The Robotic Redneck Reptile Roundup

Breakfast at Mo’s 5-Star Country Diner, Used Cars, Stump Removal, Friday Night Sushi Bar, Saturday Morning Fresh Cut Bait Tanning Emporium and Fast Tax Preparation ground to a halt when Larry “Hawgin'” Fishbreath walked in looking like a robot from a very bad science fiction movie.

Somehow, he snuck Sally Jane’s baking trays, frying pans and assorted pots out of the house and then taped all that to himself with enough duct tape to reach from here to Atlanta.

“Get up! We gotta get moving. Time’s a’wastin’,” he yelled at the Isabella Poker Club who had been eating Chef Lo Phat Ham’s (his parents are from Canada) finest morning meals.

“And do what?” asked Dr. I Ben Hurten, putting his fork down on the mound of cathead biscuits & gravy tall enough to hide small children.

Waving set of barbecue tongs screwed onto two rakes, Hawgin’ said, “We gotta go get some of them anniecondor snakes and them glue lizards that got loose in Georgia. They’s worth big money. I heard they’s good eatin’ too.”

Tegue lizards, which are huge, are in several Georgia counties now and giant South American snakes may be present here. 

Hawgin’ shoved the tongs at Mo behind the cash register. “Lookee! Done invented a giant snake and lizard catcher. This will grab ’em and hold ’em while I shove ’em in a burlap sack. Done seen how they do it in South Florida.”

“And the Mr. Roboto suit?” asked Peanut.

“Armor. Can’t not get snake bit wearing this. Them big lizards can’t bite through it either,” Hawgin’ replied, doing his impression of a ballerina twirl to show off his metallic suit.

The promise of riches and deep fried reptiles was enough to make the Isabella Poker Club inhale breakfast. Throwing money at Mo, we rushed out the door and climbed into our trucks, speeding away in different directions.

Five minutes later, we all returned to Mo’s parking lot.

From 10 different trucks came the same question. “Where are we going?”

“Uh.  I ain’t sure,” Hawgin’ said. “How about we try the Sink Hole?”

10 trucks again sped out of the parking lot.

3 hours later, covered with skeeter bites, poison Ivy and bleeding from hundreds of vampire briar attacks, the Isabella Poker Club climbed out of the Sink Hole. The giant snake catcher was shattered. Hawgin’s armor was in pieces.

Of giant snakes and lizards, none. Well. Not true. That one big alligator at the bottom of the Sink Hole objected severely to seeing a bunch of rednecks pop out of the woods next to its swimming hole.

Not sure what the swamp lizard is going to do with 2 rakes, but he has them.