Snakes. Why Did It Have To Be . . .Snakes

So, after the Raisiny Toe Nibbling Scratch and the Curious Wearing of the Hat of Wrong, Sunday night had more to offer.

Bump came up from the laundry room and announced, “There’s a baby snake in my laundry basket. That or a really big nightcrawler.”

Now, the fact that Bump was not squealing at the top of his lungs at this point is a great credit to his self-control. Bump does not like . . .critters. (He hates picnics because he feels like you’re just eating out there among the bugs, and really, why would anyone in their right mind choose to do that? While you can justifiably throw creatures out of your house, if you’re out there in their territory, you can’t really complain if they come crawling up on your blanket now, can you? We don’t do a lot of dining al fresco.)

We have lived in our apartment since September 1996. The most interesting laundry room incidents to date involve lost quarters and a stolen space heater. I couldn’t believe there was a worm in the laundry room, so I went down with the camera.

My brother raised nightcrawlers for bait when we were kids, and I think of worms as friendly creatures. I thank them for aerating the soil when I see them in the garden, and take their presence as a sign of healthy dirt.

Can you see it between the laundry baskets? I was pretty sure it was the biggest nightcrawler I’d ever seen.

Then I thought it might be a little scaly for a worm, and maybe its head was a little too pointy. So I moved the smaller basket.

Yeah, definitely a baby snake.

Bump joined me in the laundry room as I was trying to convince the snake to slither into the trash can. When Bump walked in, I asked him if I should take it outside instead, and he quickly affirmed it was a much better idea to take it outside.

So I brought the laundry basket and baby snake up to the landing and dumped it out onto the sidewalk, where it slid away to be eaten by a mongoose or something.

What? Are there no mongeese/mongoose/mongooses in suburban DC? Well who the hell thought there would be a FUCKING SNAKE in suburban DC, huh? (I have no idea what natural predators snakes face, I just guessed at the mongoose thing. I’m even too lazy to look up the plural.)

Maybe a neighborhood cat will hiss at it and scare it, or even attack it and bring it half-dead to the unsuspecting owner as a gift. Maybe the snake will be collected with the wet leaves on the ground and pulverized into mulch. Maybe it will be swept into the sewers.

Look, all I’m saying is that there was a mutherfucken snake in my mutherfucken laundry room, and while I handled that shit right quick (look at me, defending my family’s soiled socks from the terrifying threat of nature), it creeps me out more than a little bit.

Because (Bump stop reading now) Baby Snake equals Mama Snake, and Mama Snake don’t bother having one baby at a time, if you know what I mean. I’m picturing the storage unit beside our laundry room as some sort of staging area for Arlington Snake Invasion 2007.

Maybe this snake was just one of many sent out on Sunday night to gather information on our capabilities. Right now, it’s joining its brothers and sisters to analyze the data and bring their evil plan one step closer to launch. They’re probably even grooming their own candidate for the 2008 election.


Alternative titles for this post: "Why Sarah Will Never Come to Visit Me Again," or "Why Bump Is Never Returning to the Laundry Room Without His Trusty Snake Fighting Equipment"

Oh, by the way, this is Bump’s Trusty Snake Fighting Equipment:

Bump returned to the laundry room with grocery bags and a pair of tongs. I promised I wouldn’t make fun of him, but I have no idea what those tongs were for. First, I’m pretty sure the snake was too small to be grabbed by a pair of tongs, and second, that sumbitch was fast. There’s no way we slow-reflexed, squeamish citydwellers were going to be grabbing it with some glorified tweezers.

The keys were my contribution. We usually just leave the door ajar when we go to the laundry room, but I was certain it would be an incident like this that would lead to a post entitled "How My Husband and I Locked Ourselves Out of the House. . .

"In the Rain . .

"While Our Baby Slept Inside. . .

"With His Crib Surrounded By Snakes . . .

"Who Were Aggressively Seeking Contributions for SnakePAC08"