The Crocodile Part 3 by Robert Fullarton copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

The Crocodile Part 3

by Robert Fullarton

copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

After leaving the crocodile to his own “devices” Blomquist found himself that night in his suspended bed conflicted in his feelings and he began to have doubts as to whether he could even go ahead with the experiment. He even had feelings of affection for the creature.

“His noble mouth smiles a cheery grin to me, his fixed gaze always wins my admiration! His calculated, meticulous stride, shows a sense of confidence that reminds me of the Burgmaster and his handsome face!” Blomquist spoke aloud to himself as he sat up in his bed, with its broken springs, damp mattress and torn coverings.

The night passed in tranquillity, a artificial peace between man and beast seemed to exist, in the air there hung a tension of anxiety that woke Blomquist early from his slumber. The sun rose above the cobbled rooftops of Gustavia, illuminating the steeple and the cupola of the St.Sebastian church and the adjacent graveyard where the distinguished forefathers of the kingdom had fought for the country’s independence and had since long been forgotten in time. All was once straightforward, so seemingly simple, life was short but sweet for the peoples of Gustavia, but these days it has become long, boring and bureaucratic!

The light deviated through the wooden panels in the attic bedroom, it was akin to a heavenly revelation, and in response the eccentric miser Blomquist, moaned aloud to himself with the lights beaming through, and after much consternation he returned to sleep once again.

On the first day of the experiment Blomquist tried to test the creature’s movements with regard to its communications skills. The crocodile would only move so long as the raw chicken pieces were thrown right in front of him! The creature was sitting out once again at the back of Blomquist’s house bathing in the sun, stubborn to move but staring at him on occasion baring a toothy grin that gave Blomquist the impression he was smiling at him in gratitude for all his “lessons in domestication”.

By the time evening had arrived, with no work completed in either the post office -with an entire office of angry, poorly paid employees lying idle, post unattended too, complaints gathering force, not to mention the threats of action that were issued to Blomquist that very afternoon- all energy was lost, time had been consumed in the efforts of changing, “breaking”, training and domesticating the rather bemused crocodile.

Delusions and illusions of grandeur ran through Blomquist’s mind. He indulged in the possibility of inviting all the members of Gustavia’s elite to dinner some evening-or at least the one’s he wanted to impress anyway- and show them his “well behaved crocodile”. He imagined inviting Heinrich the artisan, Rotweiler the head of the Nord Banken, Minister Daschund of the interior government and his wife. These were all prestigious people who had letters after their name and he had always been fearful in the company of such socialites, where the candle lit dinner dinners sparkled, the gluttony reached such heights as to create such terrible gastric utterances that the stomach, bowels and lower intestines were capable of reaching. It was another world. Was he going to try it on for size?

The crocodile had to behave himself, he could be dressed up, displayed by the door or the fireplace where the gentlemen would leave their boots to dry on a rainy evening, after giving their cordial salutations. He would be made to look pretty, give his claw, bow before Rothweiler, smile his toothy grin before minister Daschund and give a full freemasons’ handshake to the Burgmaster without delay and without making a hash of it! Yes he thought to himself that would indeed be the cherry on a very voluptuous cake!