Confession of a Serial Killer (AKA the Gecko Ghoul)

Posted: September 3, 2007 in animals, Life, Tenerife, This is why we're numero uno animal, Travel

Okay, you might as well put the cuffs on me and drag me off to the big house for some serious sing sing, the guilt’s become too much and I want to spill my guts. I have become a lizard serial killer and my latest victim lies in the garden as I type, writhing in his (or hers-I’ve no idea how you tell the sex of a lizard) death throes, in two neatly cut halves, like the victim of a magic trick gone seriously wrong.

I’m guilty for letting the grass grow too long, so that when I was mowing it today I didn’t spot the copper salamander make a life changing decision by seeking shelter under the mower instead of doing the sensible thing and legging it for all he was worth in the opposite direction. This now takes my tally to five gruesome deaths:

Number uno: I knew geckos lived in the little cupboard which houses the gas bottles, but I didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to hide in the ridge which runs around the door, or worse to stick their head up to see what’s going on just as I slam the door shut. Result – one perfectly flattened gecko head, its little mouth open permanently framed saying ‘ouch’.

Numero dos: Another gas cupboard victim. This one hitched a ride under the rim of the gas bottle when I took it to be renewed, but obviously decided that the boot of my car was a much more comfortable home. Trouble is – no food. I eventually found his emaciated little body under the back seat.

Numero tres: Quite simply complete lack of observational skills. Shut the bedroom window and didn’t notice that there was a little scaly fellow resting on the ledge enjoying the view, until I heard the squelch.

Numero cuatro: The worst really. I shut the skylight in the bathroom, but as it was dark I couldn’t see out of it, but it did seem to stick on something. Next morning I found that the top half a lizard’s body was silhouetted on the glass, his little front legs splayed out like a cartoon character. To my shame I left him there for a couple of weeks, his disembodied head staring down at me accusingly, a constant reminder me of my crime.

These are only the ones I know about, there may be more. However, in my defence, none were cold blooded murders; the worst I could be accused of is lizardslaughter. In fact writing this down has made me realise that it’s me that’s the real victim here. I’m obviously being used by a lizard suicide cult to despatch them on their way into the next world.

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Comments
  1. tokyo5 says:

    I like your writing style. Very humorous.

    I grew up in Florida, USA where there are many lizards…but very very seldomly see them in the city that I immigrated to (Tokyo).

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