Yesterday was a weird day, although it started off like any other day. I awakened at 6:02 am only to find that my iguana got out of his cage… again. I don’t know how he does it, he must be some kind of magical iguana, which would make sense since I got him at “Edner’s Magical Imports from Uruguay,” except Mr. Edner assured me he was just your normal run-of-the- mill iguana. I guess I’m the donkey who believed him. It’s a known fact that anyone who runs a magic shop shouldn’t be trusted, and Mr. Edner was no different. So, after chasing Gio the Iguana (pronounced Ji-Oh) around for 34 minutes I felt weak and had to get something to eat. I looked out my window and saw a watermelon patch over at my neighbor Lester’s yard. Lester and I don’t get along, i’m not sure why, maybe it’s because I stole his lamp, or maybe it’s because I accidently urinated on his truck, but he should know how I get after drinking a bottle of Goldschlager, it’s never a pretty sight. At this point my stomach was growling so much I felt like a lion, or maybe a cheetah, yeah, probably a cheetah because then I’d be able to run pretty damn fast. I got up and took myself and my cheetah instincts over to Lester’s watermelon patch, he’d never notice if I picked just one, he had about 784 melons over there.
As I slowly approached his property I saw his pet emu named Hernal outside staring at me, “damnit,” I thought to myself “If Hernal see’s me he’s bound to tell Lester what’s going on.” I had to think faster than a cheetah runs, so I frolicked over to Hernal and gave him a big hug, acting like I came over primarily to pay him a friendly visit. “What’s up?” asked Hernal, although I could tell by his tone he didn’t seem to care. “Not too much,” I said trying to formulate a plan. It’s a well known fact that emu’s like poker, especially of the Texas Hold Em’ variety so I told Hernal I was about to go to my buddy Gary’s house to play a few games. “Yeah?” said Hernal, I could see the saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth, “You.. uh.. you mind if I come too? I haven’t seen Gary in forever and a day.” I knew he wasn’t too interested in Gary, they were never close, but I also knew this was the perfect way to get Hernal away from the patch of the “juicy delights,” as watermelons like to be called.
We took my VW Bus to Garys house, I called him on the way and told him to start setting up a poker game. He resisted at first, but after I reminded him of the time I bailed him out of jail for impersonating a crocodile in a tank of seamen training for a schooner race he caved and cooperated. We arrived at Gary’s house at 10:20am, he had the table all set up and had prepared some snacks for us. I couldn’t help noticing the fresh squeezed orange juice sitting on the poker table next to Garys chicken. “Hey Gary,” I said “Why did you leave your chicken on the poker table?” “Eggs,” replied Gary as he poured me a glass of milk from a pitcher. “I wanted orange juice,” I said with a hint of frustration in my voice. At this point Gary lost it and threw the pitcher of milk at me, missing my head by a few feet. Gary had pretty bad aim for a retired marksman. I figured this would be my perfect chance to escape. I would leave Hernal with Gary and go back to Lester’s watermelon patch just before he got off his night shift at the 24 hour Stop in Shop in Brooklyn. “Hey Hernal,” I said, “I’m gonna head out.” Hernal didn’t even say goodbye, I don’t even know why I bother with him but at least I got him out of the way.
I hopped into my VW bus and looked at the time, it was 10:34am and I started getting nervous. Lester gets off work at 10:30am and it takes him about 7 minutes to get home, I was 8 minutes away, I put the peddle to the metal and started racing towards Lesters. I didn’t go 2 inches when I saw flashing lights in my rearview mirror. “Damnit, I really can’t afford to get pulled over,” I thought as I pulled to the side of the road. I saw the cop get off his horse and start walking over to me. This is when I decided to make a break for it, I floored the gas and high-tailed it outta there, leaving the cop and his mustang in the dust.
I pulled up to Lester’s house and jumped out of my VW. As I hopped over the fence I saw the mustang approaching, I was surprised the cop caught up with me so fast but I guess they don’t call em’ mustangs for nothing. I reached down, grabbed the first melon I saw and ran for my VW. As I hopped back over the fence Lester ran out with a shot-gun, he threatened to shoot but I didn’t believe him, Lester wouldn’t hurt a camel, let alone his favorite neighbor, so I figured I’d be fine. I was right, Lester wouldn’t shoot me, but that didn’t stop the cop from beating me with his baton. The swift blow to my head propelled the watermelon from my arms as it crashed into the ground, causing watermelon guts to fly everywhere. Seeing this the cop walked over, picked up a piece of mutilated melon, and started eating it in front of my face. As I lay on the ground watching the cop mock me like a bird, I couldn’t understand how things got so complicated. All I wanted was a piece of watermelon. After finishing what could only be described as the most luscious melon ever, the cop flipped me over, threw some handcuffs on my wrists, and tossed me on the back of his horse. All that was left for me to do was sit on that horse, bumping along down to the station, unable to shake that feeling of hunger.
