Some Salamander
“Ah, my beauty,” said Marvin, admiring Harold, his pet salamander. “You are a shoo-in for first prize, or my name’s not Marvin Cranford.” Marvin was entering Harold into the National Amphibious Pet Contest and could not contain his exhilaration. I had advised Marvin against getting Harold as a pet. Although Marvin had an affinity for animals, he did not have a good track record. His experiences with animals almost always ended in death, despair and heartache. Marvin responded by saying that the same could be said about life. I had to admit that he had a point, despite my misgivings.
At the contest, we gathered in the display tent while the judge gave a speech. “I hope you all enjoy today’s proceedings,” he said. “Despite the record number of entrants to this year’s contest, there’s nothing newt here.” He paused as the small crowd laughed.
Marvin looked over at me, puzzled. I rolled my eyes in response.
“Without any further ado, ladies and gentlemen,” the judge continued. “I proclaim the seventy-fourth National Amphibious Pet Contest open!”
“Check this out,” Marvin said excitedly and directed me to Harold’s bowl. At the bottom of the bowl, written in orange pebbles, were the words Some Salamander.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked Marvin.
Marvin shrugged his shoulders, winked at me and walked away to the other side of the tent.
As I was admiring the other entrants, I was startled by a shriek from Marvin. I rushed over to see him standing in front of a fish tank containing an axolotl, twice the size of Harold. “Oh, this is bad. Bad!” said Marvin, pressing his hands against his face. “Look at the size of this thing!”
“It might not win.”
“What are you, stupid?” Marvin retorted. “Harold has no chance, unless -” He stopped and looked at me with a wild countenance. “You create a diversion, and whatever happens,” he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “do not come over here.”
I walked over to Harold’s bowl, trying to remain calm. I took a deep breath and called out, “Look at this! This is some salamander!” People turned their heads towards me and walked over to see what all the commotion was about. I looked across the tent to Marvin, who had put both his arms in the axolotl’s tank. With a sharp jerk and a splash, Marvin removed his hands from the tank and gave me a thumbs up.
Marvin inconspicuously made his way to me, with a smug look on his face. His arms were dripping with water, and I could see that his hand was clenched, as if he were holding onto something.
“What’s in your hand?” I asked him.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” replied Marvin.
“Show me,” I demanded and grabbed at his arm. Marvin pushed me away, but I wouldn’t let go. I tugged and pulled, trying to pry his hand open. Finally, he released his grip and opened his hand to reveal the severed head of the axolotl. There was a gasp from the onlookers.
“Death, despair and heartache,” I said, shaking my head. I picked up Harold’s bowl and made for the exit.
“You don’t understand! Harold was a sure winner!” pleaded Marvin as the group of onlookers closed in on him. “He’s some salamander!” he screamed, but his screams weren’t answered. At least, not by me.