I got that beat.
Many years ago there was an Alligator name Alvin, he lived peacefully in a swamp in Texas. Alvin obeyed the laws of the wild. He knew he had to hunt to live, and he knew that his prey had to escape him to live. This bred a mutual respect between Alvin and his would be adversaries. The laws of the wild were just one of many virtues Alvin's parents had instilled in him.
Alvin's father was a massive alligator, respected all through the swamp. His legacy extended for millions of years through time, and even though it could not be directly traced for more than three generations, the sheer size and will of the reptile were more than enough proof that Alvin's lineage was of a noble path.
Alvin's monthly feedings generally consisted of one or more large forest-dwelling mammals. They would come down to the waters edge to quench their thirsts of the dry, scorching Texas sun. Here is where our protagonist would meet his worthy opponents. Alvin being of a noble bloodline, and having a sense of honor and dignity, never preyed on the young, or sick. No ... his father wanted him strong, commanding, able to take down the most vigorous rival that should come to call, with five thousand pounds per inch of bone-splintering force. This kept the gator sharp, and ensured the meat he ingested was healthy, better to promote his proud, family genealogy.
Then some dickhead shot him in the face.
THE END