This cul-de-sac has heart. It has charm. It has four men named Ashley. This cul-de-sac has a huge crocodile problem. We’re so happy to have you.
This cul-de-sac used to have a Free Little Library, but the crocodiles took the books. They used the books to gain human intelligence and solve James Patterson mysteries. They’ve attained the reading level of an average eighth grader. This cul-de-sac has great schools.
This cul-de-sac reeks of dead fish. It also has its own militia. The militia is all crocodiles. There’s no shortage of recruits when you live in a bog.
This cul-de-sac hosts a neighborhood BBQ every Fourth of July. But the smoked meats attract the crocs, so it’s now a vegan BBQ. But then the crocodiles discovered soy. Now there’s no BBQ. Fingers crossed, they haven’t yet discovered falafel.
This cul-de-sac sets off fireworks all day, every day, all year long. Fireworks are the only thing the crocs fear. The only day we rest is July 4th.
This cul-de-sac backs the boys in blue. They shoot the crocs. Sometimes, the crocs shoot back. We did not arm the crocs; they armed themselves. Muskets from the War of 1812 were left in the bog.
This cul-de-sac has brand new state-of-the-art tennis courts. Unfortunately, they are covered in crocodiles. We suggest indoor bocce.
This cul-de-sac has no Girl Scouts selling Thin Mints. It used to. But the Crocodile Scouts ran them out of business with their Even Thinner Mints. The Crocodile Scouts don’t go door-to-door. They usually come through the bathroom window.
This cul-de-sac used to have dogs. We’ll let you do the math.
This cul-de-sac has neighborly feuds near daily. The crocs have us at odds. A cult-of-crocodile has formed in our cul-de-sac, dividing the neighborhood between Pro-Croc and No-Croc.
This cul-de-sac is the epitome of the American Dream. If the American Dream is filled with crocodiles.
This cul-de-sac doesn’t get Amazon deliveries. All of the addresses are black-listed by all major shipping companies. The crocs once commandeered a USPS van. The mailman lives among the crocs now. He’s their spokesperson. Don’t trust Tom.
This cul-de-sac has one long, lonesome pier leading into the bog’s heart. To walk down the pier is to find a sense of enlightenment among the tumult, for there’s a stillness in the air that clears the fog of one’s innermost thoughts. There’s also lots of crocs. Folks that walk down the pier don’t often walk back.
This cul-de-sac voted for Al Gore.
This cul-de-sac has low taxes. The crocs spook the IRS. We pay taxes to the crocodile overlords in exchange for them not picking us apart like a rotisserie chicken. It’s a pretty good deal.
This cul-de-sac used to have a sign that read DRIVE LIKE YOUR CHILDREN LIVE HERE. We have since replaced it with a sign reading RUN LIKE A CROCODILE IS CHASING YOU.
This cul-de-sac has terrible landscaping. The crocodile piss kills the grass. They tear up the flowerbeds while mating, and claw the bark off the trees to show dominance.
This cul-de-sac has no alligators. Recycling is every Tuesday. If you don’t bring in your trash cans, the crocodiles will file a complaint with the HOA.