Alligator Attacks Linked To Religious Extremists


SWAMPWATER, FL – Beads of dew reflect off of the blades of grass in the humid city of Swampwater, Florida, a small ringworm harvesting community with a love for Jesus and down-home traditions. I came here looking for answers… answers to why so many alligator attacks have been going on. It didn’t take me long to find a participant; down-home folk are not shy, especially when it comes to their cause.

I met a young man who said that he would take me to meet with their preacher. Ever deeper we traveled into the marsh as I asked, “What does a preacher have to do with alligator attacks?”

“You’ll see,” the young gentleman said.


“You stand before me, under the good grace of god… seeking the Truth,” the preacher said. “The Truth is, Sodomites are wicked sinners before the Lord. They are worthy of death for their vile, depraved, and unnatural sex practices. Produced by their very presence in society is a kind of mass intoxication from their wine made from grapes of gall from the vine of Sodom and the fields of Gomorrah”

“I’m sorry?” I said in disbelief. I turned around to see a twelve-foot alligator in a Kentucky gentleman’s suit drinking a glass of lemonade.

“I wasn’t finished!” the southern alligator said in a calming, Kentucky drawl. “You came here to find out the truth… then listen! The vine of Sodom and the fields of Gomorrah, which poisons society’s mores with the poison of dragons and the cruel venom of asps, declare their sin and shame on their countenance. They are liars and murderers; filthy and lawless; natural brute beasts; dogs eating their own vomit; sows wallowing in their own feces, and must be pulled as faggots from the fire. They need to hear this truth if they are to have any hope of penitence, faith in Jesus Christ, and salvation.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes, but I had to maintain my composure. “I am sorry. I don’t understand… Are you saying that these attacks are a form of political protest? And are you holding a glass… How can you…?

“RAWWWWWWWWW! Politics!” the alligator screamed out. “The Word of God spreads much further than mere rhetoric of politics! As long as these hedonistic faggots are infecting our society, they will make the Lord our God more furious with this nation, and bring more wrath and punishment on this country.”

I replied to this awkward beast, “Does it not say in the Bible that we should not love our fellow man?”

“Don’t quote me scripture, son,” he said, “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them. That’s Leviticus 20:13.”

I soon realized that trying to reason with a twelve-foot gator was pointless and I was starting to wonder why and how he was able to talk, not mention the ability to hold a glass. “What is your name, sir?”

“I am the Reverend Isaac Chordata,” he said, “and don’t you damn misquote me, city boy, or you shall reap the scorching flames of hell-fire for all eternity.”

I was still having trouble understanding him. “What is your purpose in eating people? Do you feel that you will win over the masses?”

“We don’t eat to win people over, idiot. It’s to harden people’s hearts. Make them hate. Make them hate God even more than they already do. Our goal is to preach the Word of God to this crooked and perverse generation. By our Teeth, some will repent. By our Teeth, some will be condemned. Whether they hear, or whether they forbear, they will know a prophet has been among them. Our goal is to glorify God by declaring His whole counsel to everyone. We hope that by our eating, some will be saved.”

His speech was beginning to sound like the rhetoric he was so eager to earlier denounce. “So, by eating people, you are saving them? So, we must pray for their cursed souls, I suppose.”

His voice began to rise, but his cool, Southern demeanor remained unchanged. “America is doomed and cursed by God irreversibly; America is doomed and cursed by God irreversibly,” slurping the remainder of his lemonade. “Now if you would please excuse me, I am getting cold and need to sun my self. Good day, sir.”

“Is that fresh squeezed?”

“I said, ‘good day, sir’!” he screamed, followed by a series of strange alligator moans that I’ve never heard before.


On my trip back home as I kept running the interview in my mind, I prayed for the poor souls that were taken… and how the hell could he hold a glass without any thumbs? That’s really fucked up.

This is Chester Ringfield signing off from Swampwater, Florida.

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