Chapter 2
Let me back up a second.
There I sat, comfortably ensconced in an Adirondack—which for the unknowing is the most comfortable outdoor chair you can have—with a big, toasty fire going, hot enough the big lava rock that sat in the middle of the pit glowed a bright orange.
I’d treated myself to a nice fatty ribeye, which I’d seasoned and threaded onto a skewer and held in the crackling flames.
I like my meat singed on the outside, the outer fat crispy but the inside red and juicy.
When I had it just the way I liked it, I stood and slapped it on a plate just as something in the fire went crack and loud hissing ensued.
I whirled with my plate still in hand, and sure enough, the big rock had finally split into chunks. It must have had moisture trapped inside given the steam that erupted.
Cool.
I plopped back in my chair, plate balanced on my knees, and grabbed my can of Coors from the cupholder. As I swigged, the thief struck. A clawed paw reached out and snagged my steak.
I blinked. Steak was still gone. Not cool. I’d been looking forward to eating it.
My annoyance vanished as I saw what stole it. A lizard the size of a kitten sat on the edge of the fire pit, which made its theft of the steak—bigger than it was—even more comical.
Until it scarfed down that entire hunk of meat.
I mean, like how? The steak had to weigh as much, if not more, than the little reptile. Yet its jaw essentially unhinged and nom, nom, bye-bye dinner.
It belched more loudly than expected, given its diminutive size. I almost laughed at its suddenly very rounded belly.
The lizard then proceeded to speak, or so my beer-addled brain insisted, chattering in a steady stream that made no sense, but almost resembled a language.
“Slow down, little fella,” I crooned, kind of fascinated.
British Columbia had its share of reptilian wildlife, but despite being born and raised in this area, I’d never seen a creature like this who seemed unafraid of fire.
I worried about its perch so close to the flames.
Despite it stealing my dinner, I’d hate to see the little fella barbequed.
It continued to harangue me in its chirping lizard voice while waving its paws. Or was it claws? I couldn’t tell you the proper term, but it was cute.
It patted its belly and my eyes widened.
That I understood. “Sorry, that was my entire dinner. There’s no more.
” I pointed to my plate and shook my head.
Again, I blamed the booze for thinking I was conversing with the lizard.
Or maybe I’d accidentally tossed something on the fire and was currently tripping, as in gone on a spiritual, hallucinogenic journey.
Granny used to indulge in those. Usually naked. Good thing we didn’t have neighbors.
“Speaking of dinner, some of us are still hungry. Guess I’ll have to see what’s in the fridge.”
Not much. The grocery stores had been double tapped, first with having to toss a bunch of stuff in case of contamination, and then again when their stock got wiped out by people panic buying. It reminded me of the toilet paper shortage during the Covid lockdowns.
I’d lucked out on the steak only because I knew a farmer. In exchange for meat and eggs, I kept a running credit for Bart so he could get his dream tattoo. Currently, he had his left arm inked to look like a Nisga’a totem. We’d be doing his right arm next, which meant lots more steaks for me.
As I rose from my seat, I chugged my beer and crushed the can before tossing it in the recycling bin I kept by the trailer door.
I entered my cramped home and sighed. I already knew my fridge only held a hunk of molding cheese and a potato growing eyes.
At least the freezer had ice cream. Wouldn’t be the first time I did dessert for dinner—or breakfast.
I snared the half-eaten quart along with a spoon and collapsed on the plaid-covered bench that some would generously call a couch.
I wasn’t one of those people. I could have retrofitted the trailer like some folks did, tearing out the built-in furniture to replace it with the real thing, but I’d been saving my money and effort because I wanted to build myself a real home.
A place without wheels that didn’t rock in strong winds, made of something other than aluminum and vinyl.
Granny used to scoff at my dream, saying she preferred the freedom to live wherever she wanted, never realizing the irony in having spent her entire life in one spot.
Scratch.
I glanced at the door with a frown.
Scri-t-t-ch.
The odd noise came again and my curious ass, which obviously never learned any lessons from horror movies, went to check it out. I opened to find Mr. Lizard on the threshold. It hopped right on in and scouted the place as if it belonged.
“Well, hello again. Making yourself at home, are we?”
The reptile waddled about, sniffing and craning, peering at everything. I could have shooed it out, but with my mellow buzz, it seemed like a bunch of effort for a harmless creature. Besides, it was kind of entertaining.
As I sucked ice cream off my spoon, I studied it.
The grayish leathery skin and its sinuous tail that swished.
It had two nubs along its back and when it bent over to sniff under my stove, dangly bits that marked it a boy.
And before anyone comments, I thought reptiles kept their dicks and balls tucked.
Maybe this little fella preferred airing his out.
I finished my ice cream and rose to put the empty container in the garbage when the little critter whipped around and cocked its head. A forked tongue flicked, and it jabbered.
“I don’t understand,” I stated with a shrug.
I swear to fuck, it looked annoyed. It pointed at me. No wait, the ice cream carton.
“You wanna taste, little fella?” If it wanted to lick it clean, go ahead. I just hoped it wasn’t lactose intolerant. Cleaning up lizard diarrhea didn’t exactly scream fun.
The lizard cautiously stuck its head in the carton and must have liked what he tasted because next thing I knew his whole body disappeared, and the carton rolled around on the floor as the little fella went to town.
Entertaining but not enough to keep me awake.
A yawn cracked my jaw and I stretched. “Bedtime for me. I’ve got a full back tattoo to do tomorrow.
” In other words, a full freaking day hunched over with intense focus.
I needed my rest. My pillow called and I answered, falling asleep quickly, waking only when my alarm went off.
However, rather than roll out of bed, I lay still, for my new friend lay snuggled against me, his tail wrapped around his body. And was it me, or did he seem bigger? Probably needed to shit out that massive steak.
Little fella protested when I shifted him to get out of bed, making a growling, protesting noise.
“Calm down. You can stay there if you want, but some of us need to work and pay the bills,” I grumbled.
My dumb ass then proceeded to tuck my blanket around it. Dumb because who left a wild animal in their home while they went to work? I’d probably return to everything chewed to shit and lizard poop and pee stinking up the place, but call me a softie, I didn’t have the heart to toss him outside.
I made myself coffee and slathered butter on an everything bagel—stale since I’d forgotten I had it in the breadbox.
Since I had two, I also toasted an extra for the little fella and left it on a plate on the floor because I just knew he’d be hungry when he got up.
I also put down some paper towels by the door.
Could you piddle pad train a lizard? Guess we’d see.
With my goggles over my eyes and wearing my leather pants, jacket, and shit kickers, I headed into work on my motorcycle, my platinum hair streaming.
No, I didn’t wear a helmet. Yes, that was against the law.
Did I care? Not really. I had a friend who survived a motorcycle accident because he wore a lid.
Ended up a quadriplegic. I admired his resiliency in dealing with his disability even as I knew I’d lack the same fortitude. Hence why I took chances.
The road had more traffic than usual heading away from the city.
Despite the evacuation and trauma of the nearby exploding volcano, Terrace had never been busier.
Crazy ass folks came in from all over, wanting to see the lava rivulets up close.
It led to more walk-ins at our shop than normal, which ended up being good for me since my appointment had to cancel, changing his mind about wanting his girlfriend’s face on his back since he caught her cheating with his sister.
Sounded like a Jerry Springer special to me.
When I got a break in people wanting on-the-spot mini tattoos memorializing their visit—most opting for volcanoes, with one client having me make the spewing rocks into hearts—I popped out to run an errand.
If Little Fella was going to be sticking around, I should probably invest in some lizard-appropriate food.
Didn’t they eat like insects and stuff? Sure, it scarfed down a steak and loved ice cream, but that likely was not healthy.
Not to mention, I couldn’t afford to feed it thirty dollar steaks every day.
Given its carnivorous proclivity, I wondered what kind of lizard I’d found.
An internet search of local wildlife didn’t show anything resembling my little fella.
Luckily for me, the pet store up the street, Leaping Lizards, specialized in reptiles.
I walked in and wrinkled my nose. The place stank of animal, most likely because of the many glass aquariums featuring a variety of scaly critters.
I browsed the many available species: geckos, bearded dragons, snakes. None looked like my friend at home.
“Can I help you?”