This Was Not In My Job Description

I am such a priss.

Ella: Hello?
Me: Hey! Guess what I just did?
Ella: No telling.
Me: I killed a snake in our driveway!
Ella: A SNAKE? What kind of snake?
Me: The snake kind! How the hell should I know?

I was outside, sweeping the porch, when I saw a little girl running down the street. "MOMMY! MOMMY! HELP! A SNAKE!" she screamed. I chuckled, thinking one of those King Kong-sized snakes must have been chasing her by the way she was acting. So I stepped off the porch and saw an anaconda slithering up our driveway.

And then I became a little girl.

Only my mommy was nowhere to be found.

So I went to the garage, grabbed a hoe (in hindsight, a shovel would've been a much better idea, but my mind was set on decapitating, not smashing), and told the kids I loved them.

All the screaming (the little girl's, not mine (at least that's what I've been telling myself since the incident)) had brought the old lady across the street out of her house. We found the boa constrictor under my car. "Is that thing venomous?" I asked.

"I think so," she replied.

"Great."

"Well, I'm leaving. I don't want to watch this."

"Neither do I," I told her.

I contemplated running over the rattlesnake with the car, but I quickly realized there were three flaws with this option:

1. I would end up with venomous snake guts smashed into my driveway. I'm pretty sure the Community Association would have issues with this.
2. I would probably spaz out and crash into the garage.
3. I knew as soon as I opened the car door, the cottonmouth would sink its fangs deep into my ankle and instantly kill me. The car's windows were up, so pulling a Bo and Luke Duke was not an option
   

So I got down on my hands and knees (not the ideal position to begin battle with a coral snake) and put all my late nights in seedy dives to good use: using the hoe as a cue stick, I scooted the black mamba to the other side of the car. I jumped into the car, backed it into the middle of the street, and left it there. The copperhead had nowhere to hide.

But neither did I.

I walked up to the cobra. He was ready for me. He was curled up with his head ready to strike. I cowered and decided to try to sneak up on the creature.

Do you know how hard it is to sneak up on an extremely agitated snake?

Finally, I raised the hoe high above my head and, with all my strength, brought it down hard on the concrete.

I totally whiffed.

The viper just laughed at me. "Is that all you got, pooh boy?" he hissed.

At least that's what it sounded like. Fear has a way of messing with your mind.

I was pissed. I was not going to be defeated by an arrogant, talking adder. On my next try, I made contact. After seven more blows, the beast was in two.

You know how they say if you cut off a chicken's head, the body will sometimes start running? The same is true for snakes.

I stood over my foe, nudging it every few seconds, until both pieces finally stopped moving. I walked back into the house and prepared the kids' snacks.

"What were you doing outside, Daddy?" Zoey asked. I got a beer out of the fridge, took a big swig, and smiled. "Taking care of business, Zoey. Just taking care of business." I then went back outside to remove the earthworm carcass from my driveway. It might've taken me seventeen minutes what most men could've accomplished in ninety seconds, but I got the job done.

Who wants a pair of boots?

Song of the day: Brand New Key by Melanie