what was my fair maiden claiming”

“Son,” Mr. Angel gave him a stare, “that young lady you met at Corona’s disco told me she’s leaving you tonight.”

“Excuse me,” Prize exclaimed about his lifelong partner who after Corona’s disco was knocked off the board said I do when his name was suddenly in lights.

“She was not taking the fact we were out of the money very well,” an honest look was on Mr. Angel’s face.

“What do you mean she left since we were out of the money,” was the response, “first Dad you do not have an option to start claiming things.”

“I was not claiming things Prize, I was chargin n leavin and look at the desk over there things get lost.”

“You didn’t pay the credit card bill,” Prize filled in an answer.

“Well, son we are out of the money.”

“Are you happie happie happie!” Prize stormed out the door.

Later that night as Mr. Angel had a book open to his favorite chapter there was a knock on the door. When he answered a back woods police officer was holding two bags.

“Sir we found these,” he held up two bags, “Is this Prize Angel?”

Looking at the decapitated head he confirmed that it was his son.

“And what about this?” The other bag was shown in the light.

“Yup, that’s Jr’s runaway princess,” Mr. Angel identified the remains.

“Thank you,” the back woods police officer said before leaving the property

After closing the door Mr. Angel saw the baby gator lying on the bed, “I guess your grandmother was really angry that your parents were getting separated.”

Comments