I saw yesterday where a friend made a Facebook post about having a mean old snake in her living room. I told her I was unimpressed by her snake-handling skills because I figured she wouldn't be the type to be afraid of a snake.
I am not afraid of snakes. Cautious for sure, but not afraid of them. I dig them. They interest me. So I armed myself with a bucket and a broom and a machete and went calling to see if I could remove the reptile.
The monster in question was approximately 18 inches long and about as big around as a dime at the fattest part. Also, it was already dead from an attack by the family cats. So I scooped a dead snake into a bucket with a broom and left that house a hero! I felt like St. Patrick, but less Irish and totally sober at the time.
