In last night's dream I was filthy rich. But tonight, I was back home, living with my parents.
Mom and Dad and I were at the Redmond house and somehow a talking, baby cobra had convinced us that it would make a good pet. We wearily allowed it stay for the afternoon. By the evening, we were too nervous having it around where we might accidentally step on it, so we put it out on the porch. It tried to do Cah's hypnosis-thing on us so that we would trust it again enough to let it back inside—but we successfully resisted.
The moment we turned our backs, however, the Cobra somehow managed to creep its way back into the house! I noticed that the bottom inch of the screen door was crooked and allowed just enough room for a persistent creature to slither its way through. Surprisingly, the cobra sat patiently through our entire investigation. "Seeeee. I told you, you could trust me," he said. Our trust in the snake increased ever so slightly. We let it stay because we figured he'd make his way back inside anyway.
At dusk, we heard the neighbor's pet chihuahua rustling around on our back porch. Slicker than a fat guy on a lubed up slip and slide, the cobra streaked back onto the porch, ignoring our threats, "if you bite that dog, we'll have to kill you!"
Smiling triumphantly, as if everything he had done up to this point had been an act leading up to this very moment, he quietly wrapped his smooth scales around the chihuahua 1 1/2 times and pierced the poor dog's neck with his gaping fangs. I couldn't help but wonder it the cobra had stalked the dog for many preceding days and had only been using us for our porch.
We had been deceived. The cobra was not to be trusted. We knew what had to be done.
For the next two hours, we attacked and parried the cobra's attacks as it found itself fighting for its life. Around and around the house we went, poking and prodding with a long broom handle. This tactic was ineffective. We needed to get closer and use a sharper weapon—but none of us wanted to get that close.
Finally, I came up with a plan. Recalling some snake-capturing techniques I'd seen on TV, I instructed my dad to drape a blanket over it. It stopped moving. I got close enough to throw a blunt knife towards its head. After about 4-5 attempts at this, my mom and dad and I were all convinced that it was dead. …still, no one would pick up the motionless beast, fearing that it was playing possum.
Eventually, we swept it into a box, like one would trap a spider with a paper and a cup. We walked to a barren spot of earth in our front yard and dumped it, hoping that some wild animal would find the cobra corpse and dispose of it for us.
The following day, the snake was gone.
To this day, we each have our own opinion on whether the sneaky cobra was actually dead, or not.
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Listening to: Good Charlotte - I Don't Wanna Be In Love (Dance Floor Anthem)
Not dead. He was nursing his injuries and will now inflict some other, more trusting family.
ReplyDeleteWow, fascinating! Yeah, I don't think he was dead either.
ReplyDelete