Alligator Park

“Mister Official, the alligator just ate seventeen more kids here this week.” The mother said.

The playground official was taking a last bite out of his sandwich and watching a baseball game on his phone. His mustard hair was unkempt. He wore a suit much too formal for his position. The tie he had was poorly put on. He also wore a small pin on his left side—right above his heart. The pin had a yellow smiley face on it—showing its teeth. On the left side of it: a big yellow thumbs up. Quite a few people in the neighborhood liked seeing this pin. It reassured them.

The playground official would rather be at home—he had been staying at home the past few months. However, enough parents complained about him not being around that he decided to spend some of his precious time, 1pm—9pm daily, at a gazebo near there. That seemed to soothe them enough. Some were still not happy.

“Firstly, no hello? Secondly, call me Mister Manager. Third, this is a free country.” Mister Manager replied—barely glancing at the mother. Mister Manager waved a hand at the mother.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” the mother said.

“They can do whatever they want. This park is a free, public space.” Mister Manager said.

“This is a playground, not a park. There’s an alligator in the playground.” The mother said.

It had been at Independence Park for a while. The day after Mister Manager was hired, it showed up. It ate a kid within a week. The week after, ten. The week after, thirty. The week after, twenty-five. When it’s not eating kids, it congregates alone in a pond near the playground. After a week, Mister Manager began referring to the place as “Alligator Park.”

Mister Manager groaned. Mister Manager set his phone down, turning towards the mother. Yet another neighborhood complainer in his face. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

“It’s some teens in an alligator outfit—all a dumb prank, you see.” Mister Manager said.

“No it’s not. There were bodies. Surgeons have confirmed them in the autopsies.” the mother said.

“Those surgeons are all pedophiles.” Mister Manager said.

“The hell does that have to do with anything?” the mother said.

“It means they don’t care about the kids.” Mister Manager said.

Mister Manager turned away from the mother—ready to lift his phone back up.

“Don’t you have any children, sir?” the mother said.

Mister Manager froze in place for a few seconds. Mister Manager turned to the mother, lifting a single finger up in the air.

“I have one.” Mister Manager said.

“Doesn’t he play at the playground?” the mother said.

“Yes, he doesn’t play at this one, but he does play at a playground.” Mister Manager said.

The mother wanted to cry. The playground never had anything this unusual happen before. At the very least, it didn’t last this long.

“Aren’t you in charge of this playground?” the mother said.

“I am.” Mister Manager turned, giving a warm smile. “I’d say this playground is holding up well.”

“Why are so many innocent children being devoured, then?”

“These things happen sometimes. All this is going to pass. The alligator will leave us alone soon.”

“As you say that, there’s 30 eggs in the pond now.” The mother said.

“Those are the ducks’.” Mister Manager said. “Nothing to fret about.”

“The ducks were also eaten by the alligator.”

“Those are the fishes’.” Mister Manager said.

“Fish don’t lay eggs.”

“Well, like I said, it’ll all work itself out.” Mister Manager said.

The mother wanted to believe him. That’s the way it seemed to be—or how it used to. Everything in the playground was always safe. Safe for any kid to escape—to be free. It’s never been this bad before.

“I don’t think so.” the mother said.

“Well, that’s too bad. It’s a shame, really. This is how it is, though. There’s nothing more I can do.” Mister Manager said.

Tears started gushing out of the mother’s eyes. They free-fell to the concrete floor below. Mister Manager could hear them fall.

“Please, you must be able to do something. Why has this joyous paradise of the imagination turned so violent and crazy all of the sudden?” the mother said.

Mister Manager was busy setting his phone back up to the baseball game. Mister Manager threw up his arms in disappointment.

“Ahh, you made me miss the whole 5th inning. It was getting good, too.” Mister Manager said. “Maybe there’ll be other high spots.”

The mother couldn’t believe this official could be watching a sports game at a time like this. Does he not grasp his responsibility? Does he have a responsibility? Surely, he must, the mother figured. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be any need for this position.

“Mister Official…”

“That’s not what I am.”

The mother aggressively cleared her throat.

“Mister Manager, I am not done.”

“I’d love to talk more, but I should be back to work. If you wouldn’t mind just leaving the premises.” Mister Manager told the mother—not looking up from his phone.

The mother’s tears stopped for a moment. Her face turned into a shimmering peach. The mother balled up one of her hands into a fist.

The mother grabbed Mister Manager by his tie. She dragged Mister Manager up to her face, the tie pulling against the back of his throat. The mother then punched Mister Manager down to the floor with all her might. He went down hard, his pin getting knocked out of his suit.

“My only child was eaten two days ago!” The mother said--tears stuck burning in her eyes. “He has been going to this playground for years. I told him not to go anymore, not with that thing running around here.”

Mister Manager began to pull himself up from the hard floor. He adjusted his jaw and scanned the area for where his pin went.

“He assured me it would all take care of himself. He told me he didn’t want it to scare him away from what made him happy.”

Mister Manager found his pin. He put it back onto his suit.

“I’ve wanted this thing to be gone for the past year. Yet, as we talk, it’s still there. There has never been an alligator that made its home in this playground till now. Now there’s one here, eating kids, and all you seem worried about is an ugly pin.”

As the mother tried wiping the snot and tears from her glistening face of red agony—Mister Manager took a tissue from his suit pocket. He tried handing it to the mother. The mother slapped it away. The tissue drifted left and right through the air till it slid to a stop on the ground behind them.

“I don’t want your tissue. I want my son back. I want this scaly bastard out of here.”

“If I could, I would.” Mister Manager said. “Now, I’ll only say this once, get out of here, before I call the cops on you.”

The alligator emerged out of the pond, stepping out into the playground. It trekked through three small, mangled bodies in the sand before stopping under a dried blood puddle underneath the monkey bars. There, it sat, and still sits, waiting.

“Both of you can go to hell.” The mother said.

The mother walked away from the gazebo back to her car. It took a couple of minutes before the car pulled out of the area. The mother was too busy weeping her hope out to leave immediately.

As the mother left, Mister Manager followed her.

Mister Manager stopped on the edge of the gazebo, in front of where the expansive beam of sunlight took hold of the air.

“It will all work itself out.” Mister Manager called out.