Blue Shoe Lake
How It All Began
Every story has a beginning. Some just begin with a BOOM!
BLUE SHOE LAKE
The Blue Lake Boom
Blue Shoe Lake was a picture of serenity that morning.
A light fog hovered just above the water, and hundreds of tiny ripples appeared across the surface as fish rose for breakfast, snatching up whatever unfortunate bug happened to be floating by.
It was peaceful.
Quiet.
Perfect.
And then…
BOOOOOOOOM!
What would eventually become known around those parts as “The Blue Lake Boom” shook the lake from one end to the other.
An explosion ripped through an old science research building hidden back in the woods.
Smoke billowed through the trees.
Windows shattered.
The ground shook.
Folks who claimed to have witnessed the event said they saw fish jumping clean out of the lake and landing on shore.
Birds flew from the trees in such a panic they were flapping their feathers clean off their bodies trying to escape the smoke and noise.
It was a crazy sight.
Critters diving for cover.
Fish flopping around on dry land.
And naked birds trying desperately to fly away with nothing but determination and embarrassment keeping them airborne.
Then, through the smoke…
Two small alligators appeared.
They were running as fast as little alligators can run.
One was unusual.
Very unusual.
She was completely white, with two bright pink eyes.
And she was leading the way.
The other little gator followed right behind her, matching every turn she made.
When she went left, he went left.
When she went right, he went right.
When she ducked beneath a fallen branch, he ducked beneath it too.
Through the smoke.
Through the confusion.
Through terrified squirrels and naked birds…
He followed her.
Finally, the two little gators broke through the trees and reached the shore of Blue Shoe Lake.
They stopped.
For just a moment.
The white one looked out across the enormous stretch of water.
Then she made her decision.
She slipped into the lake and headed toward the deeper water.
The other little gator followed.
At least…
He tried.
Without warning, a massive old log rolled up from the bottom of the lake.
BLOOOOSH!
It surfaced directly between them.
The little gator stopped.
He scrambled around one end.
Nothing.
He tried the other.
Nothing.
By the time he finally made it past…
The little white gator was gone.
He searched the water.
He waited.
But he couldn’t see those pink eyes anywhere.
For the first time since the explosion…
He was alone.
The little gator looked toward the deep water where his friend had disappeared.
Then back toward the safety of the shoreline.
Finally, he made a decision of his own.
He would stay close to the bank.
So one little alligator disappeared into the deep waters of Blue Shoe Lake.
And the other remained near the shore.
Neither one could possibly have known where life would take them.
Or that many years later…
Blue Shoe Lake would bring them together again.
Blue Shoe Lake
Petty As A Picture
It was a very unusual morning on Blue Shoe Lake for Miss Honey.
At least, that’s what everybody called her when she was around regular folks.
Which wasn’t very often.
Her real given name was Honeysuckle Pearl Thomas.
But to everybody who knew her, she was simply Miss Honey.
Miss Honey and her husband Earl had lived for many years in an ancient Southern plantation home overlooking Blue Shoe Lake.
She was a tiny woman.
But folks around the lake said she had the biggest heart of anybody who lived there.
It had been a few months since what everybody was now calling The Blue Lake Boom, and somehow nothing had seemed quite the same since.
Especially for Miss Honey.
Her dear Earl had gone to see Jesus.
And she missed him terribly.
Every morning for more years than she could remember, Miss Honey and Earl had walked down to the lake together.
They fed the fish.
Watched the birds.
Talked about nothing in particular.
And admired the beauty God had put right there in front of them.
But now Miss Honey made that walk alone.
This particular morning she sat in her old rocking chair on the big front porch with a cup of coffee in her hands.
She liked hers black with exactly one spoonful of milk.
No sugar.
Earl liked his black too…
…with a couple spoonfuls of instant coffee thrown in for character.
Miss Honey had told him for fifty years that putting instant coffee into regular coffee made absolutely no sense.
Earl had told her for fifty years that she didn’t understand coffee.
So every morning…
Miss Honey still made two cups.
Hers.
And Earl’s.
She would set his beside hers in the empty chair just like he was fixin’ to come through that old door, sit down, and share the morning with her.
Of course…
He never did.
After she finished her coffee, Miss Honey picked up Earl’s cup and carried it down to the lake.
She had developed a little ritual.
Every morning she poured Earl’s coffee into Blue Shoe Lake.
Partly to honor him.
Partly because it made her feel like they were still taking their morning walk together.
And partly…
…because she had decided the fish might like coffee too.
It was on this particular morning, as Miss Honey approached the water, that something suddenly darted from the shoreline.
SPLASH!
Miss Honey stopped.
“Well now…”
She reached down and picked up a good-sized stick.
There had been stories about a giant snake around Blue Shoe Lake.
And Miss Honey wasn’t particularly interested in becoming acquainted with him.
She carefully scanned the water.
Nothing.
Then…
On the other side of a patch of marsh grass…
…two pink eyes were staring directly at her.
Miss Honey tightened her grip on the stick.
Whatever it was…
It definitely wasn’t that big old snake.
The pink eyes didn’t move.
They just watched her.
Miss Honey watched back.
Finally she smiled.
“Well, good mornin’, you pretty thang, you.”
The eyes blinked.
Miss Honey leaned forward slightly.
“Come on up and let me see how petty you are, my dear.”
Nothing happened.
Then Miss Honey looked down at Earl’s coffee.
“Hmmm.”
She walked to the edge of the water and very slowly began pouring Earl’s coffee into the lake.
Then she dipped her hand into the water and gently moved it in circles, pushing the coffee farther out toward the mysterious little creature.
The brown cloud drifted across the surface.
Closer.
Closer.
Until it reached the pink eyes.
The eyes disappeared.
Miss Honey stood still.
“Oh…”
For a moment she wondered if she’d frightened it away.
Then the water moved.
The creature was coming closer.
Slowly…
A white snout broke the surface.
Then a head.
Miss Honey’s mouth fell open.
It was an alligator.
But not like any alligator she’d ever seen.
This one was completely white.
And its eyes…
Were bright pink.
“Well, would you look at you.”
The little albino alligator remained in the water.
Watching.
Waiting.
Miss Honey crouched near the shoreline.
“Come on, petty lady.”
She held up the coffee cup.
“Come on up and see me. I got more coffee for you.”
The little gator moved closer.
Miss Honey smiled.
Closer still.
Until finally she could see every beautiful white scale.
Miss Honey slowly lowered the stick.
She wasn’t afraid anymore.
“Well, aren’t you just as petty as a picture.”
The little gator blinked.
Miss Honey smiled even wider.
“Just petty as a picture.”
She looked down at the empty coffee cup in her hand.
Then back at those extraordinary pink eyes.
And for the first time since Earl had gone to see Jesus…
Miss Honey didn’t feel quite so alone.
Blue Shoe Lake
The Wedding That Wasn't
Mark sat at the breakfast table and patiently waited for the new toaster to pop out the bread. The jar of fresh blackberry preserves was already open and waiting.
Finally, the toast popped.
Mark stared at it.
“Well, at least the damn toaster works.”
The cabin looked like Christmas had come, gotten drunk, and forgotten to clean up after itself.
Boxes were everywhere. Some were still wrapped in decorative paper. Others had been torn open, their contents spilling onto chairs, tables, and the floor.
Wedding presents.
Mark buttered his toast and spooned on a generous helping of blackberry preserves.
He had awakened the morning before at sunrise and gotten himself ready for what he thought was going to be the happiest day of his life.
He had cleaned himself up.
He had even shaved.
Yes. Shaved.
Because she had asked him to.
She had bought him a fine new suit and some fancy-smelling cologne for the big day. Mark didn’t know how to tie a necktie, so she’d tied it ahead of time and left it where all he had to do was slip it over his head and cinch it up.
Even that nearly whipped him.
The shoes had been worse.
He was completely out of his element when they’d gone shopping for them. Mark had spotted a mighty fine pair of boots, but apparently boots weren’t appropriate for whatever kind of wedding she had in mind.
She wanted shiny shoes.
So Mark got shiny shoes.
Standing in front of the mirror that morning, wearing his new suit, shiny shoes, fancy cologne, and a necktie that felt like somebody was trying to choke him, he hardly recognized himself.
She had even cleaned his cabin.
Everything was neat and tidy and smelled good—if you happened to like the smell of an entire basket of flowers being dumped in every room.
Mark looked himself up and down in the mirror.
He made a finger pistol at his reflection and winked.
“You clean up pretty good for a swamp man, Mr. Mark.”
Then, whistling Dixie, he took a deep breath and headed through the brand-new screen door he’d installed because she didn’t want any skeeters getting inside.
That afternoon, Mark came home not knowing whether to cut bait or fish.
She did it!
Right in front of God and everybody.
She never came.
She never showed up.
No note.
No call.
Nothing!
Mark kicked in the brand-new screen door on his way into the cabin.
The suit went first.
Right into the lake.
Then the shirt.
Then the pants.
He struggled with that damn necktie for a while before finally yanking it off and looking at it.
“Might save you. Make a good starter rope for the outboard when the old one breaks.”
Soon Mark was standing on the dock in nothing but his underwear and those ridiculous shiny shoes.
He looked down at the shoes.
“Well, what the hell.”
He kicked one off and chunked it as far as he could.
Then the other.
SPLASH.
SPLASH.
He stood there for a moment.
Then he looked down at the brand-new tighty-whities she’d bought him.
“Oh, why not?”
Off they came.
Mark wound them around over his head like a cowboy fixing to rope a steer and sent them sailing out over Blue Shoe Lake.
A couple of fish surfaced nearby to investigate.
“Don’t eat ‘em,” Mark hollered. “You’ll regret it.”
Somewhere across the lake came the unmistakable sound of laughter.
Mark froze.
More laughter.
“Billy!”
The laughter got louder.
Standing there nekkid before God, Billy, the fish, and apparently anybody else who happened to be looking, Mark raised both hands and extended two middle fingers toward the other side of the lake.
“HEY, BILLY! YOU CAN BITE ME!”
That only made the laughter worse.
Mark turned toward the cabin.
Then he stopped.
Something was moving through the water.
Something white.
He squinted.
His underwear.
His brand-new underwear was coming back.
Slowly.
Straight toward the dock.
“What the hell is going on here?”
The underwear floated closer.
And closer.
Until they bumped against the dock right beside his feet.
Mark leaned over and picked them up.
Something was underneath them.
Two little eyes looked up at him.
Mark stared.
A little alligator stared back.
Neither one moved.
The little gator blinked.
Mark suddenly became aware that he was standing completely naked in front of an alligator.
Now, considering everything else that had happened that day, modesty probably shouldn’t have been high on his list of concerns.
But it was.
“Don’t you judge me.”
The little gator blinked again.
Mark backed toward the cabin.
The gator followed.
Mark stopped.
The gator stopped.
Mark took another step.
The gator followed again.
“Oh, hell no.”
Mark grabbed his wet underwear, slipped them back on, and went through what was left of the new screen door.
He rummaged around the kitchen and found a biscuit left over from breakfast.
When he stepped back outside, the little alligator was still there.
Waiting.
Mark tossed him the biscuit.
CHOMP!
Gone.
The little critter looked up as if Mark had just served him the finest meal ever prepared on Blue Shoe Lake.
Mark rubbed his freshly shaved chin.
For the first time all afternoon, the corner of his mouth turned upward.
“Well now…”
The little gator waited.
Mark looked back at the boxes scattered around the cabin.
Then at the broken screen door.
Then out across the lake where his expensive new suit was slowly sinking into oblivion.
Finally, he looked down at the little alligator.
“I think I may have just got something for all this aggravation after all.”
The little gator opened his mouth.
Mark smiled.
Neither one of them knew it yet.
But a friendship had just begun.