So.

I am sitting out on my deck enjoying the gulf breeze after a long day. A flagon of water to quench my thirst as I enjoy, or should I say I START to enjoy a cigar when I hear it.

First some furtive rustling in the leaves and whatnot that are under the deck. Then growling that escalates into a full-fledged fight between two or more SOMETHINGS that are living down there.

You know as well as I do that it can only be one thing.

That’s right

CHUPACABRA, baby. Living the Salt Life.

UNDER MY FREAKING DECK!!

I did not sign up for this when I moved here. And I know what you are going to say…

“Phil. There is no such thing as a Chupacabra. They aren’t real.”

Well, I know what I head. And it wasn’t bunnies, or fuzzy little creatures battling it out down there. There was sharp claws and teeth being used to gouge, slash, and bite. You weren’t here. I know what I heard.

So much for hanging out on the deck after the sun goes down. At least until I get my snake gaiters and a bazooka.

Freakin’ swamp beasts…..