Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Snake In My Pants

About 0600 this morning the sound of the shower made me sit my coffee aside and walk back to our bedroom. As I walked inside to say good morning to Sweet Wife I glanced over towards our bed. Its big, high; a child has little problem crawling beneath.

I noticed something odd on the floor next to the bed. I did a double take. A snake. A live snake with its head raised with its tiny red tongue at full flicker.

Sweet Wife opened the bathroom door. I said, "Hey, check it out." Then pointed towards our unusual visitor.

Scream....then, more screams. Then, she levitated, and screamed. In one step and bounce she was on top of the bed. Best flat-footed jump I've seen since high school.

Snakes will do that to a person....

She asked from where the little booger came and how in the heck did it get inside our home. I reminded her we do live on a river and have a fairly large game preserve next door. She didn't buy it. So then I said it probably came from my pants. I tried to explain I'd mowed our yard earlier and it had probably hitch-hiked a ride inside my BDU's, and when I came inside it had dropped out and taken residence under the bed.

She threw a pillow at me.

I laid the poor dead critter on our vanity and snapped a couple of shots as it twisted and turned. I'd smacked it with my handy bamboo back scratcher. Sweet Wife said the back scratcher must now be thrown into the trash....then screamed as she watched the snake twist and turn. I explained this was normal behavior for a recently deceased reptile. Didn't change her course of action.

She said, "Flush it."

I did as requested.


At Three In The Morning

Not even Anthony Bourdain holds my interest. If not for the noise I'd sneak into the garage and return to my current restoration project, but it wouldn't be fair to my wife as she sleeps the sleep of the innocent.

Perhaps I should take coffee cup in hand and stroll the neighborhood, amble down to the river and listen to the wind. Then again, I should take care of the first of the month bills; sit and write checks, balance the accounts. After all, it's either tackle the task here or later at my office.

A few minutes ago I even contemplated my old Marlin and a magazine filled with .22 CB caps. I thought why not sneak out and place a target on the back fence then ease a chair out to the edge of the deck. I have night vision equipment and shots towards the river are safe silent gunnie therapy.

My eyes burn. Think I'll just take that walk.

By the way, Anthony Bourdain is a wuss.