It is a widely known biological fact.
Crocodiles possess an absolutely terrifying bite force, but the muscles they use to open their jaws are incredibly weak.
In theory, if you can tie a crocodile’s mouth shut, its only remaining attack method is to roll on top of you and try to crush you to death.
Titan was well aware of this fact.
However, he felt like he could easily snap his restraints.
With just a slight, experimental flex of his jaw muscles, the thin nylon rope binding his snout began to stretch and deform.
Perhaps Old Larry had simply tied a weak knot, or maybe the rope itself was just too flimsy.
Fortunately, Old Larry was a much gentler chauffeur than Old Frank.
At least he didn’t squeeze the baby crocodile like a stress ball.
The man and the reptile crossed the central courtyard, arriving at the small, detached concrete building the burglars had tried to break into the night before.
Along the way, Titan caught a glimpse of Cat Number Two.
The blind Golden Tiger cub was curled up fast asleep inside a woven, orange-colored cat basket in his enclosure, blending in perfectly like a furry chameleon.
Click.
Old Larry balanced Titan in one arm and used his free hand to unlock the heavy, reinforced wooden door.
As they entered, Titan noticed a faded metal plaque mounted above the doorframe.
It caught the morning light, revealing the boldly engraved word: Honor.
Ah, now he recognized the building.
This was the same veterinary clinic where Old Larry had almost forced him to drink baby formula on his first day.
Old Larry gently set Titan down on a stainless steel examination table draped with a clean white sheet.
The table felt much smaller than Titan remembered.
Yesterday it had seemed massive, but today, his growing body fit it perfectly.
Old Larry put on latex gloves and a surgical mask with a deep sense of medical ceremony.
He reached over and switched on an old-fashioned transistor radio before beginning the physical exam.
“In local news, two young men were involved in a fatal accident while riding a pedal tricycle on a rural suburban road late last night.
Both were pronounced dead at the scene despite emergency intervention.
Police are reminding citizens that night riding carries significant risks.
Always prioritize safety and do not take unnecessary risks in the dark.”
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Titan listened quietly to the radio broadcast.
With Old Larry’s gentle prodding, the baby crocodile obediently rolled over onto his back, exposing his scaly belly.
Old Larry had originally intended to chat casually during the exam, but his experienced hands suddenly froze.
What on earth did you eat?
Just to be absolutely sure, he firmly palpated Titan’s stomach a few more times.
He unmistakably felt a massive, rigid foreign object lodged deep inside the reptile’s gut.
“I am going to have to give you an emetic,” Old Larry muttered, his voice muffled by the surgical mask.
He grabbed a small vial of medicine from a glass cabinet, used a syringe to extract the clear liquid, and injected it directly into a fresh chunk of chicken breast.
I do not want to eat that!
Titan wanted to resist, but he didn’t really have a choice.
He watched helplessly as Old Larry pulled the burlap rag back over his eyes, untied the loosened snout rope, and wedged the medicated meat right between his teeth.
Ugh, fine.
Titan thought about it logically.
What if his stomach actually couldn’t digest solid steel?
It was probably safer to just puke it up now before it caused a deadly blockage.
“In environmental news, the International Union for Conservation of Nature officially listed the vaquita porpoise as critically endangered this morning.”
Old Larry’s dosage calculation was flawless.
In less than half an hour, Titan felt a violent churn in his gut.
He threw his jaws open wide.
Seeing the warning signs, Old Larry quickly grabbed his red plastic bucket and held it directly under Titan’s snout.
Clang!
A heavy, metallic thud echoed sharply from the bottom of the plastic bucket. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Titan felt instant relief.
His stomach felt completely empty, and the agonizing heartburn vanished almost immediately.
“Why in God’s name did you eat a solid iron bar?!”
Old Larry grabbed the bucket and peered inside.
The professional composure behind his surgical mask completely crumbled.
He was so utterly flabbergasted that he didn’t even notice the medicated chicken chunk had been fully digested in mere minutes.
Wait.
An iron bar?
Titan noticed something terrifyingly significant.
As Old Larry dumped the contents of the bucket into a yellow biohazard bag, the baby crocodile got a clear look at his vomit.
The thick steel crowbar had been dissolved to less than half its original thickness.
The curved prying hook had been completely melted away by his stomach acid.
No wonder I had such terrible acid reflux.
Based on Old Larry’s standard veterinary knowledge, ordinary crocodiles absolutely could not digest solid steel.
This further solidified his wildly inaccurate theory.
He was now absolutely convinced Titan had broken out specifically to eat literal garbage out of the trash cans.
Ring, ring, ring!
The shrill cry of the clinic’s landline shattered the silence, interrupting Old Larry as he disposed of the melted metal.
Not many people knew this clinic number.
Most people called his home phone.
Who could be calling?
He peeled off his latex gloves, quickly washed his calloused hands at the sink, and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Dad?” A young male voice echoed through the earpiece.
“Jason?
What brings you to call the clinic?
Do you need something?” Old Larry’s voice noticeably brightened.
While Old Larry was distracted, Titan casually shook the burlap rag off his head.
He wanted to take a proper look around this room.
Unlike the dilapidated exterior of the zoo, the interior of the clinic was remarkably clean.
White tiled floors paired with pristine white wallpaper.
It had the sterile, professional atmosphere of a surgical operating room, but lacked the harsh chemical smell of bleach.
It just felt clean and comforting.
The glass-fronted cabinets lining the walls were fully stocked with a massive array of expensive veterinary medicine.
Next to Titan’s examination table sat a rolling tray covered in stainless steel surgical instruments.
They looked meticulously maintained, despite clearly not having been used in a very long time.
On the far wall hung a series of framed military medals and black-and-white group photos.
The people in the photos were too small and faded for Titan to make out the details, but one solo portrait stood out clearly.
It showed a much younger Old Larry.
He was wearing a dark military officer’s cap, but his uniform was a crisp white medical coat.
He had been a military doctor.
“Dad, I have some news to tell you,” the voice on the phone continued.
“What is it?”
The person on the other end paused, asking about Old Larry’s health and inquiring about his daily living expenses.
It was classic small talk, actively delaying the inevitable.
Something was very wrong.
“What did you just say?” Old Larry gasped.
Titan’s acute crocodilian senses suddenly detected a massive spike in Old Larry’s heart rate.
The rhythm was wildly erratic.
Realizing something was terribly wrong, the baby crocodile pushed himself up on the exam table.
Thud!
In the blink of an eye, Old Larry’s legs simply gave out.
He collapsed heavily onto the tiled floor.
“Dad!”
The telephone receiver bounced across the tiles.
Frantic, urgent shouting spilled from the earpiece.
“I am fine.
I am not.” Old Larry gasped, desperately trying to project strength.
He breathed aggressively through his nose and mouth, struggling to regulate his plummeting blood pressure, but the crushing weight on his chest was overwhelming.
He reached out, trying to pull himself up using the edge of the sink, but his legs were paralyzed.
His arms had lost all strength.
In his uncoordinated struggle, he knocked a bottle of hand sanitizer off the counter.
“Cough.”
Old Larry dry-heaved, clutching his chest tightly with his left hand.
No sound came out.
The sheer, suffocating terror of impending death snapped his mind into sharp focus.
He knew exactly what was happening.
He frantically shoved his trembling right hand into his pocket and yanked out a small plastic pill bottle.
His fingers were spasming too violently to grip the child-proof cap.
Losing the last of his motor control, the bottle slipped from his sweaty palm.
It hit the floor and rolled away.
Clink.
The small white bottle bumped gently against a dark green claw.
Titan had practically rolled off the examination table the second Old Larry collapsed.
He righted himself on the floor, gently picked up the pill bottle in his jaws, and waddled swiftly toward the old man.
Old Larry was curled tightly into a fetal position.
Titan quickly crept right next to the dying man.
He thoughtfully tilted his head, calculating the exact amount of bite force required.
With a precise snap, he sheared the child-proof cap cleanly in half, taking immense care not to crush the plastic and spill the life-saving pills inside.
Old Larry’s vision had almost completely blacked out.
The world was a blurry smear.
Driven by pure survival instinct, he used the absolute last ounce of his fading strength to grab the open bottle from the crocodile’s jaws.
He dumped the entire handful of pills directly into his mouth and swallowed dry.
“Dad?!
I just called an ambulance for you!
If you are still awake, say something!
Answer me!”
The telephone was still screaming from the floor.
Old Larry’s body gave a few violent twitches, but Titan could already hear the old man’s erratic heartbeat beginning to slowly stabilize.
Titan pondered the situation for a brief moment.
He waddled over to the dropped telephone receiver and lowered his snout to the microphone.
“Rumble.”
The person on the other end of the line was met with absolute, terrifying crocodilian silence.