First, let me tell you: I was not, nor have I ever been attacked by snakes. Second, this is the title of a very catchy song by the Aquabats--who I went to see once with Jackie and this kid that was staying in the dorm for a physics camp, whose name escapes me. Third, Ashley and I both spent a good deal of time last night dreaming about snakes.
At our house in State College, one of the guys had a pet snake named Billie Bob the Ball Python that was about 5 feet long. He hated Ashley. Every time she would sit beside his tank, he would come out and stare at her. I witnessed him strike the glass toward her, stare her down, and unhinge his jaw, open his mouth all the way, and size her up for the eating. Needless to say, she shared the snake's sentiment--she did not like him at all. A few minutes before we walked out of the door for the last time at the house, one of the roommates decided Ashley needed to face her fear and hold the snake. Billie Bob was coiled up, so the roommate picked it up in a big lump and brought it out. Ashley went rigid. She couldn't move. She started backing up slowly. Then the snake turned on the roommate who'd brought him out and hissed a little. The brave roommate dropped the snake on a nearby chair. Knowing the speediness and slyness of snakes, I grabbed him up. We wouldn't want to set the snake free on our final day. I put him back in the case, and we put the lid back on top, adding some extra weight to ensure he didn't come out by himself.
I saved the day!
We're headed to South Carolina today. Not sure yet when.
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