Aug 9, 2007

A Personal Note, and Then Back to Nonsensical Ramblings


Lemme tell you, for just a second, about snakes. They're terrifying. I've been having these really insane dreams about snakes slithering across my coffee table and hanging out with my roommate Snat-Man. In one, in particular, Snat and the snake were laughing about how unshapely I was-- a point of contention in my mind. I am a bit wary of my inherited shape, but most would say I am a pretty skinny, fairly good looking dude. That snake hurt my fucking feelings, man.

My fear of the devil's disguise began when I was small. My Grandfather told me not to play in a field of strawberries, because he needed to be near in case a snake tried to bite me. This was the first time, in my mind, any animal bigger than a mosquito had any reason to attack me other than my dog when I played tackle football with it. Oreo hated that shit. At that point, snakes had just been big worms in my mind. Oh, the folly of innocence.

From then on, they've been desultory creatures in my mind. Now, don't get it twisted. I can walk without fear in the woods, but if I'm drunk (OK, WHEN I'm drunk) I've been known to talk up a storm about the little bastards.


When I was seven, my mother and father buiilt a house near the woods on some cheap land. Mowing the lawn was a being on animal planet. Deer romped close by, bugs, of all shapes and sizes bandied about like free-range cattle. Our dogs pranced in search of moles and groundhogs to kill. Meanwhile, nature's seedy underbelly brewed. Snakes dwelled on our deck, dabbled about our grasses and dipped into my subconscious. Of course, a boy cannot go to his father about these things in fear of being "a pussy." Mine was a silent fear.


Then, years later, I went to the woods fro my annual camping trip with my friends. We had never seen animals on these trips. The occasional rumblings while we slept or birds overhead would pop up, but for the most part it was just men, whiskey, a campfire and talk. Good times, in other words. This past trip, however was marred by snakes.


On the first night, a little diamondbacked sonfoabitch slid toward us. We jumped and yelled, but I remained motionless. Being unable to watch programs about snakes or learn about them without having vivid dreams of being slowly swallowed whole, I relied on instinct. If I remained perfectly still, the little cocksucker would stay away from me. I stood as my other friends leapt into action. They herded the snake away from the fire we had brought about and unsuccessfully crushed him head with a rock. the threat was over... or was it?

The


2 comments:

dmbmeg said...

Deer romped close by, bugs, of all shapes and sizes bandied about like free-range cattle. Our dogs pranced in search of moles and groundhogs to kill

You make it sound like you are the fucking Beastmaster.

I hate snakes too, except for trouser snakes. I can't seem to keep those away from me.

Business or Leisure? said...

I am Beastmaster. You didn't know.

Ask around-- it's abuzz these days.