Alligator Hunters • Tag Out Strong | FUNNIES

Act 1: Da Tee-Tiny Blues

ANNOUNCER

Welcome to da bayou! Season’s windin’ down… tags runnin’ low… — Let's catch up with King of the Swamp, Troi and see what he's up to.

Early morning. Troi alone in his boat. Only three embarrassingly little lifeless gators riding with him. He stares at them.

TROI

(Cajun accent) Look at dese tee-tiny tings. Gaw, das all I got so far? Oh well… dat’s what we here for. To catch us da big ones.

He stands slowly, winces hard, and stretches.

TROI

Pah. Baw, my back is killin’ me. All season tuggin’ dem over da side. I’m tryin’ to end dis season strong… finish out dese here tags. But, dis old body… she ain’t what she used to be. Huh?

He chuckles and then squints across the water. He spots a big set of eyes, and raises the rifle.

TROI

Look at dat. Kiaw, look at da size a dat gator. Baw, he comin' home wit me.

Troi raises the rifle. Misses. The gator vanishes.

TROI

Muddafricka! It’s no use takin’ anotha shot or he’s neva gonna come up fa air.

Troi looks around the boat, frustrated, then leans over to grab something and freezes in pain.

TROI

(winces) Fricken back. I got to get dese big gators. (looks at his gear) Speakin’ of… I need to get da winch. (leans further) Pah… awe, I ain’t even got da treble hook. What good is da king of da swamp if I can’t even catch me no big gators?

He sits down heavy, takes his hat off and wipes his face with that arm. The gator pops up super far away.

TROI

(scrunches a frown) I'ma get me dat sucka. Watch.

Act 2: Ole Mr. Bossy

Gramps (the Creole Chieftain) and Big Boy (enthusiastic sharpshooter) are riding in their boat. Gramps is re-tying a loop Big Boy just finished.

GRAMPS

(steady, slow) Naw, naw… dat loop ain’t right. My paw was always rough. He didn’t say do dis or do dat to me—he’d just knock you clean off like you should have known better.

BIG BOY

(side-eyed grin) Well, you ain't my daddy, but you definitely old enough.

GRAMPS

(re-ties the knot tighter) I'll still knock you one.

Big Boy raises the rifle and spots eyes way across the canal, gunfire rings out and the bullet zips across the water and drops the gator with one clean shot from over a hundred yards. Gramps stops tying the knot and looks over so fast he almost pulls a muscle.

GRAMPS

(shocked) Gat-dam, boy! That was more dan a dam football field. How da fuc' you shot dat?

BIG BOY

Don't worry about it.

GRAMPS

Did you bring the secret magic juice or something?

BIG BOY

Yeah, I brought it. But, I didn't drink any if that's what you're getting at.

GRAMPS

Well, it's not. But, I wouldn't put it past you.

BIG BOY

(giggles) You wild.

Big boy carries on reloading his gun and wiping it down as they putter across the water to get the gator. They haul the big one in.

GRAMPS

It costs more getting to the gator than it does shooting him.

BIG BOY

Lighten up, tight pants. We got us a good one.

GRAMPS

If we can even get the dam thang in the boat.

BIG BOY

As long as I’m helpin’ you, the rest don’t matter. Let’s go find another one, bossypants.

GRAMPS

(almost smiles) Just keep shootin’ like that and maybe we finish the tags without goin’ broke.

BIG BOY

(side-eyes crazy) We ain't going broke.

Act 3: I Know a Spot

Leeroy (one leg up as he steers) and Choppy (slow and steady scouting) are riding in their boat, navigating debris-choked water.

LEEROY

Mmm, mmm. This water ain't right.

Choppy is watching the pattern the motor leaves in the duckweed floating on top of the water. He looks at Leeroy.

CHOPPY

Go ahead and say it.

LEEROY

I know a spot.

CHOPPY

Dere it is. What is it now?

LEEROY

It's a place where dey got all da crawfish. You 'memba dat spot I told you about when we was at da bar de udda day?

CHOPPY

Yeah, I 'memba dat. It's da place you said you nevuh wanted to go back to cuzza da mosquitoes.

LEEROY

We catchin' gators or not? I'ma do what I gotta. We taggin' out.

CHOPPY

I got an idea.

LEEROY

Oh, here we go.

CHOPPY

Nah, I'm for real! I brought da Cajun Butter!

LEEROY

Cajun Butta? Da fuc'?

CHOPPY

It's got garlic. Dey don't like garlic.

Leeroy looks puzzled and reluctant to try it.

LEEROY

Man… I don't know about dis.

CHOPPY

You said it yourself. You gotta do what you gotta.

Leeroy sighs and starts applying the butter to his skin. They arrive and set bait. A big gator hits hard before they even get to their second line. They stop and look at each other for a moment — then immediately scramble to get their ass back over to the line.

LEEROY

(pulling hard) Oh, yeah… we got dis! Bruh… I know dese waters better than anybody.

CHOPPY

(ready to shoot) Easy now. Let him tire. I’m watchin’ the boat—you watch the line.

They get the gator up. Leeroy is already talking his shit.

LEEROY

Man, this one’s goin’ in the étouffée. Or maybe the food truck special. We ain't sellin this one. Dat gumbo’s gonna slap tonight.

CHOPPY

(raises brows, looks) If you cooking dat thang, then pay me my half.

LEEROY

You wanna eat?

Choppy says nothing and lowers his head.

LEEROY

Uh huh. Dat's wat I thawt. Shuh-cho mout. We fidna eat!

LEEROY

(pulls the gator in) Welp, gator. You cost me money today. (tags 'em) Let's go get us anudda one.

They take off to the next line.

Act 4: Ramp Riot

Late afternoon at the busy boat ramp. Everybody’s there. Troi comes sputtering in with his usual boat overflowing so bad the gunwales are nearly underwater. Gators are stacked high.

TROI

(grinning proudly, yells) Look at dat haul, baw! Hoo, hoo, hoo! King of da swamp still got it!

GRAMPS

(stops winching boat) Gat-dam.

Suddenly one of the “dead” gators thrashes hard, jaws snapping near the rifle. Everyone freezes and stares.

TROI

Pwhoa, shit!

WILLY

(treble hook in hand) Shoot um!

The gator clams down on the rifle. Troi wrestles the rifle away, and getting cut from the thrashing gator. He gets a clear shot, and fires. The gunfire echoes out into the clearing. He wipes tremendous sweat from his brow, takes his hat off, and exhales hard.

TROI

Phew!

The whole ramp erupts in laughter and cheers.

JUNEBUG

Dat’s why dey call him da kang, bah!

REMMIE

Coo-yie! What a catch, huh?

TROI

I'll say. He almost caught me!

Troi puts the gun down and laughs.

ASHY

(hiking her pants) Troi! You better stop goin' out there by yaself!

TROI

(yells back) Well, you wanna come wit me next time? I won't mind lookin' at ya!

Ashy blushes.

JIMMY

Teamwork, Paw! See?

AVERAGE JOE

Boy. He almost put himself in an early grave… again.

Just then, Brute motors up with his dog Wilder in an oversized pontoon boat loaded with smokers, coolers, folding tables, a whole feast setup, beer pong and a karaoke machine blarin'. Brute is wearing a tiny party hat.

BRUTE

(arms wide) Boy, we eatin’ good tonight! I got de smokas runnin’, the lard hot, and enough bacon-wrapped everythang to feed da whole bayou. Who’s hungry?

CHOPPY

I brought da Cajun Butter.

LEEROY

Dis muhfugga.

GLIZ

I don't know if I wanna eat or help Troi unload his boat. Did you see all his gators?

BRUTE

(laughing, already plating) Seen it? I might just be his buyer. That's a lot of food. Here, Wilder. Get your Ding Dong and scoot.

Wilder wags his tail and takes his treat from off a paper plate. Everyone gathers around the pontoon as the sun sets..

ANNOUNCER

Tags filled, backs sore, bellies full… Join us next time… on da bayou!