I'm all for respecting all God's creatures and I'm totally, totally in favor of those reptile guys who come to elementary schools and let little kids pet otherwise horror-inducing creatures in a safe and even fun environment, but if snakes aren't the pure, unholy incarnation of evil, I don't know what is. I was getting the mail the other day when I noticed the some tall grass just a few feet away moving in a suspicious manner and I didn't even have a chance to move a safe distance from whatever it was before I saw what it was and it was a snake, godamnit. A SNAKE. A long, black snake, and it didn't have any weird markings or enormous fangs or anything but I was fairly certain it could take my life if it wanted to so I retreated fast, my survival skills in high gear.
I was ok with it - we live in North Carolina, not Manhattan - and I know there are things like snakes around, I'd just appreciate it if they'd keep out of my way, just like I keep out of their way, and I don't, you know, venture into their dens, or whatever the hell it is snakes live in, where they concoct their potions, and I don't know, worship Satan from time to time - anyway, the point is, I think they should try and keep out of my yard.
When telling J about the incident this morning, he asked me to describe the snake, how big it was, and all that specific nonsense he's interested in, overlooking the obvious point that IT WAS A SNAKE IN OUR YARD WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED TO KNOW? I spread my fingers wide to try and illustrate it's thickness to him, at which point he told me that it was impossible a snake that wide, like a boa constrictor or python, was living in our yard. I also told him it was several feet long, and he looked at me, again, like I was crazy, a crazy, snake-fearing woman who makes up stories and cowers indoors, afraid of nature, harmless, everyday, nature.
But that's just the thing. Since my close encounter I haven't been cowering indoors, I've been bravely venturing to all parts of our front and back yards, sure that I'd never see my little buddy again, so you can imagine my surprise when I was out back a few hours ago, heard a rustling behind me, turned around and saw, once again, a long black snake, just inches from my flip-flop clad feet. Inches. I don't know if it was the same snake, but once I'd reached the safe ("safe" being a relative term - we're being invaded) confines of my carport I took a good, hard look at it, slithering through the grass, it's body a writhing S shape (Jesus Christ, how do they live with themselves?) and determined that if it wasn't the same snake, it was a very close relative. Just as long as I'd told my disbelieving husband. Long enough to strangle me. Long enough to inflict fear in the hearts of courageous men.
As I continued with the things I was doing outside, I spoke out loud to the it - even though I couldn't see it anymore, I was pretty sure it was there - telling it I knew what it was up to, and that it had another think coming if it thought it could just live with us in our yard, just like part of the family.
If I see it again, I might have to take some drastic measures. Like moving. The crazy thing is I've never really been afraid of snakes, just like I've never really had a problem with mice, or cockroaches - it's just the prospect of never knowing who you're going to run into when you head out back to throw a ball for the dogs. And yeah, I know it's probably not poisonous and can't kill me or anything, but I'm talking quality of life here. And a quality life that's worth living doesn't normally include tiptoeing around your property holding your breath, looking frantically for your enemy, ready to flee at any moment. So all I'm saying is that one of us has got to go, and since I've put up art and pay for cable and all, well, I think we all know which one of us it should be.