I wish I was back in Chicago. I'd have exclusive run of the park, and not surrounded by a bunch of Floridians sneezing on me who think Coronavirus is just the flu.
Anyway, support this campaign back home and help some medical professionals kick COVID ass: https://t.co/2ZlWbm3mGJ
INT. FLORIDA GATOR PENTHOUSE, NIGHT
Chance drops into his hot tub and cracks open a Hamm’s. He smiles.
CUT TO:
EXT. HUMBOLDT LAGOON, NIGHT
Alligator Bob stuffs another stick of dynamite into a chicken leg and tosses it into the water. He pushes back tears.
FADE OUT.
The End
“He is a little bit on the chunky side as well,” a gator expert at the farm told First Coast News. As Chicagoans, we’d expect nothing less.
Truth there. @ChanceDeSnapper is a true Chicagoan.
Someone just sent me this notification Aw, you guys are still tracking me??
Wait, no one told Bob about this, right? I’m not sure he’s given up on finding me.
I’m really gonna miss this place. But you know what they say:
You can take the gator out of Humboldt Park Lagoon but you can’t ever wash the stink away so it’s impossible to forget where you came from even if you tried really hard—not that you would want to.
Chicago, this past week has been amazing. I am honored to have been the mascot you didn’t ask for, it apparently needed. Thanks for looking for me and for finding me. I feel seen.
@HipHopFan79 I think we all know how that ends. Bob shows up to chanting crowds, wanders around the ring for a while as I watch. Chanting intensifies. Frank drops in from the ceiling, hooks me, silencing the crowd. Then, in a surprise move, together we beat the living shit out of Bob.
Look, I appreciate everyone’s passion around my situation, but if you free me, I’m just going back to the lagoon and this whole circus begins again.
Maybe direct your hubris on more pressing things. Like, Area 51.