My sister, we’ll call her Ass-Flap, was recently doing a stretch in the Peace Corps serving in the Dominican Republic. Ass-Flap’s job was basically to help the natives masturbate better or some shit (less use of a machete during the act and more use of mangoes). Honestly, there isn’t a more noble cause in all of the world; JFK, if he were alive, would certainly agree.
Aside from the DR being home to a bunch of self-gratifying freak-bitches, the island also houses a galactically large salt-water lake called Lago Enriquillo. Lago Enriquillo is absolutely teeming with American crocodiles. Freak-bitches and crocs? You had my curiosity, Dominican Republic, but now you have my attention.
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Lago Enriquillo
After a 7-hour fart filled bus ride (seriously, this Haitian lady let a massive detonation rip on the bus that became a hilarious talking point for the passengers), Ass-Flap and I arrived at Lago Enriquillo.
Here is what I can tell you about the largest salt-water lake in the western hemisphere – it’s in the desert on the border of the Dominican Republic and Haiti, it’s gigantic, and it’s getting bigger. Remember that earthquake back in 2010 that pretty much leveled Haiti? Well, that earthquake had a strange impact on the lake – it made the lake get much, much bigger.
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As Lago Enriquillo grew it overran the surrounding forest, farmland, and any lakeside property. The former lakeside is now a terrifying ghost forest decorated with partially submerged buildings.
The dead forests aren’t a total loss as lake-birds have re-purposed them for nesting sites.
Where there are bird nests there are awkward baby birds…awkward baby birds that sometimes fall out of the nest and into the lake. In the water something lovable and murderous is waiting to welcome them.
Ass-Flap and I cruised the lake via boat marveling at the expanse of the dead forests and the massive amount of lurking crocodiles. Then, we had a delightful encounter with a big boss crocodile and his harem of super-fly honeys, the world famous Murder-Log Crew, while they were relaxing on the beach sipping some Presidente beer.
When we drifted to within 15 feet of the Murder-Log Crew all of them exploded from their chaise lounges and into the water. Boss Croc and the super-fly honeys surrounded the boat and eye-balled us with grim intent as we drifted through their hood.
Naturally, I assumed that the Murder-Log Crew was surrounding us because they didn’t like the vibe that Ass-Flap gives off. I totally get that – she has a vibe about her that makes animals and small children feel like they are in the presence of true evil. And the Murder-Log Crew did indeed have some small children to protect…
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With the Murder-Log Crew clearly not having any of Ass-Flap’s aura of dread, we backed that ass up out their nursery and headed back to town. In town, we got liquored up on our own ration of Presidente beer that would put the Murder-Log Crew’s ration to shame. Drunkenly, we regaled the locals with slurred tales of crocodiles (she slurred and regaled in Spanish while I quietly got blackout drunk). Why the slurred regaling?
Because it is important for people that live near incredible wildlife to know why you are in their area.
Because it is important for them to understand that they are making money because you are there specifically to see the wildlife.
Ultimately, exotic wildlife, especially dangerous animals like crocodiles, can best be conserved by the people that live with them. If local people realize that their exotic wildlife neighbors are worth more alive than dead then there is an extra motive for conservation. The people in the town by Lago Enriquillo got mad-rich on crocodile money that night, I can assure you!
Now, about those freak-bitches…
The End,
Ass-Flap’s Brother
