Meanwhile, way far away from where the car lot was, in fact deep in the Louisiana bayou there was a woman hard at work wrestling an agitated gator. It was her duty to calm the gators and relocate them and keep people safe from them.
There were many houses on the water and many of the gators scared most of the folk that lived in them. That was why they had hired her most of the time. She was a born and raised gator wrestler. She had wrestled her first gator when she was 10 years old and even made a pair of skin boots from it.
Those boots in which she still has till this very day. Water splashed all over her face and body, soaking her blouse and clothes. The gator would hiss and growl as her arms wrapped around his snout, preventing it from snapping its jaws.
The woman had managed to get some rope around the gator’s mouth and then tied a thick knot to clamp its mouth shut permanently. She would then reach for her belt for a syringe and stabbed it into the creature’s belly.
She injected the medicine into the gator that would knock him out in seconds. The woman sighed heavily and whipped her brow with all the sweat that was dripping from her forehead. She had called for help to load the gator into the boat and have him properly moved.
Once that was all said and done, she herself had retired for the night. The young woman was physically exhausted once she had entered her small log cabin. She closed the door behind her and then locked the deadbolt. She looked around herself curiously.
Written by Dalkr Moonfire Wolf on 27 March 2018