A Short Dissertation on The Green & The Slimy

There’s this place about halfway between here and Rapid City called Reptile Gardens. It’s this big dome housing a sort of makeshift tropical jungle surrounded by an acre or two of fenced-in park. It’s a zoo slash tourist trap that you have to pay twelve bucks to get into so you can see all the nifty snakes and lizards and alligators and such. For the little ones and those that are faint of heart, there’s a petting zoo with miniature horses and donkeys. There’s also a playground and a burger stand and a gift shop and lots of benches and pathways and grass so well mown it boggles the mind. There’s even a large fountain where people throw in change and make wishes. Something about this fountain is a little different, however, as you will see.
………..According to the promotional pamphlet you can find just about anywhere in South Dakota, every step you take at Reptile Gardens is a new discovery, every turn another adventure. Here, you can meet Maniac, the largest crocodile in captivity. Maniac is eleven hundred pounds of ferocious predator stored in a large glass box, just waiting to be photographed and forgotten. You can also say howdy to Methuselah, South Dakota’s oldest living resident. Clocking in at over 120 years old, Methuselah is a giant Galapagos tortoise who creeps slowly around his enclosure looking bored. Once upon a time, kids were allowed to sit on his enormous shell and squeal with delight, but that all changed when one of them stepped on his head, breaking his eye socket. A visit to Reptile Gardens provides a lifetime of memories.
………..Every local has been there at least once and by local I mean anyone who lives in the Black Hills region of South Dakota. Most have been there several times. Schools take field trips there and when friends or relatives visit from out of town it is a firm fixture on the circuit of tourist destinations that includes Mt. Rushmore, Cosmos Mystery Area, Wind Cave, and Deadwood.
………..Don and Guth, of course, had been there, too. Driving home at three in the morning on Saturday night, they decided to go there again. They were drunk and had been in Rapid City all evening scamming on some chicks, without success. They were also broke and had decided that it would be fun as well as profitable to scale the fence and steal all the change out of the large concrete fountain that is the focal point of the Gardens. Guth had been there most recently, about five or six years before, when his grandma had visited from Colorado. He was a snotty teenager then and spent the whole time making a big production out of how monumentally uninteresting he found everything. He did remember the fountain, however. He remembered seeing all the people, dozens of them at the time since it was July and the height of the tourist season, throwing their quarters, dimes, and nickels into bubbling water.
………..“Seriously, man,” Guth said as Don pulled the car into the large empty parking lot. “There’s, like, over two hundred bucks in that fountain. It’s, what, August 2nd? People have been throwing in change for three solid months now.”
………..“Don’t they clean it out ever?” Don asked doubtfully. “And it’s only July 26th.” He brought the car to a stop at the far edge of the lot near a power transformer and a collection of dumpsters. It was the darkest area of the lot and would provide their car with good cover.
………..“I think they do at the end of the season or something.”
………..“How do you know?” Don was four years older than Guth and, in his mind at least, more practical. “Since when are you an expert on the fountain at Reptile Gardens?”
………..“Seriously, man,” Guth said. “I’m telling you there’s a shitload of sweet coin just waiting for us in there.”
………..“Maybe, but I doubt there’s two hundred bucks. I’m sure they don’t clean it out every day, but I bet they don’t wait months and months either. We’ll probably only get like thirty bucks.”
………..“Thirty bucks is thirty bucks.”
………..Don sighed. “I suppose it is.”
………..They walked a few yards along the fence, looking in. The place was dark, shadowy, and appeared deserted. The fountain was easy to spot by it‘s large size and central location. It was a daytime fountain and not lit up apart from a soft glowing light that came from the bottom of the pool. In the still night air they could hear the water gurgling.
………..“I’m surprised they leave it running at night,” Don whispered. “Maybe there’s someone around, a night watchman or something.”
………..Guth looked at him. “They leave the fountain running for the night watchman? What, to relax him?”
………..“I don’t fucking know. I’m nervous.”
………..“You ready to climb?” Guth asked him. He nodded upward at the fence.
………..“Wow, that’s high, man. I don’t know if…”
………..“Come on.” Guth sprang onto the fence and started up.
………..Don found himself wincing as it clanged and rattled. “Shh! Keep it down.” he said. “Go slower.”
………..“All right, all right. Come on.”
………..“You first, then me. It’ll be quieter.”
………..Guth proceeded slowly and gracefully to the top, where he suddenly lost his balance and plummeted to the ground on the other side, landing with a BERF! For a second he lay among crushed flowers, then got slowly to his feet. “It’s easier than it looks,” he said hoarsely.
………..Don looked at Guth through the wire mesh of the fence and said, “We better not get busted for this. I’m on probation.”
………..“So am I. So’s my uncle. This is 21st century America, man. Most people are on probation.”
………..Don began to climb tentatively. When he reached the top he took extra care as he switched to the other side and made it to the ground safely. He looked around. “You made a mess of these flowers.”
………..“So?” Guth turned and marched away. He was halfway to the fountain before Don began to follow.
………..It was a very pretty night, but neither Don nor Guth noticed, being drunk and in the midst of a crime. The air was clean and crisp, fragrant with the earthy spiciness of Ponderosa pine. The sky was clear as a bell and rang loudly with stars. In the far east, a purple band across the horizon signaled the nearing summer dawn.
………..As they looked into the softly glowing water of the fountain, they were surprised to see that it was teeming with turtles. “What the hell?” said Guth. “I don’t remember all these damn turtles.” He scratched his head, perplexed.
………..There were a lot of turtles, too. Dozens upon dozens, certainly, and likely a few dozen more. The fountain at Reptile Gardens was twenty foot long, ten foot across, and had a two foot deep pool. Water spilled from the tops of three steel pipes that went down the center in a line. Two large rocks, big enough for their tops to stick out of the water, sat on either side of the middle pipe. These rocks were covered with still more turtles.
………..Guth continued looking into the water, almost sadly. He shook his head. “I would have remembered this many turtles.”
………..Don found a plaque. “Check this out,” he said. “They’re Red-Eared Sliders. They’re common in the U.S. They prefer sluggish rivers, ponds, and lakes with soft bottoms.”
………..“Seriously, man,” Guth said. “How could I not remember this many turtles?”
………..“Maybe they’re new,” Don offered.
………..“New?”
………..“Yeah, maybe these are new turtles.”
………..“Maybe.”
………..In the water, they could also see coins. Lots of coins. They glinted up between the slowly moving turtles like sunken treasure. The entire floor of the fountain appeared to be covered by them. The coins, however, were entirely covered by turtles.
………..“I think you underestimated, Guth, my friend,” said Don, a smile growing on his face. “There’s way more than two hundred bucks here.”
………..“I told ya.”
………..“I bet there’s at least five hundred bucks here. But…” Don put his hands on his hips and cocked his head. He surveyed the fountain like a normal person would a difficult yard project. “How do we get at it? We can’t climb in there and walk all over those turtles. We’ll fall on our asses. Plus, I don’t really want to hurt them.”
………..“Yeah,” agreed Guth. “These are innocent turtles.”
………..“Wait…” Don straddled the concrete lip of the fountain and lowered his right foot in. He splashed it gently around in the cool water.
………..“What’re you doing?”
………..“Look,” he said, leaning close to the water.
………..All the turtles in a four foot radius had retreated into their shells. The splashing had frightened them. Don nudged a few turtles aside with his toe and was now standing in the fountain. “They‘re scared. Maybe we could move them around and get at the money.”
………..Guth had a better idea. “Let’s take ‘em out.”
………..“Huh?”
………..“Take ‘em out. Here–” Guth held out his hands. “Gimme some turtles.”
………..Don hesitated, then bent down and grabbed two turtles. He handed them to Guth, who sat them in the exquisitely mown grass next to the fountain. There they lay, unmoving and wet.
………..“We’ll stack ‘em here,” Guth said, indicating the two turtles. He held out his hands again. “Gimme some more turtles.”
………..“But won’t they dry out or something?” Don felt doubt, but he wasn’t sure why. Something just didn’t seem right about taking them out of the fountain.
………..“Look at those on the rocks. They’re out of the water and they’re fine. We just need to clear out a big enough area and then we’ll load up. We’ll put ‘em back in when we’re done.”
………..Don began handing turtles to Guth in two’s and three’s, reluctantly at first, then with increasing speed. He still felt doubt, but he also wanted to get everything over with and get out of there as soon as possible. The longer they stayed, the more likely they were to get busted.
………..They worked in silence for fifteen minutes. The only sounds were the splashing of the water and the hollow, wooden clack of turtle shells being stacked on more turtle shells.
………..Finally, Don stopped. He was breathing hard. “I think that’s enough,” he said, looking into the water. Fully a third of the fountain floor had been cleared of turtles. “There’s no way we can even carry all the change in this area, let alone the whole damn fountain.”
………..Guth looked into the fountain. “We should’ve brought a wheel barrow,” he joked. Behind him, chest-high, was the great mound of frightened turtles he had built. It was both higher and wider than a nearby picnic table. It looked out of place, even a little monstrous, a dark, wet, alien thing in the middle of a pristine, wholesome park.
………..“Come on,” said Don. “I want out of here as soon as possible.”
………..Getting the change out of the fountain was easier than getting the turtles out. It was far more fun, too, and they laughed and joked in muted tones as they worked. It was, however, very wet work, and by the time their pockets were bulging with the wishes of hundreds of tourists, they were thoroughly soaked and shivering.
………..They stood up, ready to go. They were smiling. There was no way to fit even one more dime into their pockets and they had begun to think about the fence. Climbing it would be quite a chore as wet and loaded down as they were.
………..“Holy shit,” Guth said suddenly. “They’re running away.” The mound was gone–it had disassembled itself. The turtles were now heading for the fence and the parking lot beyond at what, for turtles anyway, appeared to be breakneck speed.
………..“There’s a gap under the fence,” Don said and jumped out of the fountain, spilling some of the change he had collected. He felt almost panicked, but had no idea what to do. “They’ll get out.” He looked at Guth imploringly.
………..“So?” said Guth calmly. He eased out of the fountain and stood next to Don.
………..“So? They’ll get out.”
………..“They are getting out. Look.” Guth pointed. The first few turtles were going under the fence. They were the vanguard, the ones who had left first, the ones who found the faceless anonymity of the pile too much to bare. The other turtles were merely followers, reptilian bandwagoneers.
………..“They’re getting out!” Don was trying to whisper, but failing.
………..“So what? They‘ll get more.”
………..“More? How?”
………..“I don’t know. They’re turtles. They can get more.”
………..“How? How are they going to get more?”
………..“How the hell should I know? It’s not like these are the only turtles in the universe.”
………..Don looked at Guth silently. His lower lip may have been trembling, but it was too dark to tell.
………..“Come on, man. Relax. This is Reptile fucking Gardens.” Guth threw out his arms and spun in a circle, indicating everything around him. “You think these bastards can’t get their grubby mitts on some replacement turtles? Trust me, they can. They got ways. By 8 am they’ll be on the horn slapping together a turtle deal to undo all that we did here tonight.” He reached out and gave Don’s wet shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” he said gently. “The sun’s almost up and I’m starving.”
………..Getting over the fence was easier than either of them thought, despite being wet and weighted down with coins. Time and cold water had sobered them up some, and in a matter of minutes they were enjoying the warmth of the car.
………..Don lit a cigarette and took a long, luxurious drag. “That’s the last time I’m doing anything like that,” he said, exhaling smoke. He started the car, put it in reverse, and began backing out.
………..A loud crunching sound filled the car. “What’s that?” Guth asked, looking at Don.
………..“I don’t know, but we’re barely moving.” Don gave the car more gas and it responded by sliding sideways. He cranked the wheel as far as he could and jabbed the gas to the floor. The car swung drunkenly around and they were now facing the highway.
………..Before them, the parking lot was covered with turtles, all heading in the same direction: away from Reptile Gardens. Guth let out a surprised cackle. “Look at the little fuckers go!” he squealed. “A flock of turtles…” He began laughing.
………..Laughing maniacally, Don thought. He looked at Guth. “What’re you nuts? What the hell are we gonna do now?”
………..“We’re gonna go, that‘s what.”
………..“You know what that crunching sound is, don’t you?”
………..“Like I said, they’ll get more. Man, we have to go. People will be coming here to open this place up. Now go, go, GO!” Guth snapped his fingers.
………..Don hesitated a second longer, then stomped on the gas. The car, however, only inched forward. The rear-end came loose and soon they were fishtailing around the parking lot in slow, sloppy figure eights. A constant crunching sound accompanied them as they slid and spun, and Don began to feel queasy. Actually, he began to feel downright ill.
………..“Damn,” Guth said, his voice barely audible over the noise. “This is worse than ice.”
………..Twisting and turning the steering wheel, Don managed to get the car across the lot and near the entrance to the highway. A deep ditch thirty yards wide divided the highway from the parking lot. Here, the turtles were especially thick, bottlenecked as the tried to get onto the highway. The car simply sat there, wheels spinning in the muck and engine roaring.
………..“Damn,” Guth said again. “This is worse than ice.”
………..“I know, I know.” Don let off the gas and allowed the car to idle. He was afraid the engine would blow. Mostly, though, he just needed the sickening crunching sound to stop, if only briefly. His head swam and he felt on the verge of vomiting.
………..Nearly a full minute passed. “Er, Don?” Guth asked finally. “You still with us? We need to, like, get going…”
………..Don hit the gas, rising up off the seat and using the steering wheel for leverage as he pushed the pedal to the floor as hard as he possibly could. The car shuddered for a half second, it’s engine screaming, then the tires caught the asphalt.
………..They were snapped back against the seat as the car shot forward, careening away from the entrance to the highway, and flying straight out over the ditch. It plowed head on into the opposite embankment, rolled three times, and settled at the bottom, crumpled and smoking.
………..Don and Guth were not immediately killed, but their injuries were such that they were both dead within a minute. The steering column got Don directly in the chest, crushing his breast plate. A shard of bone from a rib tore open the atrium of his heart and he bled to death both internally and externally. Guth smashed his head on the windshield. To say that he died from severe head trauma would be an understatement because brain oozed from his ears like slimy gray toothpaste.
………..The sky was lit with near-sunrise. Underneath it, the Reptile Gardens parking lot was a hideous, smeared mess of dark green and dark red. The rich, meaty smell of freshly crushed turtle was everywhere, causing billions of flies to rise early.
…………The interior of the car was also a mess, though maybe not quite as hideous or smeared. There was less green, too.

The End
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