Late one afternoon, as I was reaching in to grab an armful of hay, I noticed a large lump in the middle of the hay bale. The hairs on my arm stood on end as I backed away. Satan had come to visit. He had wound himself around and around in a coil and was dead to the world. Oh if only. He was just fast asleep.
Instead of listening to the voices inside my head ordering me to stand still, as we all know we should when we see a snake, I jumped up and down, ran around and around in circles and behaved like a complete lunatic.
Startled, the great slithering beast woke, reared its scaly head and watched me with its sly, beady eyes. Its forked tongue darted menacingly back and forth.
Suddenly, I wasn’t afraid anymore. I was enraged. Enraged that months before our beautiful Miss Molly had died because a snake, just like him, or was this the actual snake, had bitten her?
There was no way this snake was living on our property a minute longer. Somehow, without getting bitten and with the snake going ballistic, I managed to trap him, and relocate him back to hell.
Only joking. I know they’re protected. The sweet, lovable, venomous, deadly, satanic beasties that they are. Hopefully he loves his new digs so much he won’t want to return.
But my story doesn’t end there.
Later that night I received the following text messages from Mr Fit.
“Hey Kooky, I heard you found a snake. Am wondering what type it was?”
“Hi Fits. It was a tiger snake?”
“If it’s still around could you go get it for me?”
“Hahaha yeah sure.”
“Seriously, I need a snake.”
“What the hell for?”
“So the dog trainer can use it to teach Doug the Pug how to stay away from snakes.”
No answer. Was he serious? Surely not.
“A live one would be best but if you find one squashed on the road, that should do the trick. If you could pick it up and put it in the freezer I could come down and get it. Probably in a week or two?”
“Is this a joke?”
“Huh. No. I seriously I need snake.”
“Ah, you’ve been drinking then?”
“Not yet. Half a snake would do.”
“But you live in the city! Snakes don’t live in the city!”
“The trainer said it would be a good idea.”
“Since when has Doug the Pug needed a trainer. He’s five years old!”
“It’s never too late to teach an old dog new tricks.”
Then I knew who the trainer was. It had to be Baz, Freddy Fits father. I’d heard that saying at least a million times. Usually he was talking about himself though, not an actual dog.
“Please tell me the trainer isn’t Baz?” I crossed my fingers hoping I was wrong.
“Okay, okay it’ Baz.”
“And has Baz ever trained a dog before?”
“No, but he’s been on google all day and he assures me, scouts honor, that he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“Has he ever seen a snake before?”
“At the reptile petting zoo. He even had it around his neck. I can send you a picture if you like?”
“No need. One more question though. Does Mrs Fits know about this?”
“God no! She’d kill me.”
“But I need the scent of a snake! That’s all I’m asking. Come on Kooks.”
All he needs is a one way ticket to crazy town. Are they out of their frigging minds? What do you think?
Photo Cred thanks to Snakes On Stuff