Written by Michael Landolfi –
BaBang! Thud! Brrizzppp!
It was 3am. The hollow plastic explosion startled us all. Kelly bolted upright, “What the…?” She dug her fingernails into my face. I jumped up with an oath and fists at the ready.
Kylie began to wail, “Oh no! Mommy, no, no! Don’t let ‘em get me! Please! Please!”
Kelly flew to her baby’s side. I checked the shower stall. Sure enough the suction-cupped soap container had jumped from the wall and lay sprawled in the tub minus its contents. I cussed it and checked the rest of the house for burglars.
I heard Kelly say, “No one’s gonna get you baby, it was just something falling in the shower. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
“Yes, they are, mommy. They’re trying to get in. I heard them.”
“It’s nothing, sweetheart, only the soap dish in the shower. That’s all.”
“No, it’s not! I heard them outside my window and one crashed into the wall.”
“Kylie, you were dreaming. The noise was the soap dish…”
“No, mommy, I saw them too.”
“Baby, it was just a dream. What’d ya think you saw?”
“Crocodiles!”
“What? Crocodiles? That was just a dream. I’ll hold you till ya go back to sleep.”
“No, mommy, they’re real. They’re outside my window.”
“Baby, there aren’t any crocodiles around here. Plus all the doors are locked. They couldn’t get in if they wanted to.”
“They have wings. They can fly. They were trying to come in my window, but smacked the side of the house.”
“No burglars,” I reported as I walked into Kylie’s bedroom.
Her mother held her close, but she was still crying.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I asked.
“She’s afraid of flying crocodiles.”
“Baby, there’s no such thing.”
“Yes, there is. Papa told me a story about ‘em. They can fly and shoot flames out their mouths. Sometimes they eat little children if they misbehave.”
Kelly and I both chimed in, “No, honey. They aren’t real. Papa must’ve told you a fairy tale.”
“No, he didn’t. He said it was a true story his grandmother told him and he’s seen ‘em too – in Savannah were he grew up. And they ate his neighbor who was a bully and didn’t listen to his mommy.”
Kelly hugged tighter and said, “Kylie, I promise there’s no such thing as a flying crocodile.”
I said, “No, there’s not and I’ll have Papa tell ya that next time he baby-sits you, okay? Now, let’s go back to sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“Can I sleep in your bed?”
Reluctantly we both said, “Okay.”
She flipped and twisted and squirmed until exhaustion doused all her fires. She came to rest with her elbow in my face, then feet in my back once I turned away.
We were worn out and irritable when we arrived in Florida. For months we’d made plans to visit Walt Disney World and Busch Gardens. Kylie was quite excited to see Mickey and Minnie, princesses and elephants. She couldn’t wait to ride roller coasters and eat cotton candy, but her excitement faltered as the plane neared Orlando. Videos advertised area attractions, including alligators. Her eyes got big and she wrung Kelly’s hand. Fear turned to dread as we neared the park. Billboards showed giant alligators, and ringing the parking lot were a dozen huge helium balloons. One was an alligator. She thought it was a flying crocodile and refused to get out of the car. She made a scene. The squabble bordered on combat, so much so that a security guard intervened. He listened and kindly explained that the alligator was a balloon, the real ones were confined and of no danger. Kylie was intransigent; there was no way she was going into the park. She pitched a fit. We never saw Busch Gardens. Disney was better. Kelly scouted it out while Kylie and I played cards in the hotel room. We avoided anything reptilian in the park.
All of that was a long time ago. Now I’m the grandfather baby-sitting Kylie’s child. Yesterday at naptime she said, “Granpa, will you tell me a story?”
So I began one my father had told me – the one about a black stallion and a puppy.
“No not that one, Granpa. Tell one about a flying crocodile.”
My neck hairs sprang to attention. “What? There’s no such thing as flying crocodiles.”
“Uh huh, yes there are, and they’re magic too! Mommy told me all about ‘em.”
“She did?” The memories of that awful night and vacation came flooding back.
“Uh huh, they can fly and they protect little children. They help kids learn to read and even know if there’s any candy hidden in the pantry!”
Asheville native, Michael Landolfi survived Catholic school, the 70s and the Marine Corps. He lives an untamed life in Bent Creek, is on the trails daily and writes wild stories for those with short attention spans. His tales will tickle your funny bone, pinch your heart and twist your gut. Imagination run wild. Find out for yourself. His new book, 5-Minute Short Stories: A Bathroom Book, containing 35, 5 minute stories, is available on Amazon.
