"Hold my beer and watch this."

A great scholar once said that all good things in Louisiana begin with the title phrase of this post. I agree.

This is a story that happened very recently to a group of people I know very well. I will use three fake names to protect the parties from any seemingly illegal acts. As some of you may know, September in Louisiana is Alligator season. Boudreaux just moved back his home state of Louisiana and he was looking to get that cajun blood flowing so when he was invited to go on a gator hunt with his cousin Thibodeaux and his uncle Pierre, he was happy to accompany them. Boudreaux hadn't shot anything in years, so his was planning to just have an auxiliary role in the hunt. He wasn't quite sure that he could stomach killing a beautiful creature of the Great Spirit. Pierre and Thibodeaux had no such moral barriers.

After an afternoon of searching around the Atchafalaya Basin for gators, the 3 relatives had grown pretty frustrated. They had missed an opportunity to bag a 10ft+ gator and those two cases of cold domestic beer were almost gone. All of was almost lost until Boudreaux spotted about a 7 foot gator catching the last rays of the afternoon sun on the bank. Uncle Pierre spun the boat around, and Thibodeaux steadied his rifle against the edge of the boat. BAM! Direct hit right in the head. The gator started to spin and thrash in the water. Uncle Pierre hit the gas and as they got to the gator, Boudreaux reach down to pull it into the boat. Unfortunately for Boudreaux, the jaws and not the tail of the gator came up first. Boudreaux quickly withdrew his arms and the gator disappeared under the black water. Drunk and not wanting to lose his gator (new pair of boots), Thibodeaux jumped into the water with a hook and a rope, hoping to fish the dead gator off the bottom. After about 3 throws of the hook, there was still no gator. Uncle Pierre in his less than sober mind handed his pistol to Boudreaux, undressed to his tighty whities and jumped into river. "If I yell your name, start shooting!" said Uncle Pierre. The water was only about 4 feet deep and Uncle Pierre was dragging his feet (socks still on) on the bottom trying to kick the dead gator. To everyone's surprise, the "dead gator" brought its long snout to the top of the water right next to Uncle Pierre. Apparently the rifle shot had only knocked him silly, it didn't go through the skull. So, what did Uncle Pierre do? He did what all reasonable men would do, he grabbed that cold-blooded SOB by the snout and slammed it on the bank. Thibodeaux immediately jumped on top of the gator and Uncle Pierre and began to punch the gator in the face. So, lets recap, Boudreaux is in the boat pointed a loaded .357 Magnum at the gator, screaming "What do I do?!", Thibodeaux is punching an almost 7 foot alligator in the face, and as the gator attempts to roll them off, Uncle Pierre is screaming "You Ain't Rollin' on Me Mudda Fucka!!" Boudreaux then jumps into the river and places the barrel on the head of the gator..."CLICK"...the gun doesn't fire..."CLICK"..."CLICK"..."CLICK"...Oh Shit! The rifle is in the boat, out of bullets, and there is something wrong with the pistol. Let's recap again. Three grown men on top of a 7 foot alligator with no way to kill it, the boat is slowly moving down stream, Uncle Pierre has a broken finger from the wrestling match, Thibodeaux has a broken hand from punching a wild alligator in the skull, and Boudreaux may have just pissed himself. Thibodeaux takes the gun with his broken hand and luckily it wasn't out of bullets, it was just jammed..."BANG." So it goes. The great beast had been felled. Gov. Palin would be so proud.
This story is what happens when you mix beer, alligators, and coon-asses (Cajuns). So what have we learned? A 7 foot gator is much stronger than a former professional baseball player, a former professional football player, and a former college football player. Also an alligator's skull is much, much stronger than the human metacarpals (hand bones), but not stronger than a point blank bullet from a high powered pistol. Laissez les bon temps rouler! (let the good times roll).