When we last left our intrepid snake seeker (see previous post), Fiddledaddy, he was peering under the hood of the van. Searching for the elusive snake. Which at this point, had only been visible to me.
Finally, he could take no more of my hand wringing and heavy sighing, so he ordered me in the house to google “snakes” to determine what sort of snake had taken up residence in our engine.
A task. Good thinking.
I planted myself before my computer screen and commenced with the googling. There before me were LOTS OF GRAPHIC PICTURES OF SNAKES. ALL MANNER OF SNAKES WERE RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF MY BLOODSHOT EYES.
I felt a little woozy.
I searched on brightly colored orange and brown snakes. Most of the varieties began with the letter “C”. Oh, why do they have to add all those long winded hoopty ploopty names after, just give me A SIMPLE SPECIES.
I took a mental picture and ran to the door. “IT’S A COBRA!” I announced loudly, so I could be heard from the safety of the storm door.
Fiddledaddy appeared quickly from behind the hood. “A COBRA? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? A COBRA? AS IN COMES-OUT-OF-A-BASKET-COBRA WITH A BIG FLARED HEAD???”
“Um. Maybe that wasn’t it. I’ll be back.” And with that I retreated to my computer screen for more searching. Bingo. I ran back to the door.
“IT’S A CORAL SNAKE! MAYBE. I’M NOT SURE. I’LL BE BACK.”
At this point, I didn’t care what kind of snake it was. I just wanted to sell the van. Cheap.
And I have a sister-in-law who would back me up completely.
I’m certain that I’ve told the story about how soon after my brother-in-law got married, he came home from a business trip to find that his key no longer fit in the door. It seems that his bride had discovered a snake in their apartment earlier, and had moved them entirely into a new apartment.
I would have done exactly the same thing. Only with my luck, I would have packed the snake up in my toiletries, and moved it with us.
Then I happened upon a snake picture that seemed vaguely familiar. A corn snake, common to Florida. Not lethal.
Sure pal. Unless you’re flying down the freeway and it should drop on you from the sun visor.
The description went on to say that the corn snake enjoys dining on frogs. DINES ON FROGS??? I HAVE A REASON TO LIVE!
At last I went back to the door. “NOT TO WORRY, I THINK IT’S JUST A CORN SNAKE. COMPLETELY HARMLESS.”
So with that, Fiddledaddy parked the van across the front lawn, directly over the grass, as he was instructed to do by the snake keeper at the local pet store. Note that this act is a clear violation of the by-laws of our homeowner’s association. And the rebellious part of me wanted to quick put some cinder blocks underneath the tires. For added drama.
And then with my peashooter poised at my lips, wait for the “committee” to pay a visit.
Don’t you wish we were your neighbors?
The snake still remains elusive. And I believe that Fiddledaddy is beginning to think that hallucinations may be part of my hormonal flux of late.
I feel certain I will be vindicated during the rainy season. When there is a marked decrease in the amphibian population that seeks to destroy me.
My joy knows no bounds.