CHAPTER ONE
Well, you see, it all started like this. A little scrap of a chameleon, no bigger than a minute, hatched out of his shell. He was the tiniest piece of nothing you ever did see. His Mama looked down at him and sighed, “Such a puny little fellow. What to call him? How about Tyrone? There’s a good name for you to grow into, son.”
Just then, Tyrone’s sister wiggled her way out of her shell. She stretched herself, flicking off a piece of shell that had stuck to her shoulder, and said, “Oh, that’s better. I was getting mighty cramped in there.” She looked up at Mama and blinked her big, beautiful eyes.
“Oh my, my,” Mama said. “This little girl is just too beautiful to behold. I’m going to name her LaBelle because she is so pretty.”
“Well, children, let’s go find some nice mealy worms for your breakfast. I declare, Tyrone, you’re going to have to eat a pile of ‘em before you amount to anything.”
Tyrone hitched himself up and trotted along after Mama and LaBelle, thinking to himself, “I was just borned, and already I got problems. This ain’t going to be easy.”
Now I must tell you Tyrone lived on the Bayou at a little rise in the ground just before you get to the place in the swamp where the river makes a dogleg turn to the right. The place is called Gnarly Tree Bend. You know of it, I’m sure.
It was a lovely place for a chameleon to grow up, and Tyrone was doing the best he could. But he was still kind of puny, and the other critters really didn’t want him to hang out with them. Like when they chose sides to play a game of baseball, no one wanted to choose Tyrone to play on their team. “He’s too slow. He can’t hit far enough. He can’t catch the ball,” they’d say. So, when he wasn’t in school, Tyrone spent a great deal of the time by himself.
Tyrone’s most favorite spot in all of Gnarly Tree Bend was Sun Rock. Most every afternoon when school was out and Saturdays, you could find him there. I don’t know if you have ever seen it in your travels, but it is just about the most perfect place in the world for a chameleon to sun himself, and not be bothered by just about anything at all.
Sun Rock was an almost perfectly round rock, flat on top, rather like a pie plate, and situated about a number 12 shoe size out into the river. The bank gradually sloped down into the water and was fairly shallow out to the rock. Now Tyrone knew how to swim and could have swum out to his rock if he had had to. Actually, the water was shallow enough that he could have waded out most of the way.
But the glory of it was he didn’t have to. There were three small stones placed just so and so and so between the river bank and Sun Rock. Tyrone could hop from one to the other to the other and up onto Sun Rock without even getting his toes wet.
Oh, this was heaven. Stretched out on his rock, with the sun warming his chameleon skin, away from everything, on his own private island. “I’m King of the Rock!” he hollered as he stood at the edge with his arms up as high as he could reach.
Except, except Tyrone didn’t always want to be alone so much. He said out loud, “I want to be with the other guys, laughing and clowning around and doing stuff. I want to play baseball and hit a homer. I want to catch a pop fly over first base. I want to…”
CHAPTER TWO
“Then why don’t you?” a voice from the direction of Gnarly Tree said. “What!” Tyrone yelped looking all around. “Where are you?” “I’m up here in the branch hanging over the water.” Tyrone looked up at the branch almost reaching Sun Rock. “I don’t see anything but tree branches and leaves,” he said curiously. “Look closer,” said the voice.
Tyrone focused his eyes on the branch and sure enough he could just about make out a grey squirrel lying flat on top of the branch. If you didn’t look real close you would never have made the squirrel out. He was so still he blended in with the grayish limb.
“Hi,” said the squirrel in a pleasant but rather squeaky voice. “What are you doing up there?” asked Tyrone angrily. He was mad the squirrel had been up there spying on him without his even noticing it. It made him feel funny knowing someone had been watching him. “What makes you think you can listen in on someone else’s private conversation,” Tyrone whined, pouting.
“Oh, excuse me Mr. Sensitive,” the squirrel replied mockingly. “I didn’t realize this was your private domain.” Then he said with a laugh. “Why don’t we start over? I’ll introduce myself, and you can tell me who you are. My name is Josiah Pendergast II, but you can call me Junior.”
“How do you do Josiah Pendergast the second, but you can call me Junior,” Tyrone replied teasingly. After his initial shock that someone else was in his world, Tyrone was actually quite pleased that he had a friend to talk to. “My name is Tyrone the first. The one and only.” “Pleased to make your acquaintance Tyrone the first, the and only,” replied Junior.
“Just hold on a minute old man while I come down, and we’ll see what can be done about your problem.” Junior scampered down Gnarly Tree and sat on the ground, crossing his legs and folding his arm behind his head as he leaned back against the tree trunk. “There we are,” he said, “Now I can think.”
“So, as I see it, and correct me if I am wrong. You are puny and underweight and none of the guys want you on their team. Is that it in a nut shell, so to speak?”
Tyrone turned an embarrassed shade of pink all over (after all he is a chameleon) and with downcast eyes and a snuffy catch in his voice replied, “Yes, I guess that is about the long and the short of it.”
“Well, my good man,” said junior in a very confident voice. “There seems to be but one solution to your problem. And I, the solver of problems both great and small am about to reveal it to you.”
“Oh please do, please do,” cried Tyrone in great anticipation. “Please don’t wait another second. I must know what to do.”
“Then stand up my man and let’s see what you’re made of,” Junior said. So, Tyrone stood up in a droopy sort of way. “No, no that’s all wrong,” shouted Junior. “Get some iron in your backbone, and stand up straight. That’s it,” said Junior as Tyrone pulled himself up and stood as tall as he could.
“Now let me see you make a muscle.” Tyrone held out his arm and bent it in with fist curled, trying to make as big a muscle as he could. “Come on, come on, let’s see that muscle,” shouted Junior.
“I am. I am making a muscle. I’m trying as hard as I can. Can’t you see it?” Tyrone shouted back with a frustrated quiver in his voice.
“Well, no.” Replied Junior.
“No?” Asked Tyrone.
“No,” said Junior. “No muscle.”
“Oh.” Tyrone said sadly, snuffing back a tear. “No muscle”. He sat down on Sun Rock with his back to Junior, and dangled his feet in the water.
CHAPTER THREE
“Come on old man,” chided Junior. “It’s not the end of the world. Why it’s just the beginning. A whole new life is about to open for you. Get ready.”
Tyrone plunked his feet up and down in the water as he answered, “Get ready, get ready. How am I supposed to do that?”
“Glad you asked old man,” replied Junior. “You get ready by getting ready. See, all you have to do is eat and exercise. I mean build yourself up, work out. He-man stuff. Get big and strong. Then everyone will want you on their team.”
“That’s it,” shouted Tyrone as he jumped up and did a victory dance around the rim of Sun Rock. “That’s it, that’s it I’m going to be Mr. Muscle with the strength to lift tall….”
Just then the loudest crrraacckkk you ever heard echoed through the bayou. “What was that,” asked Tyrone as he picked himself up from the rock where he had dived face down, his arms covering his head when the great noise sounded.
“That my good man was just about the meanest, toughest, orneriest critter in all of the Bayou. He lets you know he’s around by slapping his big old gator tail on top of the water. That’s Sly.” As Junior said the name Sly, his voice dropped down to a hushed whisper.
“Old Sly is the biggest alligator in these parts. He’s the boss. Swallow you in one gulp, and you didn’t even see him coming. You just see that inky black swamp water moving as he swishes his monster tail back and forth. Nothing showing of him except his nose. Then when he gets close to you, he rises up out of the water with his huge gator mouth full of hungry teeth and chomps down and you’re gone. Just like you never was.”
Tyrone looked down past the edge of Sun Rock at the black river just in time to see a long “s” shaped ripple in the water pass by him in a slow lazy swish. He didn’t see any more than the water moving, but he knew that it was Sly passing silently by him. Tyrone shivered. He knew Sly had seen him. He could imagine those big cold eyes staring at him. A chill ran thru Tyrone and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would encounter Sly again.
CHAPTER FOUR
So, Tyrone ate and ate. And grew and grew. And with Junior as his personal trainer, he worked out big time. He did abs, and glutes, and pecks. He went jogging, and hit the speed bag, did sit ups and pushups. I mean hundreds and hundreds, no I don’t think I’d be exaggerating by saying lying on Sun Rock, Tyrone did thousands of pushups. Junior urged him on, “Come on old man, you can do it. Give me 50.”
Day after day. Week after week. Until Tyrone was as fit as any chameleon could ever hope to be. He had rippley ab muscles, outstanding pecks, and when he bent his arm to make a muscle, Junior hollered, “Look out, it’s a sight to behold.”
Now as with most things in life all this training turned out to be both a good thing and a not so good thing. You’d have to admit Tyrone was looking good. And he was feeling mighty good too. He developed a strut and swagger. With his head back and his shoulders swinging he’d take long exaggerated strides as he practiced walking along the dirt path at the edge of the swamp.
And worst of all, he even looked over the edge of Sun Rock at his reflection in the water and made scary faces. He’d open his chameleon mouth wide and say Grrrrr. Or make his eyes wide, snarl his lips back, and say, “Arrrr.” Then He’d make his hands into claw shapes, pawing at the air and growling, “Arrrah!” Oh, he was very impressed with himself.
“I’m the scariest, the biggest, the baddest, and the meanest. I’m big and I’m bad. Bad, bad, bad.” Eventually Tyrone started believing his own made-up story. He became bigger and bigger, and badder and badder in his own mind. Which caused him to begin to think more of himself than he should.
CHAPTER FIVE
Naturally, the next step was to try his “mean” out on somebody, and Willie Tree Peeper just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the wrong place at the right time, whatever. You know what I’m trying to say.
Tyrone was swaggering along the swamp path. As he got to Gnarly Tree, Willie Tree Peeper called out from the trunk where he was resting, after having gone for his daily swim, “Hi Tyrone sure is a fine morning isn’t it? I expect it’s going to be a hot one this afternoon, don’t you think?”
Willie was situated just at Tyrone’s eye level. Tyrone’s eyes got squinty, and his lips curled back. He leaned forward until his mouth was an inch from Willie Tree Peeper’s body, then Tyrone growled the fiercest growl he had practiced. The sound started way back in Tyrone’s throat, then rolled upward and along his mouth till it jumped past his lips and smacked Willie with the full force of a hurricane.
“GRRRRRAH!”
Willie flattened his frog body against the tree and squinched his eyes closed tight. “Oh, mercy me,” he screamed. “I’m a goner for sure. What’s happened to you Tyrone? Do you have rabies? I don’t see you foaming at the mouth, and throwing yourself on the ground.”
“Chameleons don’t get rabies, you ninny,” said Tyrone. Then he growled, “From now on, you call me ‘Mr.’ Tyrone, got it?” “Yes sir, Mr. Tyrone sir. I didn’t mean to disrespect you, Mr. Tyrone sir,” answered Willie, bowing deeply after each word. “That’s better,” Tyrone flipped over his shoulder as he strutted on down the path.
When Tyrone got out of sight of Willie Tree Peeper. He let out a whoop, and jumped up and down laughing and slapping his leg. “Oh wow! That was too good. Yes sir, Mr. Tyrone sir. Wow, am I bad or what? I’m rough, I’m tough, I’m rougher than rough, and tougher than tough.”
And that’s when the thought hit him. “I’m as bad as that old Sly. No, I’m badder than Sly. I’ve got it. I’m not going to be a shrimpy little chameleon any more. From now on, I’m an alligator. I’m an alligator, a huge, leathery skinned, toothy faced, tail smacking alligator!”
CHAPTER SIX
With that Tyrone sauntered on down the path looking for more trouble to get into. Which wasn’t too much farther along the river. Tyrone decided to wade in the water just up to his ankles to find a smooth flat pebble that was just the right kind for skipping across the water.
“Ah, there’s a good one,” Tyrone said to himself and he reached down to pick the stone up from the river bottom. Under the stone, tucked away all safe and secure was Ziggy Crawdad. He had just finished his lunch and was wiggling down into the crevice between his rock and the river bottom to take a nice comfortable nap. As Tyrone picked up the skipping stone, Ziggy yelled, “Hey what are you doing?”
Tyrone peered down into the shallow water and saw Ziggy shouting and waving his claw at him. “That’s my house you you’re messing with. Put it back you thief!” Ziggy Crawdad hollered. Tyrone laughed and said, “I don’t think you know who you’re messing with you pint sized lobster. I’m Tyrone the meanest alligator in the Bayou.”
Ziggy lifted himself out of the water by balancing on his tail and said, “You don’t fool me you puffed up lizard. You’re not an alligator; you’re just a doodle-brained chameleon.” Ziggy was not always at his best when his afternoon nap was interrupted.
Now I must tell you how Ziggy got his name. When he was startled or just plain in a hurry to get somewhere. He would swim on his back by flicking his tail back and forth, which caused his body to zig and zag from side to side propelling him forward in a crazy rhythm.
Anyway, the fact that Ziggy Crawdad had the nerve to call Tyrone a doodle brain, and suggest he wasn’t really an alligator, was throwing mud at a bad situation.
Tyrone raised himself up as tall as he could, and taking a deep breath, he growled, “So I’m not an alligator, am I. Prepare yourself for the biggest scare you’ve ever had in your whole crawfish life.”
Tyrone bent down and put his face close to the water, eyeballing Ziggy with his meanest stare. Then he opened his mouth, and “GRRRRAAHH” came thundering out so loud, it rippled surface of the water into wave after wave building up into a rolling tidal wave that thundered across the swamp.
When the first shock wave of Tyrone’s growl hit Ziggy, it slammed him backward, causing him to roll tail over teakettle, like a bowling ball zooming along the river bottom. Ziggy crashed backward bumping into rock after rock until he slammed to a stop, wedged upside down into the V of a submerged tree limb.
“Oh,” cried Ziggy. “What just happened? I can’t feel my tail. I’m numb all over. I’ll never swim again.” After a few moments, the feeling came back to his tail, and Ziggy was able to wiggle himself out of the sunken tree wedge. He straightened himself out, and shook his head to clear the fog away.
Ziggy looked up and focused on Tyrone, his eyes wide in pure shock and terror as Tyrone said with a satisfied grin, “I guess that showed you a thing or two. Now suppose you get out of here before I really get mad.”
Ziggy couldn’t leave fast enough. He flicked his tail back and forth so fast he looked like a speed boat planning in a zig – zag pattern all over the swamp.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Needless say with the bayou being a relatively small place, it wasn’t long before news of Tyrone’s change in disposition soon reached the inhabitants of Gnarly Tree Bend. And eventually some nosy so and so took great pleasure in whispering the events in Sister LaBelle’s ear just to see the shocked look on her face.
LaBelle marched straight home and found Tyrone sitting at the kitchen table drinking a glass of lemonade. “Tyrone what’s wrong with you?” LaBelle shouted at him. “What’s gotten into you? You can’t go around acting like that. You’re terrible.”
Tyrone grinned his best alligator grin, and shouted at the top of his lungs, “That’s me, I’m terrible. I’m TYRONE THE TERRIBLE, TYRONE THE TERRIBLE!” “Um hum,” answered LaBelle, “You’re terrible alright. Mamma’s going to smack you if she catches you acting like that.” Tyrone marched around the kitchen table and out the door singing, “I’m Tyrone the terrible, Tyrone the terrible,” in a disgustingly sing-songy voice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tyrone walked down the path kicking stones. He had just kicked one that bounced off two trees before it rolled to a stop at the foot of a willow tree. Oscar Possum was hanging upside down from one of the branches just above Tyrone’s head. Oscar had his glasses on and was reading MOBY DICK. Tyrone wondered if reading while hanging upside down by your tail didn’t cause you to have headaches.
That said, Oscar Possum was quite a pleasant fellow. He had an agreeable disposition and was always happy. But most importantly Oscar hated confrontations. He avoided them at all cost because he could not abide fussing.
“Hello Tyrone,” Oscar said in a cheery voice as he looked up from his reading. He carefully placed a bookmark at the page where he stopped, and closed the book. “Where are you off to this fine day?”
“This situation is beginning to look like it has definite possibilities,” thought Tyrone. And with a snarly grin he answered, “Actually right here.” “Oh, how lovely,” Oscar Possum replied. “Would you like to play a game or something? I know how to play Go Fish.”
“No, I don’t want to play Go Fish. I want to play Scare the Possum,” replied Tyrone. “Oh, I don’t think I know that game,” Oscar answered with a nervous chuckle. “You don’t,” said Tyrone in an utterly menacing way. “I’ll show you how.” And with that he howled such a howl the whole swamp instantly became silent. Not a sound was heard except Tyrone’s howl rolling off into the distance over the water.
“Oh my,” said Oscar, his glassed sliding up to his forehead as he shook all over. (He’s upside down, you see.) “This won’t do.” And then Oscar Possum did what any self-respecting possum would do. He plopped off the tree, rolled over and played dead – that is he played possum.
Tyrone poked at him with his toe, but Oscar didn’t move. He hollered at him. He even threatened to stomp on his book, but nothing worked. Oscar refused to move. He just lay there. That is what possums did. And he wasn’t going to budge. Finally, Tyrone gave up and walked away frustrated.
CHAPTER NINE
I think I’ll go over to the school yard and see if the guys will let me play baseball with them Tyrone thought. I’m tough and mean now, maybe someone will choose me for their team.
As Tyrone approached the ball field, he hollered “Hey!” and waved to the guys. They looked up from their game, saw it was Tyrone, dropped their bats, baseballs, and mitts and fled screaming from the field in all directions except toward Tyrone. He walked up to the pitcher’s mound, and stood there forlornly scuffing his toe on the sandbag the way pitchers do. This wasn’t exactly the outcome he’d had in mind. Being a mean alligator, and scaring everyone wasn’t as much fun as he thought it would be. And he sure wasn’t making any friends this way.
Things had not turned out the way Tyrone had expected. At first no one wanted to play with him because he was too little. Now all the fellows ran from him screaming in terror because they were afraid of him. He was still alone. Everything had changed, but everything was still the same.
Tyrone turned sadly from the ball field and walked slowly down the path along the swamp. He wanted to go and sit on Sun Rock by himself and think what to do. As he approached his favorite rock, Tyrone saw LaBelle there – stretched out on a bright pink towel with yellow hibiscus flowers on it, taking a sunbath. On his rock! “That’s my rock LaBelle, you get off it right this minute,” he hollered.” LaBelle sat up and slowly spread a handful of suntan lotion over her arms and legs. “Oh, it’s you Tyrone the Terrible,” she said acting as if she hadn’t heard him screaming at her. “For your information, Mr. Meany, you don’t own this rock. I can lie here any time I want. So go find someplace else for your sorry self to be.”
He knew he was fighting a losing battle with LaBelle. She was the one person in the whole swamp who wasn’t in the least bit afraid of him. So, he shuffled off, muttering to himself, “No respect.”
CHAPTER TEN
Tyrone walked down the path and around the bend a little bit further than he usually went. He finally came to a clearing where there was a log jutting out into the swamp. It was fairly long and wide with one end stuck in the mud bank and the other submerged under the water.
He walked over to the fine-looking log and sat down. It was soft and comfortable. The dappled sun shining on him through the trees felt warm on his chameleon skin. Tyrone stretched himself out on the log, lying on his stomach with his hands under his chin looking out at the peaceful water. All the mess of the day fell away, and he closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep.
All of a sudden, the log started to move. It pushed away from the bank and began lifting up. As the log rolled from side to side, Tyrone grabbed the edges to keep from falling off.
He raised himself to his hands and knees and looked over the side. The log he was on was now about a foot off the mud bank in the air. Tyrone looked forward blinking his startled eyes. Two huge eyes were looking back at him. Then he looked behind him and saw two lumps at the end of the log. They weren’t lumps, they were nostrils. “Like the nose of something very, very big,” Tyrone thought, terrified.
He turned back to the two big eyes that were still looking at him. With a sick feeling in his tummy, Tyrone realized the fine log was not a log at all. It was an alligator. He was sitting on top of the long mouth of a huge alligator, looking into a huge alligator’s eyes. He imagined the long row of jaggedy teeth in that mouth under him. He felt sick all over, and his chameleon skin turned a putty gray with fear.
“Well hello there,” the alligator said to him. Tyrone could feel a crooked smile rippling under him. “Who are you?” The alligator asked.
“I’m Tyrone,” he managed to stutter.
“Tyrone, now where have I heard that name before? Would you be that Tyrone the Terrible I have heard talk of lately?”
“Yes sir,” Tyrone answered. “That’s me. I mean I’m Tyrone. I don’t know where the Tyrone the Terrible part came from,”’ he lied sheepishly.
“Well,” the alligator answered, “That’s neither here nor there. The main thing is that you are here. By the way why are you here? I mean why were you lying on my nose?”
“I beg your pardon Mr. Alligator, Sir. But I thought you were a log. And my sister LaBelle was taking a sunbath on Sun Rock which is my favorite place to be, and it had been a rough day, and I just wanted someplace to rest and think.”
“And so you thought my nose would be a fine place is that it.”
“Yes sir, I mean, no sir,” answered Tyrone shaking his head. “I didn’t know your nose was your nose if you know what I mean. I thought it was a log. Oh dear, I’m saying this all wrong,” said Tyrone, swallowing hard.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The alligator stretched even further out of the water. “Since I know your name, perhaps you would like to know whose nose you’re sitting on? It would only be polite to introduce myself, I’m Sly,” the alligator said with a laugh that rumbled up from deep in his stomach. Tyrone could feel the long toothy mouth under him begin to open. He shivered all over, frozen in fear as he managed to squeak out,
“SLY! The meanest, tail thumping gator in the bayou?”
“You got it.”
“Swallow you in one gulp, and you don’t even see you coming?”
“That’s me.”
“And you’re gone, just like you never been, that particular Sly?”
“Oh, yes,” laughed Sly as he put his head back till it was straight up and down, and opened his craggy toothed mouth. Tyrone hung on for dear life. “So, you think you’re an alligator,” snarled Sly? “You think you’re badder than Old Sly, do you? Let me show you who’s the meanest gator in the bayou.”
With that Sly flipped Tyrone cartwheeling into the air, opened his toothy mouth and in tumbled Tyrone. Sly’s jaws snapped closed like steely prison doors clanging shut, and Tyrone was trapped in Sly’s cavernous mouth.
It was dark, and cold, and fishy smelling. Tyrone shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself, to fight off the chill. He was terrified, petrified, horrified and ossified. He remembered Mama telling him the Bible story of this fellow named Jonah who got swallowed by a whale but he was too sick with fear to remember how the story ended.
“Hello,” he hollered in a voice that was a shaky as he was. “Hello. Can anyone hear me? Mr. Sly can you hear me? Please don’t swallow.” With that Sly curled his lips back and grinned. Light flooded into Sly’s mouth and Tyrone could see the swamp out between Sly’s jagged teeth. He ran to the bars of Sly’s teeth, and peered out. “Is anyone there? Somebody help me.”
“My, my, my look at you,” a voice said back at him from outside Sly’s mouth. Tyrone leaned out between the teeth as far as he was able, and saw Ziggy Crawdad, swimming along on his back below him. “Help me, Ziggy, help me,” pleaded Tyrone.
“Well,” Ziggy answered in a mocking tone. “I don’t know. It looks like the toughest gator in the swamp has gotten himself into a bit of a pickle. And there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to help. I’ll tell your Mama I was the last to see you,” Ziggy called out, as he swam by Tyrone and on down the river until he was out of sight.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Then Sly closed his mouth again and everything was dark. “Please Mr. Sly, don’t swallow,” Tyrone pleaded, imagining himself sliding down that long throat and falling into who knows what at the bottom of Sly’s stomach. He tried to sing, “Mama said there’d be days like this, there’d be days like this my Mama said,” but it didn’t help.
When Tyrone’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he tiptoed cautiously to the back of Sly’s throat, leaning forward as far as he dared and peered into the dark cavern below. He cupped both hands to his mouth and hollered, “Helloooo.” Hello, hello, hello, was the echoing answer. “You’re stomach really is a bottomless pit,” Tyrone said adding, “Phew, you sure had some nasty stuff for lunch. Don’t burp.”
Tyrone walked back to Sly’s front teeth and sat down with his head in his hands. “Boy, have I ever made a mess of things,” he said. “I made myself into a monster and thought I was a big deal.”
“If I was out of here, I’d go tell everyone I’m sorry. I don’t want to be a mean alligator any more. I want to go home to Mama and LaBelle.” With that Tyrone started to cry. “I don’t want to be swallowed by an alligator. I just want to go home.” He put his head down and cried big alligator tears.
Sly couldn’t help but hear Tyrone talking to himself. He called out to Tyrone, “Hello in there. How are you doing? Keeping dry and comfortable?” He knew Tyrone was not fine. That instead he was uncomfortable and truly miserable. “Well, no Sir,” Tyrone answered snuffing and wiping a tear from his eye. “I really am sorry for all the mess I caused, and I would so like to go home.”
“Well son,” Sly chuckled. “I guess you’ve learned you’re not the meanest gator in the bayou now, are you?” “No sir, Mr. Sly,” Tyrone answered in a shaky voice. “Then who’s the biggest, and baddest?” Sly thundered. Tyrone shivered all over at the sound of Sly’s voice. “You are Mr. Sly sir,” he politely replied “That’s better half pint,” Sly agreed, shaking his head up and down. Tyrone bounced up to the roof of Sly’s mouth and down again, and up and down again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You know come to think of it I really don’t like the taste of you. And if I were to swallow you, I’m not sure you would go with the gumbo I had for lunch. You’d just lay there with the sausage, and the okra and the red beans and rice, and mess up the flavor.”
“And then my stomach would start to ache and grumble. And everything would start to roll around inside. And I’d be up all night burping, and wondering why I ate you. So, I guess I’ll do myself a favor, and get rid of this bad taste in my mouth,” Sly said with a wink of his eye and a grin that of course, Tyrone could not see.
With that Sly started making this awful noise deep in his throat, like you do when you’re working up a spitball. Tyrone could hear it rumbling up Sly’s throat and into the back of his mouth. Tyrone looked up just in time to see a huge slimy green wad of spit rolling toward him from the back of Sly’s throat. “Oh no!” Tyrone hollered as the gooey green wad hit him full force and sent him hurling over Sly’s jaggedy teeth and out his open mouth.
Tyrone flew forward like he was shot out of a canon and plunked head first into the mud bank. He pulled his head out of the muck and lay panting on the riverbank trying to catch his breath. When his breathing got to semi normal, Tyrone sat up and looked at himself. He was covered in mud and gator spit.
“Gross,” said a voice in a branch leaning over the riverbank. “You look like something the cat threw up. Or is it the gator?” The voice sounded familiar to Tyrone. “Junior, is that you?” he hollered. “The one and only my dear man,” replied Junior. “You come down out of that tree right now,” yelled Tyrone.
Junior slid down the tree trunk and stood in front of Tyrone with his hands on his stomach laughing. He pointed at Tyrone and hooted, “Oh man, if you could just see yourself. Your head looks like a mud pie, and the rest of you looks like, like,…and boy do you stink.”
The goop had started to dry in places, so Tyrone began pulling it off in big sheets like a snakeskin. Then he just rolled into the water and scrubbed off the rest of the slime. When he finally came up out of the water, Tyrone’s skin was cherry red from rubbing so hard.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sly had remained offshore, all the while Tyrone was getting himself presentable again. He wanted to make sure Tyrone was alright. “That boy reminds me of myself when I was younger,” Sly said to himself with a satisfied smirk. He grinned showing his long treacherous row of teeth. Then Sly sunk down into the murky black of the swamp, and swam away leaving only an ‘S’ shaped ripple in the water.
Junior scampered off to tell everyone in Gnarly Tree Bend of Tyrone’s close encounter with Sly. Tyrone lay down on the grass along the bank and dried himself in the sun. The sounds of the swamp were music to his ears. The smell of the grass under his head. The warmth of the sun. It was so good to be here, and not a part of someone’s gumbo.
When Tyrone was completely dry, and had lost most of his red glow, he walked home. He was tired. Dog tired. When he saw his home, his pace quickened until he was running for the kitchen door. Tyrone threw open the door, and there was Mama with a wooden spoon in her hand, stirring supper.
Mama saw Tyrone and let out a cry, “Tyrone, Tyrone, my baby. You’re alive. Oh goodness gracious, my poor baby. You about gave me palpitations.” She scooped Tyrone up in her generous arms and held him close to her half smothering him.
Then Mama put her hands on his shoulders and held him out arm’s length from her. She gave him her stern look, like she did when he was about to get scolded. Tyrone squinched his eyes up expecting to get a smack on the behind with the wooden spoon.
But Mama merely said, “How could you Tyrone. LaBelle’s been telling me how bad you been acting toward folks. You’ve been brought up better than that. What got into you?” “I’m sorry Mamma,” Tyrone answered, with his head down looking in the direction of his feet. “I’m going to make it all better Mama, I promise.”
Mama hugged him again, “I know you will son,” she said, and then added sternly, “But don’t let me ever hear of you doing such nonsense again. Now you march right upstairs and take a good hot bath, you smell like the swamp. After your bath it’s straight off to bed with you mister. And there’s no dinner for you tonight. I want you to know you are going to miss a fine meal of cornbread and gumbo.” Tyrone put his hand over his mouth and burped.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Now let me tell you how this tale ends. Bright and early the very next day Tyrone jumped out of bed and ran thru the kitchen, grabbing a piece of cornbread as he flew out the door. Don’t you know he went to everyone he had been mean to and said he was sorry for the miserable goober he had been.
He went first to Willie Tree Peeper, then Ziggy Crawdad, and Oscar Possum. Finally, he went to the guys at the ball field. Don’t you know, much to his surprise they all said, “Hey, no problem.” The best part was the guys asked Tyrone to try out for one of their teams, on account as he was so fit and strong.
Tyrone then found Junior leaning against the base of Gnarly Tree chewing on a sassafras root. He sat down next to Junior, put his hands behind his head and said, in his most serious voice, “You know Junior. You can’t make folks be your friend, you have to be a friend first.” “How true, how true, my good man,” Junior replied, “That’s quite a truth for anyone to know.”
Now there you have it. Tyrone grew up OK and his Mama was proud of him. He and Junior remained close pals all their lives. And I guess you could say the moral of the story is: There is always someone bigger and badder than you, so it’s best to make friends along the way.
THE END
writer of children's books 