
A young, determined blonde tourist was enjoying her vacation in the vibrant, humid streets of New Orleans. While browsing a high-end boutique in the French Quarter, she fell absolutely in love with a pair of genuine, handcrafted alligator-skin shoes. However, one glance at the price tag was enough to send her into immediate sticker shock.
Refusing to be ripped off by “tourist trap” prices, she huffed, turned on her heel, and marched straight out of the store. But instead of heading back to her hotel, she had a brilliantly flawed idea. She rented a pickup truck, bought a shotgun, and headed straight for the murky, mosquito-filled Louisiana bayou.
Later that evening, as the very same boutique shopkeeper was driving home along a winding swamp road, he slowed down, rubbing his eyes in sheer disbelief.
There, standing waist-deep in the dark, algae-covered water, was the blonde tourist. She was holding a shotgun with fierce determination, staring down a massive, twelve-foot alligator that was slowly closing in on her.
Without flinching, she raised the weapon, took careful aim, and fired. BANG! The creature dropped instantly, hit right between the eyes.
The shopkeeper watched in absolute amazement as she waded to the muddy bank and began the grueling struggle of hauling the massive carcass out of the water. But as his eyes adjusted to the twilight, he noticed something truly horrifying: lined up neatly on the embankment were five other enormous, dead alligators.
The blonde wiped the swamp water from her forehead, looked down at her latest conquest, and threw her hands up in pure, unadulterated frustration.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she shouted in absolute dismay. “This one isn’t wearing any shoes either!”
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