I have a story about an iguana that became Godzilla … in my shared apartment.
I was playing NASCAR ’98 in 1998 on the Nintendo Play Station that was purchased by my girlfriend at the time. She had two cats and two iguanas. I felt it was Animal Planet up in there!
My then-girlfriend entered into the living room to interrupt my game play.
She was crying as she said, “Edward is dead.”
That’s the name of one of her iguanas. After pausing the video game, “Wait. What? How?”
She explains that while cleaning their separate tanks, she accidentally switched the iguanas. She put Francis in Edward’s tank and vice versa. Edward was frustrated so he busted out. He wandered out to the cold bathroom floor. She nudged him but he didn’t react so she assumed he’s dead, because being a cold-blooded animal and died of lack of heat.
“He’s not dead,” I grumbled in response.
I then located some leather gloves to pick up the carcass. I searched the 2nd bathroom for Edward’s body. It was behind the toilet tank so basically the most inconvenient place to reach.
I sighed with disbelief.
I knelt down to be closer. My outstretched trembled as it neared his hindquarters. I muttered under my breath, “YOU bastard. I resent you for making me do this.”
As my hand was one millimeter away, Edward’s eyes popped open. Then he hissed at me as he thrashed around. I yelped like a teenage girl discovering a spider. I raced out of the bathroom as he bolted after me to give chase.
I was screaming down the hallway, “Godzilla! GODZILLA LIVES!”
I jumped up on the couch, clad in shorts, and T-shirt, and leather gloves, seconds before Edward crashed against it. He hissed again, as I pointed and screamed at the killer iguana. What the fuck?
Then the girlfriend casually scoops up Edward like a kitten with comforting words, “Oh my, so glad you’re not dead.”
She wanders down the hall to put him back into his tank.
“Dead, my ass,” as I stepped down from the couch and removing the gloves. “Told ya, he was alive.”