One of Cornell’s first acts since waking up as an alligator was to drop out of high school. It seemed the natural thing to do, now that raw meat was more interesting than book learning. He couldn’t go himself, of course, so his father drove his old blue pickup down to Sidney High School.

“What did they say?” said Cornell when his father, Robert, Sr.,  returned from the school.

“They wanted to know why you were quitting.”

“What did you tell them?”

“They had a spot on the form for the reason.”

“And?”

“I think everybody knows you’re an alligator, Cornell.”

“So you told them,” said Cornell. “My reason for dropping out of school is becoming an alligator.” He shook his wide head back and forth.

“No,” said his father, “I didn’t put nothing down.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t tell them nothing.”

He had never been able to talk to his father. So much had changed for him, it was comforting to find something that hadn’t changed at all.

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A simple man, Cornell’s father rarely spoke, but he was a hard worker. He owned a dump truck which he contracted out to construction companies. He lived for Sidney’s annual rodeo—Sidney, Iowa—arguably one of the best small town rodeos anywhere.

For several days Cornell had walked around the town, trying to avoid Main Street because he didn’t want to scare people more than necessary. Initially people would shrink back and run away. Some screamed. Now they were getting used to him, which settled his stomach considerably. It helped when they learned he could still talk.

“I’m still Cornell,” he would say to their puzzled faces and open jaws.

He didn’t like causing fear in the people of Sidney, but what he liked less was being slighted. Some of the kids had taken to calling him Fat Alligator, which hurt. He hadn’t asked for this to happen to him.

On one of his walks, he went to the house of Kaitlyn, his girlfriend. He called from the street, and eventually her father, Edwin Johnson, normally a sensible person, came to the front door.

“Good afternoon, Cornell. I heard about…”

“Hello, sir,” said Cornell, hoping he didn’t look too threatening. “Is Kaitlyn home?”

“Yes, she is, but she doesn’t want to see you. I’m sorry, Cornell, but she says it’s over. I’m sure you can understand.”

Cornell did indeed understand, but it didn’t hurt any less. He saw movement, and there appeared Tiffany, Kaitlyn’s kid sister, beside Edwin. She had hated Cornell since she caught him kissing their mother in the kitchen with the lights off. He had explained later that he was drunk and thought it was Kaitlyn, but she didn’t believe it. They both used the same mouthwash, so how was he supposed to know? Cornell’s memory of the event was weak, thanks to the beer, but he remembered that Mrs. Johnson hadn’t protested. In fact—well, that didn’t matter now.

“Fuck you, monster!” said little Tiffany, hiding behind her father’s legs.

“Tiff, you watch your language,” said Edwin.

“Well, he is.”

“Maybe, but we still don’t curse.”

Cornell turned and walked away, furious with the brat, and not all that pleased with Kaitlyn, either. Edwin was alright.