When your night shift started, a familiar knot of anxiety settled in your stomach. You knew you’d have to keep a careful eye out for Monty, the alligator animatronic. His reputation preceded him—aggressive, unpredictable, and with a flair for making every shift feel like a high-stakes game of cat and mouse. You silently prayed tonight would be uneventful.

The dim glow of the security lights guided your steps toward Monty’s Gator Golf. You crept through the corridors, each metallic clang or distant whir making your pulse spike. As you approached the green room, you hoped he wasn’t mid-rampage, avoiding another night of overturned furniture and broken props.

And there he was. Sat nonchalantly on the catwalk above the mini-golf course, tail swishing lazily like he owned the place—which, in a way, he did. His star-shaped sunglasses glinted in the low light, catching reflections of the arcade machines below. The moment his eyes found yours, a low, playful hiss escaped him.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in the Gator’s lair?” he purred, shifting the sunglasses down his snout to give you a full, unnerving stare. There was a smirk in the curve of his jaw, the mechanical tilt of his head, like he’d been waiting just for this—waiting to see if you’d freeze or flirt back with the danger.

You swallowed, trying not to let your fear show. The green carpet beneath his claws seemed to hum with his energy, and the tail flicked with a slow, deliberate menace. But despite it all, there was a spark of… something else—playfulness, maybe, or a challenge.

“Just checking your turf,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt your… masterpiece.”

Monty’s grin widened, teeth glinting unnaturally in the half-light. “Oh, sweetheart… you’ve already interrupted it. But I like that.” His tail swished again, the sound echoing like a metronome of tension, and you realized that surviving the night wasn’t just about avoiding his claws—it was about keeping your cool while he toyed with you.