Kudzu Queen

By Tamara Ducote

As soon as the man pulled out of my driveway, Goo the iguana fixed his beady obsidian eyes on me and announced, “We need to talk.”

Geez Louise, do I ever hate it when Goo says that.

“Goo,” I said, “How come we only have talks when nobody else is around?”

“I require your complete and undivided attention, with no distractions,” Goo said.

“Yeah, but then everybody thinks I’m crazy. Especially my daughter.”

“Everybody thought that before,” Goo assured me. “Especially your daughter. No one’s opinions have changed in that regard.”

“Oh, crap,” I said. “Let’s get it over with, then. What’s on your evil little reptilian mind?”

“You’ve changed,” the lizard said. “I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

“Huh?”

“Where has that cynical, negative, dark-hearted bitch I had grown to tolerate disappeared to?”

“I’m still right here, bro,” I assured the iguana.

“Bah!” the lizard spat. “You don’t even walk normal anymore. You float. You bounce. And you hum insipid ‘80s love songs every waking minute.”

“Hey, that’s a low blow,” I protested. “I don’t hum insipid love songs. You know I hate that kind of sentimental garbage.”

“I happen to know,” Goo said, “That you were singing along with a Lionel Ritchie song in the car the other day. Veronica told me.”

“Veronica would. She’s been ratting me out ever since she learned to talk.”

“I just want you to think about what you’re doing,” Goo said, misty-eyed. “You and me had built a nice life for ourselves, remember? I’d rant and you’d rave, I’d piss and you’d moan, I’d grouch and you’d grumble. We both enjoyed scaring the hell out of people. We burst bubbles and rained on parades. We stamped out good cheer wherever we found it. We had something special, Tam. Don’t throw it all away.”

“I haven’t changed,” I argued. “I’m still ornery and negative.”

Goo sighed heavily.

“Woman, denial is not just a river in Egypt,” he said. “You haven’t been acting yourself. You hardly even cuss anymore.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“NO. Profanity is like any other language. If you don’t keep in practice, your skills will deteriorate.”

“Darn. Heck.”

“See what I mean?” said Goo.

“We had it going on, with our negativity and pessimism,” Goo continued. “That’s why I always promised you that when we lizards take over the world, you would be treated more kindly than others of your species. But now I just don’t know. I’m disappointed in you, frankly.”

“I haven’t changed that much, Goo,” I said. “I think you’re being a little melodramatic.”

Goo lashed his tail in annoyance and puffed himself up.

“Remember when neighborhood urchins would litter in our yard and you’d chase them down the street with pepper spray?” Goo said. “That was always a good time. Yesterday, you didn’t even yell at them. You just picked up their Arby’s bag and put it in the trash.”

“Maybe I was tired,” I said in my defense. “There’s always next time for the pepper spray.”

“Bullshit. You’ve grown soft and kind.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” I asked.

“YES,” said the iguana, popping the window with his tail for emphasis. “It’s dangerous. We’ve crafted a pretty good defensive wall against the world, and you’re letting it go to hell. And you don’t even have the sense enough to be scared. You start letting people into our world, and there’s no telling what might happen.”

“And another thing,” the lizard continued. “Your chess game has gone straight to hell. You’ve lost your ruthlessness.”

“I’m just in a temporary slump,” I protested.

“Bull. My arthritic old green grandma could checkmate you in four moves.”

“Ouch, Goo. That’s a low blow.”

“The truth hurts, don’t it, babe? I’m just trying to cash your reality check. Somebody has to,” Goo said.

“Everybody loses a chess game sometimes,” I said.

“Kind of hard to win when your brain is eaten up with sappy romantic crap,” Goo observed. “Every romantic thought deducts 20 Wechsler IQ points, you know. And frankly, Tam, you strip-mined so many brain cells in your youth, you really don’t have any to spare.”

“Gosh, maybe my brain IS turning to pabulum,” I said. “I did drive right past our street the other day on my way home.”

“And let’s not forget how you left your bathwater running and flooded the bathroom,” Goo said, helpfully. “As I recall, you’d just come home from HIS house.”

Now I could see where this was going.

“It’s not his fault, Goo,” I said. “Don’t be hatin’ on him. Maybe I’ve just contracted some severe degenerative brain disease.”

“Oh, you have,” said Goo. “You definitely have. And it starts with an ‘L’.”

“Omigod. There’s no hope for me, is there?”

“None whatever,” said the lizard. “You’re a worst lost cause than the Confederacy.”

“What are you going to do, Goo?” I asked.

“Well, Einstein, since I can’t buy my own romaine lettuce OR drive, I’m stuck in this mess with you.”

“Thank you, Goo, for hanging in there with me,” I said.

“Yeah, whatever,” the lizard said. “But could you at least do one thing for me? Could you please stop tracing little hearts on my skin with your fingernails when you’re scratching my itchy spots? I really hate that shit.”

“I could trace his initials, instead. Would that be better?”

“Oh, brother,” sighed Goo, resignedly. “This is even worse than I thought. You’re in big trouble, Sister.”

Yes, I am.

Contact Tamara Ducote at TDDucote6@aol.com.

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