October 1
On Saturday, I was over at Angelo & Eleanor's house, except, of course, that Angelo wasn't there. I pulled up at about 10:55, got out and at 10:55:10, my mom pulled up with her friend, uh, I'll call her Suzy, in tow. The plan, I learned, was that mom and Suzy were going to go visit Angelo (Suzy is an old, old friend of my mother's, so she'd be both a familiar and entirely new face for him) and I was going to take Eleanor to the supermarket. That was it. My Saturday. Take grandmother to market across the street.
The four of us spent an hour or so bullshitting, and at one point my mom got up to go make a pot of coffee. We all move into the kitchen. We stand by the open door, and I give her a hug. As I am hugging her, I am looking out the open back door at a weird, shaped bush they have in their yard (such that it is, since it's an attached condo). I am looking out at this weird, shaped bush because I am apparently having one of those moments where your eyes do that funny thing where they play tricks on you, because I am seeing a stick, but it is looking to me like a snake. Atop the funny bush, sunning itself. I stare for a few seconds longer, and realize that it is no funny stick, no no! It is really a thing you would categorize as a snake.
I say aloud: "Um. There is a snake on your bush" (which is really a very fun thing to say aloud). My mother springs away from me (we'd been hugging the whole while. In reality, this has all taken place in less than 35 seconds), my grandmother expresses disbelief ("Stop it, there is NOT!") and we all crowd around the back door, staring at the snake on the bush (heh). Suzy, who raised two (3?) boys is well versed in Snake (parent of young boys [or reptile loving girls] may want to pay attention to this story, it may come in handy): "My son's snake used to get out all the time. I'd have to get out the gloves and stick it back in the tank. One day, I decided I was sick of chasing the damn thing, so I got out the gloves and a paper bag. I told my kid that the reason the snake kept getting out was because he was lonely and was looking for his family, and the only way he would ever be happy again was if we let him go! I grabbed the snake, stuck it in a bag, we drove to the golf course and released it. That was our last snake."
My grandmother is convinced that the bush is FILLED with snakes. Not just one (relatively small) snake, but a HUNDRED snakes, all writhing around, doing whatever it is that snakes do. She vows never to sit on her back porch, ever again lest the snake family decide to go out for a slither. The job, for whatever reason, falls on me to catch this snake.
I like animals. That is an unarguable fact. I have 5 animals at home, which is perhaps more than I ought to have, but have nonetheless. I have never had a snake. I would not go as far as saying that I am afraid of snakes, but I am definitely not really what you'd call a snake person, and that's okay. I don't know what it is about them, maybe that they're so, uh, coily. I am not really wanting to catch the snake, or handle it in any way. It's not a giant snake. Maybe two feet long, very skinny, I suspect it's a garter snake, but I'd be talking out my ass, because really, I have no idea. It could be any kind of snake in the entire world, other than, say, a rattlesnake or a king cobra--those I might recognize. This tiny little snake is a menace, and I am supposed to catch it and stick it in the bag. Except that it's scootched back into the bush, assumedly because we've been making so much noise what with our big feet all stamping around on the porch with our big stampy feet and our loud voices that we scared the shit out of it, and it retreated in utter fear.
Once it's in the bag, I don't have the slightest idea what I'm supposed to do with it, but since it's gone, it's no longer a problem, other than the whole Eleanor "I'm never going out on the porch again" thing. The snake is left alone, and I am off the hook. Ahh.
Heh, I realize that I set this up like there was going to be some hilarious hijinx about me trying to catch the snake, and running around like a moron, screaming, which is not the case. You can stick that ending on if you want. Here, I'll help you out:
This tiny little snake is a menace, and I am supposed to catch it and stick it in the bag. My grandmother finds me a pair of Angelo's work gloves and I set out, very resolutely, to get the fucking thing and stick it in the bag. I see it's little head sticking out of the side of the bush, and I grab blindly. The snake, firmly in my grasp, freaks out, and it's tail touches my arm. I stagger backwards horrified, crashing into the door and screaming like a little girl. My screams and wild flailing anger a swarm of bees. I run into the house, with the snake still pinched between my fingers, trip over a banana, hit the floor, and throw the snake, which bids a hasty retreat to his lair.
The end.
the other day - home - email - tomorrow