Need Security? Enter The Squamata
By Carlos Eton
Using the nocturnal darkness as an ally, the intruder stealthily and adroitly breached the security mechanisms without incident. Under the cover of night, he successfully bypassed the seemingly impenetrable structure and gained entry to the to the data center of the previously invulnerable fortress. No one had witnessed his stealthy intrusion.
I certainly didn’t. In fact, I almost stepped on him!
“How the heck did you get in here?” I asked him, not really expecting an answer.
Mr. Lizard did not respond. Even though he was in my apartment, he just glared at me as if I was the trespasser. As if I somehow entered his apartment without proper authorization, documentation, and identification.
Lizards, members of the Squamata order of the Reptillia class (don’t worry–I had to look it up also), are generally pretty quiet when being interrogated by their human hosts. Well, maybe not host—I don’t remember inviting him into my apartment. He could have at least brought wine. Chocolate and Portuguese white port would have been nice.
“Seriously! How did you get in here?” I asked again. Like before, Mr. Lizard remained silent. (I wondered if he had ever been a defendant in court. He’d make a great defense witness. “Where were you on the night of October thirty-fourth?” Silence. “Did you see the man on the Grassy Knoll?” Silence. “Did you pay the electric bill?” Silence.) He continued his noiseless gaze even as I gently picked him up and placed him outside next to the budding palm tree in the yard.
As I watched the lizard scale the palm, I began to wonder. How do the lizards and papaya-sized centipedes get inside my apartment in the first place? There are no holes in the screens and no subterranean tunnels in the kitchen cupboards or secret passageways in the closets. Star Trek teleporters and time machines don’t exist yet.
Does Mr. Lizard have a small burglary kit? Tiny little lock picks? A miniature blowtorch? A diminutive crowbar and Slim Jim? A black mask and turtleneck sweater? Maybe Mr. Lizard has an invisibility cloak? How about Valium laced dog biscuits to subdue overzealous guard dogs? Regardless of how he does it, I was quite impressed with his talent. Maybe he’s really Agent Lizard, a seasoned MI6 secret agent. In my mind I gave him spy music and dialogue. “Bond. Lizard Bond. I’ll have a Martini. Shaken, not stirred.”
My random mind began to contemplate how his remarkable skill set can be used for the benefit of humankind.
Then it hit me! Mr. Lizard can be a security industry consultant!
My random mind began to contemplate how his remarkable skill set can be used for the benefit of humankind.
We can jet Mr. Lizard to the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox, Kentucky to see if he can breach the World’s most advanced security system—the security system that safeguards the nation’s gold reserves. He alone can find the weaknesses in the security system if they exist and make the world safe for us all.
I’m willing to bet he can do it, too! I was tempted to ask him but already knew what his response would be.
Then, after that, he can safeguard prisons by exposing possible escape routes. Heck, I bet Mr. Lizard can even find James Hoffa or the D.B. Cooper stolen money if he puts his mind to it. Maybe Mr. Lizard’s security prowess can transform and establish the Virgin Islands as the principal international center of the security industry. Anything is possible, right?
I glanced at Mr. Lizard one more time as the reptilian fantasy morphed into something resembling common sense driven by the need to prepare lunch.
“Bye, Mr. Lizard.” I saluted before returning to my apartment.
“Oh, no!” I exclaimed stopping in mid step. “How the heck did you get inside?”
The second lizard just stared up at me. A true stoic and silent Squamata. I giggled quietly for thinking he was to break reptilian tradition and actually tell me how he bypassed my rather anemic security mechanisms. Part of me was tempted to look for his burglary kit but stopped short of actually doing so.
After all, this time I knew how he entered. I left the front door open.
The Random Safari Express, a serial feature column by senior UVI Communication student and humorist Carlos Eton, celebrates comedy, philosophy, and the thousand (often ridiculous) random thoughts that pop into our heads during the quiet moments of our day.
