When last we met, I was nearly incoherent with fear over the snake that had wriggled its way under my dresser.
To pick up where I left off....
I called my husband to inform him of our reptilian interloper.
Below is a recap of the conversation:
Brringg, Brringgg (that's the telephone)
Voice on the other end: Good Morning, Garden Center, Tom speaking
Jen (in a state of near hysteria): THEREISASNAKEINTHEHOUSE!!!
Tom: What are you talking about?
Jen: There is a snake in the bedroom and it crawled under the dresser.
Tom: One of the cats probably brought it in.
Jen: It’s not very big, maybe 6” but still…….
Jen: How did it get upstairs?
Jen: Maybe there is a nest of them? Hiding under the bed. Or up in the boxsprings.
Jen: I can’t live in this house anymore. We’re going to have to move
Tom (very calm and rational): We'll talk about it when we get home.
Jen: Ok, bye
Please note that at no time did my husband offer to leave work and drive the nearly 20 miles back to our house in order to capture the snake and allay his beloved's fears. He knows I'm a tough-girl
After that irrational phone call, I went downstairs to take my shower, keeping my eyes peeled for any other snakes.
While in the shower, I decided that I would put my fears to the side and capture this snake if it was the last thing I would do. So on my way back upstairs, I detoured into the kitchen where I picked up a pair of tongs (you’ll see what they are for in just a minute) .
After getting dressed and watching for the snake the entire time, I girded my loins and moved the dresser, wholly anticipating a herd of snakes to come wriggling out.
Nothing, I did however, find three rubber hair bands, a button, the brush attachment to my hairdryer and my tweezers that went missing months ago.
Then I picked up an empty walmart bag (with the tongs) and do I really need to go into why I would keep an empty wal-mart bag behind my dresser? As I picked up the bag, out flew the beastly creature.
He was making a mad dash for the safe refuge underneath the dresser. But Jen, the Giant Fearless Snake Killer, managed to stomp on him. All the while, yelling at the long of her lungs.. “DIE, DIE, DIE”
Imagine my dismay when I discovered that stomping on a snake in sneakers on plush carpeting will not kill a snake, as a matter of fact it will barely even stun them.
He was escaping.
So I stomped on him again. This time a little bit of his pointy snake head was squirming out from underneath my shoe. I bent down (this is where the tongs come into play), plucked him up and deposited him into the purple, plastic waste can standing by for just this purpose.
Then I stood and watched as he frantically tried to escape. But the waste can was too smooth and all he could do was wriggle fruitlessly in the bottom of the can.
Holding the can with outstretched arms, I gingerly made my way downstairs and out to the back deck where I set the beast free to be snakelike with all his other snake buddies.
I kid you.
I let that vile creature sit in the baking sun all day to be fried into a snake-crisp.
And then I ate him..... with fava beans and a nice Chianti.