What time is it?
I’ve been waiting patiently for my friends at the aquarium lobby for over half an hour, what could be possibly taking them so long?
I continue laying my head on the back of my wooden seat, eyeing the slow-moving fish in a small tank on the granite counter.  They zip around the tank and brush the tiny pebbles at the bottom.
Suddenly, someone taps on my shoulder. Jon.
“Where have you been, studying? ” I ask sarcastically. We both laugh. “No,” Marla says, stepping out from behind him. “We actually got some ice cream, here,” she hands me an ice cream cone, I notice some has already started trailing down the sides.
    “Well it’s about time,” I take it from her and start licking at the drips. The cold, chocolate cream is refreshing on such a hot day like this.
    “I already gave the booth our tickets, let’s just get inside already,” I say, they nod. Marla pushes open the glass doors, “Where are we going first? I suggest the turtle exhibit, it’s close.”
    “Alright, then the stingrays,” Jon says. We all agree and head towards the right, for that’s where the signs direct us.
    After petting a few stingrays and listening to a few children screaming with excitement we finally go see the dolphins. On our way over Jon starts rubbing his ear, “Those kids’ screams were terrifyingly ear piercing, that’s all I can seem to hear now.” I nod my head in agreement. “Well, you're lucky you don’t have to listen to that every waking moment. My niece is like a scream machine,” Marla exaggerates.
We reach the dolphin exhibit, which is surprisingly ‘temporarily’ closed for the season. “What? They didn’t close down the dolphin exhibit for the season last year, or the year before that,” Marla complains. “The owners probably shut the exhibit down because they couldn’t afford it. Have you seen this place?- It’s almost like a desert now, everyone is excited about DisneyLand instead,” I say.
“Oh well, let’s go see the alligators then, looks like they’re still here,” Jon says, pointing to a sign displayed in a large, glass case on the left. Marla sighs, ”Sure”.
We head over to the alligators, which have surely attracted plenty of attention. Toddlers yell and point at them, one kid practically fainted because he thought one was going to snap his leg off.
“Wait, you guys I have a wicked idea!” says Jon. “I could go back up to the place where you can watch the alligators from above and you guys and can stay down here and- Lisa, do you have your camera with you?”
“Yea, how stupid do you think I am?” He ignores my question and keeps explaining. “Both of you could stay down here and take photos,” then he sprints back up the ramp.
“Did you get any of that?” Marla asks. “Not even a word,” I reply.
I can see a blurry figure of Jon through the water, climbing over the gate. He gets on one of the fake rocks and pretends like he’s about to fall in. I’m close to screaming, and Marla’s going nuts. I take a few photos of him on the rock, almost like he’s some sort of model. His idiotic model poses aren’t making me any more secure, considering his masculinity. Jon vogues and I snicker at it.
“What is he doing? He is going to get himself killed!” Marla yells. “Oh well, at least he will learn his lesson,” I say. Marla glares at me, “I’m kidding,” I say, rolling my eyes. No I wasn’t.
I begin to wonder why no one has really noticed him yet or even tried getting him out of there.
Jon makes goofy, scared, dramatic-you name it- faces. It seems to be all fun and games until Jon slips. And I’m pretty sure you know what happens next. Two seconds later, Jon is swimming with the alligators. I’m still taking pictures, but Marla and I are shrieking our heads off. Jon tries swimming back to the surface but the rocks are too round and slippery to climb back onto. “Somebody, anybody help him!” Marla demands.
Finally, some workers go and try to reach for him. The alligators continue their nonchalant swimming, not realizing what is going on above them. Jon gasps for air, paddling like a dog and is soon pulled out, drenched in dirty swamp water.
Marla and I wait on one of the benches until Jon is back. “I wonder if he’s okay. I mean, alligators?” She sighs. A few minutes later, Jon is wrapped in a towel and looks as exhausted as ever. “I’m tired, we should go,” he says. I laugh, ”Yeah, maybe you’re right.” We all break out laughing like a group of psychopaths.
Jon begins, “Oh right, I also found an alligator tooth on one of the rocks,” he pulls it out, a yellow, moss-covered almost fossil. “Nice, at least something good comes out of this incident,” I quip. “Yeah, don’t mention it,” he laughs. “Well I’m sure I won’t make that mistake again.”
I don’t quite believe him, this is surely not the last of his shenanigans.