He wasn’t sure what she thought about carnivorous iguanas. He thought he would like to find out. But he was afraid so he hid his secret.
At sunset he approached her. Her scaly skin was a luminescent green and caught the last rays of sun. Egward munched on collard greens in the half-light. He swallowed.
He choked. The leafy greens had blocked his airway. He spat them out with frightful finality.
“That’s it, I need meat!”
“Please don’t eat me!”
“I would never! You are my sun in the day, you are my moon at night,”
“But what am I in the twilight?”
“Ummmmm… never mind. Slither away with me. Today!
“The day is passed.”
“It is not yet night.”
“Don’t you take that tone with me!”
“Let us go now, my darling!”
“Are you listening to me?”
“Your words are music to my ears.”
“We don’t really have ears. They are called tympanums.”
“You are the brains, I am the dewlap.”
“Well when you put it that way…”
“Your scent is intoxicatingly sweet.”
“You smell like dead flies.”
“Let me hold you in my claws.”
“Okay, you twisted my arm. Let’s just go.”
The two iguanas moved off into the brush.
I never saw them again but I hear that Guella decided she likes flies too. Egward has reconciled himself to being an oddity in the Iguana world. They recently had a baby who occasionally dresses up as a salamander superhero.
Trade one set of problems for another, I always say.
Egward’s mother-in-law won’t speak to him, but strangely, he doesn‘t mind.
They all lived happily ever after.
Except the flies.
P.S. Visit HERE is you want to see the roots of this insanity.