Page 11 of Croc Food

Wait, was that a flannel shirt I could see through the branches?

I charged forward.

“Thank fuck,” I cried, as I caught a glimpse of a bearded man walking down the road with a pickaxe.

It looked like one of Bitsy’s twin brothers, either Junior or Third.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he barked when I stumbled up behind him.

“I’ve—er, come to see Bitsy. I’m sorry, I don’t know if you’re Junior or Third.”

He looked at me like he wanted to take the pickaxe to my skull.

“I’m Junior. I’m gonna go get Dad.”

“But—what—don’t leave me alone out here! I need to find Bitsy! Where is she?”

Junior looked at me with unconcealed loathing.

“Where’s Bitsy? I just want to find my wife!”

“I heard about what you said to Bitsy.”

Fuck.

“What?” I asked, trying to play stupid. After all, I’d been stupid so it wasn’t like that was a lie.

“You know what you did,” the big man growled. “Wait here,” he added as he vanished into the moss.

Should I run like hell or wait here? What option had the better chance of not being eaten by a crocodile or bitten by a poisonous snake?

I dithered, but it wasn’t long before Junior was back with Thirds, and a man who looked exactly like them except with a salt and pepper beard.

They all eyed me with utter revulsion, silently spreading out to surround me.

I took a few involuntary steps back, almost stumbling over a rotting log.

“You don’t like whimsy, son?” my father-in-law Hayes asked, spitting a wad of tobacco on the ground directly in front of me.

“Of course I do.”

“You got some kind of objection to sushi rolls that also look like ghosts?”

“No, no. It was all a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

He glanced over at his sons, and it occurred to me as sweat began to run profusely down my face that they could kill me right here and leave my body to decompose in the swamp.

“Must be a hell of a misunderstanding. Don’t like to see that hurt look in my girl’s eyes. Always tried to understand that she had a soft spot for you, even though you’re a city slicker. Even though it didn’t make a damn lick of sense for a girl who could have had anyone going for you.”

“It definitely was a misunderstanding! I absolutely adore your daughter. That’s why I’m here to talk to her.”

“Bitsy said you didn’t like the lunches she packed.”

The statement hung, ugly and heavy, around the four of us.

And the goddamn thing is that it was the truth.