Alligator attack: A Tall Tale

A character study...first person:

You see those scars, all up and down my arm? They're from an alligator.
I was playing golf, central Florida, 1996. I shanked a fairway shot into the rough. Unfortunately, on Florida courses "rough" can also mean "swamp."
So, I'm lining up my swamp shot, beacuse I don't want to have to drop my ball and lose a stroke. Just then, This gator comes out of nowhere, lunges at me and latches onto my arm.
I'm screaming, this gator's sinking his teeth in further. He wants to take me under and probably eat me. My golf buddies had to hit him with their clubs for a couple minutes before the damn thing let go.
As I dive out of the swamp, the course's game warden drives up in a cart. Sees me bleeding, I tell him I just got bit by an alligator. So, he pulls out a 12-gauge, goes down by the swamp and puts two right in the back of this gator's head.
I get rushed to the hospital, where I spend the next two weeks. I needed two surgeries to reattach all the shit in my arm the gator sliced off.
As they are loading me into the ambulance, I ask one last thing of the game warden: save the carcass.
I had the carcass sent to a leather maker, who fashioned the skin into a pair of really nice bags. I take this one to work.
YEAH! You're a BAG now, aren't you, bitch? Tried to eat my ass, and now you're carrying my newspaper to work!
Every time life gets me down, I pull out those bags, and remember that even though I might be getting chewed on, I can still turn the pissants in my life into carry-on luggage.