Humor & Everyday Life
Gigantor
Before I ever researched Florida’s iguana problem, I had already lived with it — including one enormous resident in a giant backyard ficus that I called Gigantor.
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We called the house the Titanic Not because it was big Because every time it rained We needed a damn boat And out back Was this enormous ficus Back in Montana That was a houseplant In Florida Three stories tall And living in it Was Gigantor Back in Montana A ficus lived inside Six feet in a pot And I thought that thing had size Then I moved down to Florida Looked three stories in the air What the hell Same kind of tree I'd kept inside Now there's a dinosaur up there I'd seen iguanas Sure Little ones around Maybe one or two feet Scurrying on the ground But this one was different This required a name I remember roughly eight feet And I wasn't climbing up there With a measuring tape He'd stretch along a branch Like a dragon in the sun Big green bastard Wasn't scared of anyone Long tail hanging Looking down at me Like he'd bought the whole damn neighborhood And we came with the property Gigantor King of the ficus tree Gigantor Big green landlord Living rent-free Didn't knock Didn't ask Didn't pay a single fee He just moved into the neighborhood Gigantor in the tree And after a while Here's the really crazy part We got used to him That's Florida for you You walk outside Look three stories high See a giant green dinosaur Stretched across the sky And instead of screaming Instead of running for the door You look up and say Morning, Gigantor Which should tell you something About living in Florida Gigantor in the tree Big Still Watching Nothing unusual here Tink Tink-tink What's that Thump-thump Thump-thump-thump Oh no Thump-thump-thump-thump Babies On the roof Babies On the rain guards Babies Everywhere you look Open up the door and hear Thump-thump-thump-thump Hundreds of little dinosaurs Running everywhere Thump-thump Left Thump-thump Right Little green streaks Shooting out of sight Thump-thump-thump-thump Across the roof Thump-thump-thump-thump There they go Hundreds of tiny feet Where'd they go Everywhere That's not helpful You step outside Thump-thump-thump-thump Everybody scatters Across the metal rain guards Across the roof they clatter One goes left Ten go right Twenty disappear from sight I'm not counting them There's hundreds Everywhere I know And Gigantor Still in the tree Of course he was And there he sat above it Cool as he could be While hundreds of little dinosaurs Went racing underneath Big one in the ficus Little ones on the roof And somehow this was happening Right outside my living room That's when Florida taught me Something I hadn't understood You can live with dinosaurs And eventually call it A neighborhood Gigantor Thump-thump-thump-thump Gigantor Thump-thump-thump-thump Gigantor Thump-thump-thump-thump Big one up there Gigantor Hundreds down here Thump-thump-thump-thump Welcome to Florida Gigantor King of the ficus tree Gigantor Big green bastard Looking down at me Montana had houseplants Florida apparently Grows 'em three stories tall And throws in dinosaurs for free Gigantor Every time We opened up the door Thump-thump-thump-thump Hundreds of little feet Went racing 'cross the roof Thump-thump-thump-thump There they go Thump-thump-thump-thump There they go Gigantor in the tree Hundreds on the roof And the strangest part We lived there long enough It stopped being strange Thump-thump-thump-thump There they go
Behind the story
Why This Song Exists
“Gigantor” exists because before I ever went looking for ridiculous iguana stories, I had one living in my own backyard. At my old State Road 84 house — nicknamed the Titanic because the place flooded, not because it was glamorous — there was an enormous ficus behind the property. And in that tree lived Gigantor. I remember him as roughly eight feet long. That is my recollection, not a wildlife measurement taken by a brave person with a tape measure. I was perfectly happy estimating from a respectful distance. What I remember most is how completely normal he eventually became. There he would be, stretched out in this enormous South Florida tree like some prehistoric landlord who had been there before us and expected to remain after us. And after enough time, instead of walking outside and thinking: There is a dinosaur in my backyard. you start thinking: Morning, Gigantor. Which probably tells you everything you need to know about adapting to life in Florida. But Gigantor was not the only thing happening around that house. There was another sound every time somebody opened the door. I’m saving that part for the song. Because this is where the album stops being only about things I researched. I lived with these bastards.
Why This Sound
Gigantor needed two musical sizes at once: a huge, swaggering funk-rock presence for the enormous resident iguana and a sudden ska-like burst for hundreds of tiny feet scattering across the roof. The arrangement becomes the joke by making one giant reptile and a swarm of babies sound completely different.
- Collection
- Chicken of the Trees
- Sound
- Funk Rock · Ska
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