A Prior Life

Recently I have been asked to elaborate on my past, specifically my salad days in the Sunshine State. I grew up in the swamps of Florida and my family owned a roadside citrus stand. Really, it was more of a tourist trap situated along a lonely stretch of state highway in the central part of the state.

When a newly-built stretch of interstate took most of our traffic away, the family had to improvise. That's why I started wrasslin' gators when I was only five. Over the years I trained with some of the legends in the business: Lefty Johnson, Peg-leg Pete, Tommy Two-toes, Stumpy McGee. It was a proud tradition and I was considered a natural. No duct-taped snouts or toothless gators for me. I was the real deal. Sure, I got my share of nips and gashes, but I must say with all humility that my show saved the family business.

I am not saying that I was the sole bread winner. My sister became quite adept at carving indian faces out of coconuts and my mom made orange blossom honey. My brothers sold illegal fireworks from a shed out back and my dad made 'shine way back in the orange grove. It was truly a family business and you could tell we were prosperous by the number of gold rings my Daddy wore.

I was on my way to the big time in the gator wrasslin' biz, an audition at Gatorland in the tourist mecca of Orlando.






The night before I was to wrassle Hungry Joe, a 500 lb. monster with a crooked grin, I had a dream that changed my life. The Geico Gecko came to me that night and asked me to stop exploiting his reptile brethren. It meant the end of my career and the end of the family business, but I had to agree.

How can you say no to that little guy?