What a marriage! From acimony to alimony in six months flat. An alligator ate their dog. There was a parrot, whose only phrase was "Fuck you, Frank, fuck you, Frank." After she left he took to drinking, a fifth of vodka a day. Sitting in the backyard with a high-powered rifle, waiting for the alligator to come back.
He blamed the state of Florida. It was his idea of a bad idea, and by that he meant the whole damn state. There was a For Sale sign in the front yard. But nobody was buying, what with the real estate slump and the alligators and the not-so-distant roar of the traffic going from nowhere to nowhere on the causeway.
He ate frozen pizza every single night. Alone at the kitchen table, or standing by the patio window, on the lookout for the alligator. It was her dog, a tiny chihuahua with a mean streak. One minute it was yapping in the backyard and then it wasn't, and there was an alligator sauntering back to the canal, belching. They should have put up a fence but there wasn't time, between the swearing and dish throwing.
He wanted her back, that was the amazing thing. He even wanted the parrot back. Sometimes at night he would look at himself in the bathroom mirror and say, "Fuck you, Frank. Fuck you, Frank."
UF Mike
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