Cold-hearted

Yesterday, I was fixing Dillon's breakfast, which means I was taking the wrapper off of his cereal bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something flick by the microwave.

Let's think of some things that flick. I know one! Snakes.

Yeah, there was a snake flicking by the microwave. In my house.

I thought of rational things to do, then screamed and ran hysterically back to the bathroom where Daniel was enjoying a leisurely shower.

"There is a snake in the kitchen! By the microwave! I don't like it!"

Daniel looked at me, probably trying to figure out if I was STILL trying to April Fool's him. He decided that I wasn't and climbed out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

When we got back to the kitchen, he took control of the situation. "I can't see. Can you get my glasses?"

Dutifully, I sprinted back to the bathroom. Along the way, I stepped on Daniel's wet footprints in the hall and almost threw up in my mouth from revulsion - I was sure I had just stepped on a snake. I held down the heebie-jeebies and ran faster on the way back, glasses in hand.

"I am going to need a flashlight."

I headed for the laundry room where we keep a big red one, I guess for situations like this. Unfortunately, Dillon loves that flashlight and had left it on, draining the batteries.

"Go see if there is one in our room."

I ran back to our room again, watching the floor for reptiles, and found a tiny black flashlight that can burn out your retina from a mile away. (Policemen need stuff like this!)

He shone the light under the microwave and saw the snake. It had flicked its way back into the corner.

"I need a broom or something."

He chooses a time like this to clean??? I walked (not ran) into the laundry room and got him a broom. This fetching game was getting old, especially since he was just standing in the middle of the kitchen holding his towel up.

Thinking about the fact that he was just wearing a towel, I got a little concerned. If you have seen Snakes on a Plane, you know that it is a scientific fact that snakes tend to gravitate toward sexual organs. (Or maybe that just happens when the movie is particularly stupid.) Making sure he was well-covered, I handed him the broom.

Daniel poked at the snake till it flicked out from under the microwave, over the counter and behind the fridge. He then pulled the fridge out and stabbed repeatedly at the snake until he had obliterated its head.

My hero!

He swept it out from behind the fridge (I guess that is what the broom was for?) and into an empty Pringles can. I peeked inside and noticed that the snake had shrunk to the size of a large earthworm. Strange!

We agreed that it must have been a copperhead, and since there was no one there to tell us different, we are standing by our story. Don't you think that makes it more dramatic?

All I know is that the sudden hissing sound of rain on my windshield on the way to school made me gasp and made my heartbeat accelerate, and I am on the lookout for things that flick.