For those of you who recall, and for those of you don't, last October or September or sometime when it was warm before it was cold and then warm again, we had a snake infestation... I had almost forgotten the horror of it all, but if you'd like to be reminded see the blog post about Blatant Snake Sex.
It should have occurred to me, what with the weather above freezing, that sooner or later the sex of the snakes would be visited upon me. Today was that day. It started like any other day...I had just finished weeping profusely and begging God to save me from another day in the hell known as Corporate America and was leaving the house to start the day after stopping my Satan's office to sign off on that whole soul deal and as I stepped on the bottom step what can only be described as a GALAXY of little, wiggly, slithery snakes came shooting out from under the step.
I did what any redblooded American God-fearing girl would do: screamed out a string of obscenities that would make a sailor suck his thumb and cower in the corner and then looked around to make no one I knew had heard me. Than I ran to my car and began to suck my thumb and cower.
I looked back up at the porch step and all the little ones were gone, however I noticed one really big one lying very still near the side of the porch. I did what any redblooed American God-fearing girl would do: I threw a rock at it while speed dialing 911. Two things I learned: snake infestations are only considered emergencies if said snakes are drug dealer and just because a snake doesn't move when you throw a rock at it doesn't mean it's dead.
How do I know it wasn't dead? Well after I was brutally rebuffed by 911 and as I stood dialing the animal control number a REALLY BIG SNAKE followed by several little ones crawled up to the snake. The RBS (really big snake, for the remainder of this post) wrapped itself about the seemingly dead snake and started...well...started...saying hello to his little friend.
Two things I learned: the expression of love between two creatures is NOT always a beautiful thing and it's just as pervy to watch snakes have sex as it is to watch humans...not that I have ever done that but sometimes you go to a movie on a first date and it just happens...ON THE SCREEN, PEOPLE, ON THE SCREEN!!!!!
So Animal Control is on the way, RBS is lighting up a cigarette and the little snakes come crawling out from under the two big ones...which if you ask me is just really bad parenting. Upon arrival they are unable to grab the snakes, but they do leave me with some words of wisdom: get a cat, an outdoor cat.
It is at this point that I weigh my options...I could continue to live in the same house with Dirk Wiggler, herptological porn star, or I could find a cat that I could keep on a leash in the front yard of my house. Go on, pick the lesser of two evils with that one...It's either continue as the neighborhood Snake Pimp or become the neighborhood crazy lady who keeps an attack cat leashed to her front porch.
I did what any redblooded American God-fearing girl would do...I called the exterminator who promptly told me I had to call a different exterminator because "they don't do snakes." It took every ounce of strength I had not to make a VERY inappropriate joke. Come to find out, getting rid of snakes is an expensive thing. Over $200 and that's without a guarantee they'll come back.
I called my personal experts who had all sorts of advice, most of which involved fire arms, garden tools and one guy who said to lay rope down around the entire yard.
I did what any redblooded American God-fearing girl would do...I put it on my husband's to-do list for tomorrow!