By Murray Murchison.
We might think we have a crocodiliac problem in North Queensland, but consider the plight of residents in central Mexico, where more than 10,000 residents have lost their lives to suspected alligator attack in the last two years.
Last Tuesday, Tamaulipas resident Vanesa Sánchez heard her dogs barking and went outside to investigate. There she encountered a two-meter-long, three-legged alligator feasting on a hamster, just on the edge of her property. She has already lost two husbands and a half-sister to alligator attacks, and Vanesa believes that the prehistoric creature will forever inhabit her dreams and potential fortunes.
“I was really scared, but with the help of some neighbors I was able to bring my dogs inside, in case it ate them next,” said the plucky Tampico resident. “Then I had some tamales. Then I filmed some viral footage of the gator tormenting the neighbour’s cat. I used landscape-mode of course. CNBC might pick it up.”
Given the frequency of such incidents in the region, the local authorities have been provided with special equipment to deal with alligators, including a sequestration cab (pictured above).
“We can contain up to ten gators and eight chums inside the cab, explained Juan García Hernández of the Tampico Alligator Brigade. “Getting them out again can be a bit tricky. But it usually ends well. Except for the chums.”
The measures have been completely unsuccessful. Under-funding and a burgeoning hamster population have meant that the brigade is facing unprecedented political pressure to deal with an increased death-rate. They are pleading with residents to be mindful of the risks in engaging in alligator negotiations.
“Our recommendation is the same as always,” explained Hernández. “People should call us right away at the first sighting of a alligator, because we are trained to handle them, or fuck them up as required. It’s what we do. It’s what we were born to do. Attempted amateur vigilante fucking-up will likely lead to poor outcomes. And not for the gator.”
The reaction of crocodile experts in Far North Queensland have ranged from bemusement to indifference. But the final word must go to Red Robbins, Crocodile Consultant for the Northern Beaches, and former Secretary General of the International Crocodiliac Organisation.
“Fuckin’ Mexican fuckin’ idiots,” Robbins said sagely from his stool at the Trinity Beach Bar and Grill, as he sipped a Claytons and cola. “And now we can all get some sleep!”