How It Is- A-Reptile-Dysfunction

"OH MY GOSH LOOK!" I'm in the passenger seat of my friend Allen's car, and we're stopped at a red light, when I notice something off to my right.

"We HAVE to go!" I beg.
"What about Gator Golf?" Allen pouts.

It was 110 degrees outside, I had on an ill-thought-out sweater, and we'd just engorged ourselves on pizza. Yet he was STILL convinced he was going to absolutely KILL me at a game of Gator Golf.

Well we can still go, I just want to stop by THERE first!" I point. "Oh okay..." he sighs, jokingly.

We turn around, and head back in the opposite direction, pulling into the parking lot. It takes about ten seconds to realize this was probably a huge mistake. "The Reptile Museum" looked nothing like a museum at all.

The parking lot was littered with trash, and cracked pavement, while tufts of overgrown weeds had made the building their designated climbing spots.

The (broken) blinds were down, revealing yellow stains, and caked dirt visible from the lot. It gave the presence of a long-abandoned estate, yet there were cars parked directly in front of the entrance.

A hand written sign declared "OPEN", and it shriveled against a glass door that gave way into a completely darkened lobby. Again, all of this was visible from the inside of the (now locked) vehicle we hadn't even bothered to place in park.

Having done my share of time in the Chicago Public School system, I knew the danger signs. Nothing screamed "METH LAB!!!!" louder than the mysterious movement looming within the shadows.

Not a trace of Reptilia to be seen.

I look at Allen. He looks at me. We both look at the "Museum".

And we haul booty out of there.

Because we can always stop by Petco to see a lizard.
Because the only snakes in that building were the ones running the place. Because I STILL won Gator Golf by a landslide (and I'd never even played before).
Because that's just How It Is.