The Turtles and the Lizard

Chapter One

Randall Boggs had been down in the bayou in Louisiana for over a year and he had traveled all over the bayou and even close to New Orleans. He hated being here in the human world, just trying to survive. The thought of killing himself had crossed his mind many times.

He had learned from a young age to be a loner. But, now that he was totally alone and no one around to talk to, he did crave some others to talk to. He often talked to himself out loud, though he called himself crazy for doing it.

He had moved far away from the trailer house that he had first landed in when his rivals, Mike and Sullivan had thrown him through an activated door. He still had scars on his body to remind him. He was lucky he had escaped at all. That woman had wanted to KILL him!

From what Randall had studied of these emotional retards in college, they didn't understand a lot outside their own little world and of course, were easily scared by anything they didn't understand and would take any opportunity to dig a knife in where it hurt. It was ironic that his world depended on their fears as a power source. Now he was the one running scared. The best thing he could do was avoid contact with them all together.

Randall was a survivor and he was nothing if not adaptable! He needed a plan and fast.

Randall spent most of his time now raiding their trashcans for food. Lucky for him with his ability of camouflage and climbing trees and walls came in handy. And it wasn't that difficult sneaking into their fridges either, sometimes raiding chicken coops. He had to eat to live after all.

Randall had been chased off of properties when he had been seen, but he always got away.

He had a found a backpack in the trash that stored everything useful he had found. He made sure to keep things small and only things he needed, including the six water bottles he had found intact.

When he had been seen and chased out of the human's habitats, they always seemed to refer to him as a earth type of lizard or alligator... whatever they were. Lucky though that he passed for one of these common reptilian creatures. It was a good cover story when he was chased away, but he would have always have to keep going back.

Besides scavenging for food, Randall would spend his time checking every closet he came across in the hope of getting back home. So far he had had no luck. If he didn't know any better, he would say all the closet doors in this part of the country had been destroyed. That's what he would do if he was trying to keep someone from getting home. But he had to find a way, so he could take revenge against those who put him here.

"That Wazowski and Sullivan!" He spat their names like poison. They were nothing! He was the brains! He was the smart one. He had discovered that the humans weren't toxic! He had designed and built the machine. He was going to save the company from the scream energy crisis and be the hero for all his race! .... and they had just taken it all away from him! His glory! His fame and his ideas all for themselves, leaving him here to rot, trapped in the nest with a scared and violent, selfish race of creatures that were hell bent on destroying anything not like them... or sometimes each other, for whatever reason! Heck, they even seemed to be out to destroy their own world.

Here, his race was struggling to survive while these humans just consumed and wasted all the resources they had!

It wasn't fair!

Why did Sullivan stop him from taking that human child? What resources he would have taken from the humans would have only been a fraction of what they took from everything else!

...

It was now April and spring was blooming anew. It might have been a warm winter down here in the south more than it would have been up in the northern states. Small blessings. Being cold blooded, Randall wouldn't have handled the cold weather well... but how was he supposed to survive long term? There wasn't much left for him here except a growing reputation that seemed to be attracting hunters. The possibility of him ending up in someone's trophy case was rapidly growing. Sooner or later he would have to move on.