My Dad's Got an Alligator!

by Jeremy Strong

  Mum’s eyes were on fire. She bellowed up the stairs at Dad. It was all his fault. She said she knew that Dad should never have brought it home. Dad came rushing down in his dressing-gown. ‘Just a moment,’ he said to Mr Tugg. ‘How do you know it’s our alligator?’

  Good question, Dad! Mr Tugg didn’t think so though. He began to do one of his very-loud-firework impressions. ‘This is the only house in the street with a pet alligator!’ he fizzed. ‘It’s probably the only house in the country with a pet alligator. Of course it’s yours. Don’t think I haven’t seen it from over the fence, making a pig of itself with cans of dog food.’

  Dad folded his arms. ‘Making a pig of itself, Mr Tugg? How can an alligator make itself into a pig? What an extraordinary creature!’

  ‘Don’t bandy clever words with me!’ crackled Mr Tugg. ‘The alligator is yours. If you don’t come and remove it at once I shall call the police!’ Mr Tugg fizzled off down the garden path.

  My dad doesn’t take anything seriously, except making jokes. He’s a dedicated joker. There are times when I wish the ground would swallow me up or I lived on another planet. He went back inside the house and came back wearing flippers on his feet and goggles and a snorkel on his face.

  He flip-flopped into the Tuggs’ garden. Mr Tugg was speechless. Dad waved at him, held his nose, and waded into the garden pond singing ‘We all live in a yellow submarine…’

  Crunchbag is not terribly big, but he is very wriggly and strong. His tail can be really wicked. He knocked Dad

  over five times. It was a real wrestling match, like Tarzan, except Tarzan doesn’t wear pyjamas. (Or goggles, or flippers, or a snorkel…)

  I cheered, but Mr Tugg looked at me so coldly I felt as if an iceberg had just fallen on me. We hauled Crunchbag back to our house, leaving Mr Tugg crouched over his pond, staring into the depths. I don’t think there are any goldfish left.

  7 Bubble Bath

  Dad reckons Crunchbag is desperate for water and that was why he chewed his way out of the tyrannosaurus leg. Mum told him he would have to sort out something better for Crunchbag or she would leave home. She said her suitcase was all ready. ‘All I have to do is pack it.’

  Dad told her not to worry. He’s always saying that. It didn’t work anyway, because half an hour later there was a blood-curdling scream from the bathroom.

  Mum stood at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a towel and howling. ‘Ronald! How could you! I was just about to get into the water when I saw this massive pair of jaws opening. IT WAS SMILING AT ME!’ she screamed. ‘Get it out, Ron; out, out, out!’

  She actually hit Dad with her face-flannel. Crunchbag lay in the bath and watched all this with his yellow slitty eyes.

  Then he ate all the soap and my plastic boat. Mum was so upset she had a drink of brandy, and then another.

  ‘I only put him there to keep him out of mischief,’ explained Dad.

  ‘Mischief!’ Mum almost choked on her brandy. ‘Putting him in my bath is keeping him out of mischief?’

  ‘I’m sorting out a new cage for him. I had to put him somewhere. Besides, Crunchbag needs water.’

  ‘Oh yes, and I suppose he needed all the Tuggs’ goldfish too?’ cried Mum. ‘He ate fifteen prize goldfish this morning! It’s not good enough, Ron, I won’t have any more of this. Look at him – he’s a monster! Either he goes, or I do!’

  All eyes turned to Crunchbag in the bath. Large soapy bubbles were coming out of the side of his mouth. He was wearing that silly grin of his. ‘I bet his teeth are nice and clean,’ said Dad.

  8 Anyone for a Picnic?

  Mum is never cross with Dad for long. I think things are exciting when Dad is around and Mum likes the excitement – like today. We went for a picnic. Dad said that Crunchbag must have water and, since Mum didn’t like sharing her bath with an alligator, Dad thought we could drive down to a river and have a picnic at the same time.

  ‘But where are we going?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Down to Shoreham village. There’s a good shallow river there. Nicholas can paddle about if he wants and there are plenty of fields where we can picnic. The sun’s shining. It will be great.’

  I thought it sounded wonderful. Mum gazed out of the window. She was watching Crunchbag roaming round his new cage. ‘I’m not sharing the car with Mega-Jaws out there.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Dad. ‘Leave it to me.’

  We took the picnic-box outside. Dad was standing by the car. ‘Ta-ra!’ he shouted, stepping back. He had just finished tying Crunchbag to the roof-rack! He did a

  little song and dance: ‘I’m a clever chappie, and I’m very happy; There’s a ‘gator on the roof and I’m telling you the troof…’

  Mum got into the car, keeping a careful eye on Crunchbag, and off we went. Shoreham isn’t far from where we live.

  We found a field by the river and sat down with the picnic. It was very peaceful. There was a field of cows chewing the grass on the opposite bank, and bees buzzing about – just the sort of thing you’d expect really. Dad took Crunchbag off the roof-rack and tied him to a nearby tree, but as soon as we had finished eating, Dad announced he was going to take Crunchbag for a swim.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Mum.

  ‘He’ll love it,’ Dad said, tying a long piece of rope round Crunchbag’s neck. He led the alligator down to the water.

  Love it? Crunchbag went bonkers over it! He loved it so much he went zooming off

  at hyper-speed, towing Dad behind. For just a few seconds Dad managed to keep up, then he fell flat on his face by the riverbank.

  Dad’s yells turned to spluttering gurgles as Crunchbag trawled Dad through the river. It wasn’t a deep river, but it was a wet river, full of straggly waterweed. They

  came out on the muddy bank on the far side. It was at that point that Dad finally gave up and let go of the rope.

  9 Stop That Alligator!

  Crunchbag went wandering off into the cows’ field, leaving Dad face-down in river-gunge. It might have been all right if there hadn’t been any cows in the field. I don’t know if Crunchbag was hungry or if he was simply interested.

  The cows took one look at this alligator clomping towards them and then there was this sort of cow-explosion, with cows mooing and bellowing and leaping about all over the place. Crunchbag was right there in the middle, with his jaws going snip-snap.

  Dad struggled to his feet like

  some monster from the deep, festooned with slimy weed, and started squelching around trying to calm all the cows down. Mum stood on our side of the river and screamed.

  ‘Stop them, Ronald! Stop them before all their milk curdles!’

  Then the farmer appeared with a shotgun! He roared at Dad, telling him to ‘keep that pesky dog under control’.

  He must have been blind! Dad threw himself on Crunchbag and they had another of those massive Tarzan fights, which Dad eventually won. Unfortunately he was not only covered in river muck by this time, but also some rather unpleasant stuff that you get in cow-fields.

  The farmer was speechless as he watched Dad wade back across the river towing an alligator. He started running back to the farmhouse. I suppose he wanted witnesses.

  Dad lashed Crunchbag to the roof-rack. ‘Get in,’ he growled. ‘We’re going home.’

  ‘Just a moment,’ said Mum. ‘You’re not sitting in the car in that state. Look at you! You pong to high heaven. You can sit in the boot and I shall drive.’

  Dad didn’t believe her. I did. She opened the boot and Dad had to climb in and sit there. She was quite right. He was a stink-bomb. Mum and I got in the car and she drove home.

  Halfway home we heard a police siren getting louder and louder. I looked behind and saw a police car coming up behind us at top speed. It wasn’t us they were after because

  we weren’t doing anything wrong. Mum slowed down to let them pass. They went squealing ahead of us, lights flashing, and immediately pulled us over. Us! Mum stopped the car and we watched one of the p
olice officers slowly get out of his car. He pulled down his helmet, straightened his tie, tugged both sleeves neatly, got out his notebook and sauntered over to us.

  The policeman started to write all this down, then gave up in despair. He tore out the page and waved us on. I suppose he thought nobody would believe him – like the farmer. Quite right too. After all, how many people take their pet alligator swimming in the local river?

  10 Hunt the Granny

  Crunchbag escaped again last night. I never knew alligators could dig tunnels. He’s been really busy. There are piles of earth everywhere.

  Dad was at work when we discovered he was missing. Mum got into a right panic. She rushed back indoors and got the walking-stick with the barbecue fork on the end. I don’t know how she thinks she’s going to defend herself with that!

  She set about poking and prodding the bushes, but she couldn’t find him. She sent me to make sure that Granny was all right. ‘Shut her door tight,’ Mum warned. ‘We don’t want her having a heart attack because she’s had an alligator trying to get into her bed.’

  I went off to Granny, and guess what?

  I searched high and low.

  I even looked in the but what Granny would have been doing in there I don’t know. I reported back and gave Mum the news.

  Talk about hysterics! She threw her hands up in the air and dashed into the house screaming, ‘Mother! Mother! Where are you?’ She looked in all the places I had already thought of, but there was no doubt that we were Granny-less.

  Mum came downstairs very slowly, her face like a dentist’s patient. She stared at me with huge eyes. ‘She’s been eaten. It’s that alligator. I know it’s that alligator, Nicholas! Dad should never have brought it into the house. Crunchbag has escaped and he’s eaten Granny. He must have smelt her.’

  I suppose he could have smelt her because Granny whiffs strongly of Tandoori Chicken Tikka, which is her most favourite meal of all time.

  ‘Surely there’d be blood somewhere, or bits of clothing,’ I suggested. Mum held out one hand. She was holding Granny’s spectacles. One of the arms was twisted and broken.

  I still thought there ought to be some blood somewhere. ‘I mean, you can’t chew up a whole person without blood squirting out a bit, can you?’ I said helpfully. Mum clutched at the stairs.

  ‘Don’t say such awful things!’ she cried. ‘It’s your granny we’re talking about.’

  Mum decided to telephone the police. ‘We can’t have a man-eating alligator roaming the streets,’ she said. I pointed out that it wasn’t a man-eater, it was a granny-eater. I wish I hadn’t. Mum turned on me, almost in tears.

  ‘That’s right, make a joke of it just like your father! This is serious, Nicholas, serious!’

  I suppose she was right. She picked up the phone and was just dialling, when Granny walked in through the front door. Mum just about fainted. The phone fell from her fingers. At last a small, broken voice came from her throat. ‘Are you a ghost?’

  ‘Burning toast?’ Granny said, sniffing the air. ‘No, I can’t smell any burning toast, can you, Nicholas?’

  ‘No, Granny,’ I smiled, hugging her. Mum came to life and rushed over. She was all over Granny. She kept hugging and touching her to make sure she was real. ‘Where have you been? I was so worried.’

  ‘Yes, dear, I think it’s going to rain. You can put me down now.’

  Mum and I looked at each other. I shook my head and muttered ‘deaf as a doorpost’ to Mum. Then she saw Granny’s shopping bag. There was a video in it, So that was where she had been – up to the video shop! At least she’s been found, which is more than I can say about Crunchbag. He’s still out there somewhere.

  11 A Ride on the Wild Side

  Boy oh boy! The Martians from next door were in a jumbo rage today. Mr Tugg has been charging round like a rogue elephant half the afternoon. I even heard Mrs Tugg mutter ‘it’s awful’ at one point, which is truly amazing because I have never heard her speak before today. (This is probably because Mr Tugg says enough for ten people at once.)

  The first warning we had was from Dad. ‘The Martians are coming! Quick, fetch me my catapult…’

  As soon as Dad opened the front door Mr Tugg seized him furiously by one arm and began dragging him down the path.

  ‘Look!’ he bellowed. ‘Just come and look!’

  ‘I am looking,’ panted Dad. ‘Is this a game of I Spy?’

  Mr Tugg stopped instantly and glared so closely into Dad’s face that Dad had to lean backwards to avoid being stabbed by Mr Tugg’s beaky nose. ‘Don’t you dare make jokes about this! This is it! It’s the end! I’ve had enough, do you hear? Enough!’

  Dad tried to calm him down. ‘I can see you’re a bit upset, Mr Tugg.’

  This made things even worse. For a few seconds Mr Tugg was speechless. You could see the volcanic explosion struggling to reach the surface of his face. Then he erupted.

  ‘Upset? I’m fuming! I’m furious! I’m livid!’ His arms were going up and down and he was walking round and round in small circles.

  ‘But just what is the matter?’ asked Dad.

  ‘Follow me,’ commanded Mr Tugg, and he led the way round to his house.

  Parked outside was a Road Rescue van. The Tuggs’ car was strapped on the back. It’s one of those three-wheeler things. It looked rumpled, crumpled and sad. It was covered in dirt and bits of plants. The

  front end looked as if it had been a very bad loser in a boxing match.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Dad. ‘You have had an accident. I hope no one was hurt?’

  ‘My car’s been hurt!’ wailed Mr Tugg. ‘It’s a wreck, a write-off. And do you know why my car looks like…like…like…this?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mr Tugg, but I have a feeling that you are going to tell me.’

  Mr Tugg eyed Dad as if he wasn’t sure if he was being laughed at or not. He tried to smooth his few extra-long hairs back over his bald patch.

  ‘This morning Mrs Tugg and I decided we would go for a drive in the country.’

  ‘Nice day for it,’ agreed Dad.

  ‘Yes, it was a nice day and off we went. The sun was shining…’

  ‘It still is,’ Dad pointed out cheerfully.

  ‘Don’t interrupt!’ bawled Mr Tugg. ‘This is my story!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Dad murmured.

  ‘The sun was shining. We were travelling down this lovely country lane. I looked out on one side and saw birds singing in the bushes. I looked out on the other side and saw butterflies fluttering about. I looked in my rear-view mirror. And what do you think I saw?’ Mr Tugg paused dramatically.

  ‘A squashed hedgehog?’ suggested Dad.

  ‘I SAW AN ALLIGATOR! THERE WAS AN ALLIGATOR SITTING IN THE BACK OF MY CAR! ITS TEETH WERE THIS CLOSE TO MY HEAD! ITS JAWS WERE WIDE OPEN!’

  Mum’s hands flew to her face. ‘Oh, Mr Tugg! What did you do?’

  ‘I DROVE OFF THE ROAD!’ screamed Mr Tugg, pointing at his three wheeler. ‘I went through a hedge and hit a tree!’

  For the first time, Dad actually looked really worried and he clutched Mr Tugg’s arm. ‘But what about Crunchbag? Is he all right?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mr Tugg answered with dangerous calm, then exploded once more. ‘Look at my beautiful car!’ He ran to the three-wheeler and hit it with his fists. A wing mirror fell off. ‘Look at it! It’s a wreck! My lovely car!’

  Dad was already getting Mum’s mountain bike out of the garage. ‘I must go and find Crunchbag. He may be hurt. Don’t worry about the car, Mr Tugg. The insurance company will cover the damage.’ And before anyone could say anything else Dad had wobbled off down the road pedalling furiously and shouting, ‘Crunchbag! Crunchbag!’ at the top of his voice.

  That left poor Mum (and myself!) to cope with Mr and Mrs Tugg. I don’t know how she managed it. She does have to put up with a lot. The last thing we wanted to deal with was the next-door Martians, but she did. She made a pot of tea and got them calmed down. They went away pea
cefully enough, but Mum’s done in. She just collapsed into an armchair and stared straight ahead. I’m sure she muttered something about becoming a nun. I don’t know what to do to help.

  And what about Crunchbag? I wonder if he’s all right? The Tuggs had seatbelts on, so they were OK, but cars don’t have seatbelts for alligators. He may be injured. I think I’ll make Mum a cup of tea. Maybe I’ll have one myself. On the other hand perhaps I’ll just help Mum pack her suitcase. I think I might join her. Can nuns keep their sons?

  12 The Mad Cyclist

  Crunchbag has been missing for three days and Mum seems to have recovered completely. It’s weird, because all the time Crunchbag was here she was nervous and worried, while Dad was all jokey and cheerful. Now it’s the other way round. Mum has started using Dad’s karaoke machine. She’s got a better voice than Dad. I almost feel like joining in.

  I’ve hardly seen Dad. He spends all his spare time riding round the neighbourhood on his bike shouting for the alligator. One of the ladies from further up the road came round yesterday to ask if