Bullets don’t make holes but cannons do and his leg drags behind him limp and useless until the toe grows back. Retracts. Leg first, toe next. The scales turn gray and green. He is one thousand years old but has only lived ten. A giant turned small and big again and he is blind. Firepower, gunpowder and a bullet hits his stomach, leaving red ribbons to rust on the ground. He is belly up in a boat on the Nile, now in Florida, now in no continent at all. A leg shrivels, dies. He is small and helpless crying for his mother. Now he’s a god, revered and exalted. But he disappears into nothing, having never existed at all.
Based on the prompt, “There’s a crocodile walking along the line where space and time meet.”