He Would Have Done It Differently - Randy Wong

Clara Gordon thought she had seen it all. Working airport security at LAX, she had seen her share of weirdness. Indeed, when it comes to creative methods of smuggling illegal goods, people will go to extreme lengths to get what they want. People have tried hiding fruit in their socks, drugs in their shoes, and smaller objects that can fit … well, that can fit in one or two small places on the body.

Clara watched the next person in line for the security check with a heightened awareness. After doing this job for many years, she developed a sixth sense about certain people. The young man approaching the check point triggered something. His face appeared relaxed but his eyes were darting back and forth every so often. He also couldn’t look Clara in the eye – his eyes were locked onto a spot on the floor in front of him.

She looked over to the soldiers on duty. They would arrive the second she raised the alarm. Her assistants were going through the man’s luggage. Clara saw the man’s body suddenly convulse, and he let out a muffled grunt. It seemed to her that he was doing his best not to yell, but it was also obvious that he was in some sort of pain based on the wide eyed expression on his face.

“May I see your identification, sir?”

The young man seemed startled that Clara was addressing him directly. He motionless for a moment then proceeded to retrieve his ID from his wallet. The identification belonged to a Mr. Ken Ibsen of Los Angeles, California. No prior record and no red flags. Clara re-read the fact sheet and while she did not doubt the information she was reading, there was something about Mr. Ibsen that rubbed her the wrong way. Just as she finishing that last thought, Mr. Ibsen convulsed again, but this time he could not muffle his yelp.

“Oh!”

Clara had enough of this. “Security!”

Several soldiers ran to her station and took positions around Ibsen. If Ibsen looked pained and scared before, he looked at least ten times terrified right now.

Captain Norris ordered Ibsen to put his hands behind his head. Still scared out of his wits, Norris had to order him again before he complied. When he raised his arms, Clara noticed something odd about his shirt. The cotton tee had suddenly developed a wet spot near the area of the chest. It was crimson. It only took a moment for Clara to realize that it was blood.

“Sir? Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Ibsen took a moment to gather his wits. He shook his head.

Clara pointed a finger at the blood stain spreading on his chest. “Sir, you appear to be bleeding.”

Ibsen glanced down with a shocked look on his face. “No. It’s from earlier. I cut myself shaving.”

Clara shook her head. “Sir, it appears that you are bleeding profusely from your chest.”

Ibsen raised his eye brows. “I was shaving my chest. I’m quite hairy,” he stammered.

It was Clara’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “What? That’s ridiculous.”

Ibsen decided to run with it. “No. No, really. Um, I’m worse than Robin Williams.”

Clara was about to ask Captain Norris to escort Mr. Ibsen into the secured area when she noticed something else about his shirt. Either Mr. Ibsen was hyperventilating, or the cotton tee-shirt had a life of its own. She could have sworn it actually moved. In fact, it appeared to Clara the shirt was rising and falling at different rates at different areas of the shirt.

“Mr. Ibsen, please remove your shirt.”

The blood spot on Ibsen’s shirt was now soaking through to his skin. What surprised Clara the most was that the wet spot had taken on a strange shape as though the shirt was now clinging to something. It looked like a head of some animal! Clara was even more surprised when the head moved.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed.

Captain Norris took a step forward. “Remove your shirt right now!”

Ibsen hesitated but stared at the numerous weapons pointing at him. With a sigh, he removed his cotton tee-shirt, slowly and carefully pulling it over his head.

Everyone with a view gasped at what they were now looking at: several lizards attached to some type of harness. From what Clara was able to tell, there were several species of lizards attached to Ibsen’s body. Unfortunately, the harness was made of a thin and sheer material to better stay hidden underneath his shirt, and the lizards had started to claw through the harness and cut into his skin.

Exposed and caught, Ibsen’s mood changed. He visibly straightened, and he smiled a crooked smile. “Well, I guess you caught me.”

Clara noticed Ibsen’s change of attitude, and that angered her. Who the hell does he think he is, she wondered.

“Sir, do you have a permit to bring these lizards into the US?”

Ibsen laughed. “A permit? You mean that silly piece of paper that allows me to rescue these rare beautiful creatures from that awful sanctuary in Australia? Yes, I have a permit. I’m just carrying them on my body so I won’t get charged for extra carry on.”

Clara tried to stare him down. Instead, Ibsen became more defiant. “Apparently, they allow cows into this country just fine.”

That last comment did it. Clara snapped. She stepped forward and stared at the lizard that was digging into Ibsen’s chest. With a quick but powerful move, he grabbed the lizard with both hands and pulled it off Ibsen’s body. Ibsen screamed and fell to the floor in anguish. A couple of soldiers knelt down to come to his aid. A large chunk of Ibsen’s flesh was exposed on his chest where the lizard had been attached. Clara threw the lizard back at him.

“Oops. You dropped one.”