I was working in the backyard again yesterday and came across another creature of wildlife. This one, however, was less snuggly fluff (click here if you missed that post) and more ‘I could fit your entire arm into my mouth’. I’m fine with most things you find in the backyard-bugs, poison ivy, the occasional homeless man, but this momma does not do snakes.
But there it was. It slithered (can we take a moment to talk about the fact the ‘slither’ is a MUCH WORSE WORD than ‘moist’) out of a pile of weeds my hands had been in SECONDS EARLIER and into a giant pile of dirt and dead plants. And I mean into. This snake parted the dirt like the Bible story. It was a Moses Snake. And then it wriggled through and the dirt came crashing down around it like with the Egyptians. Which makes the snake both Moses and the Egyptians. I’m not sure who I am in this story. Maybe I’m an innocent camel bystander.
I don’t really scream much (unless I’m in a bar that plays Spice Girls). Usually I emit opera-styled babbles. They sound something like “NONONONONONOJESUSSAAAAAAAAAAAVEMEEEEEEEEE” or nonsense sounds like “WAWAWAWAWANEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”.
Nick was in the house when the enemy was spotted, but came outside as a response to my clearly audible howls. Acting in the spirit of a true lion-hearted knight, he rushed to the scene and…took out his phone. (For proof see photo at right. Those are real tears, people.)
He then started asking ridiculous questions like “How big was it?” and “What did it look like?” to which I responded, “It looked like a snake and it was the size of a snake.” When he pressed me for a different answer I told him the truth. The snake I saw was black with bright red letters on the back that spelled out “DANGER DEATH & DESTRUCTION”. I’m pretty sure he still didn’t believe me but decided not to press the issue.
I told him about Moses Snake and he started to dig through the pile it had disappeared into, which we use to refer to as the ‘compost pile’ but I now call it ‘The Gates to Hell’. I stood behind him with a shovel in hand, in which I would have catapulted at the snake if need be. He insisted I not kill the snake so he could “just pick it up and throw it over the back fence”. I politely informed him that if he through a snake into the air, in ANY direction, he better make sure I am safely inside with all the windows and doors locked beforehand. Or our marriage would take an ugly turn.
He tried to convince me that the snake had probably slithered (I shudder even reading the word) away and was long gone by now. But I’m not a fan of the word ‘probably’ when referring to snakes. I prefer the term ‘It’s definitely absolutely without a doubt completely dead and will certainly never ever resurrect itself to a zombie snake and wait under your car.’ I insisted that he keep digging.
He did (eventually) find the snake and immediately lose it again. Wasn’t there a part of our vows in which he promised to always protect me from scaly animals that can only move on their bellies? I considered locking him outside until his hunt was successful, but he didn’t think this was a fair consequence for failing his mission.
In conclusion, our backyard is condemned. An army of serpents are probably forming right now waiting for one of us naively sit in a lawn chair with a beer. You’ll have to be smarter than that, Moses Snake. Take your army and continue to the Promised Land. Which I’m pretty sure is at least a few houses down. But certainly not here.