I have only one fear in this world. I have broken 33 bones, done my own stitches twice, had my right hand reconstructed after burning it down to the bones and tendons, survived being married to one of the meanest, most controlling people for 10 years (Dame and Mock can attest to this), and am willing to be in the dating world as a 34-year-old fat, balding father of two (amazing kids) who needs spectacles to see his awesomely developed calf muscles. None of these scare me….but SNAKES DO!
This irrational fear is justified. At the age of four, my family moved to northern Wisconsin from southern California. As we awaited our house to be built, we lived in a farmhouse owned by one of the parishioners of my father’s church. (Yes, I am a preacher’s kid…it might explain a lot.) My brother and I had to share a room during these months. Many nights, my brother (one of my true heroes) would gather a bevy of the harmless slithering evil wriggle-sticks (also known as Garter Snakes) and place them in the feeted region of my made bed. Hence, I would plop my puny, pre-awesome calves and push my scrawny self in to my bed only to find a pile of disgust writhing in my Aquaman sheets. As I screamed, my brother gloated and laughed.
This fear has never left me. The only way that I become stricken with dread is when faced with the beady, lifeless eyes and flickering tongue of a snake. (Allow me to say that I have dated a few women recently with the same characteristics…and I was not filled with apprehension.)
As I prepared to leave my home for my golf trip this past weekend, I was flipping the stations and happened to see a 10-second clip from a show highlighting an Australian family who found a boa constrictor curled up in their toileting place. A freaking snake was in the toilet! My heart raced and my brow furrowed (as if I had just seen Molly Ringwald at a tanning salon). As the sun fell and the night air poured through the community, I sat in my bed scheming.
Upon waking to the dew of morning, I knew I had only one hour to set my Snake Traps! I took from the pantry a new bottle of Lysol Toilet Cleaner with Bleach and emptied half of the bottle in each of my very own porcelain snake charmers. I then utilized the bristle-scrubber to effectively coat every surface in the “turd-zone” with the bleach solution. Without flushing (as the directions had guided), I closed the lids and placed “The Complete Works of W.B. Yeats” on the hall seat and an assorted collection of poetry on the master bath’s seat. And I waited….for my ride.
And then it hit me. I had to use the restroom. But the traps were set. And I still had 5 cases of beer to get out of the garage. As each of these dilemmas crushed my skull, I needed respite from this turmoil. Action will prevail. So I quickly grabbed the beverages and my clubs, raced my packed clothes, clubs and other must-haves out to wait. As my ride arrived, I loaded the truck and asked to stop a mere 1/2-mile from my home to use the restroom. Crisis averted. (I will have to elaborate another time on the crisis of “playing an away game“. I hate to use public restrooms…but snakes trump germs!)
Upon returning on Sunday evening, I checked my traps. Neither had been sprung nor tampered with. Obviously, the snakes in my sewers know who’s boss.
Absurdly yours,
Holmes
So then, what you’re saying is you’ve never seen “Snakes on a Plane”.
Also, I KNEW there had to be a reason for the way you are! Not that there’s anything wrong with being a preacher’s kid, but, come on. We all know how a religious smackdown affects teenagers…
My biggest fear as a child was that a snake was going to climb up the toilet and bite my butt. Thanks for re-awakening that fear.
Dear Holmes,
Please explain paragraph 1. Are you missing some important brain chemical that enables the fear response (i.e., the all-important healthy sense of self preservation)? Mine works in hyperdrive at all hours of every single day, so I am flummoxed by your actions.
I find it very interesting that a person who will slalom off his own roof married a controlling woman. This is a fun chicken-and-egg brain teaser. Which came first? Bygod, if you have married a man who will do this sort of thing without a second thought, you had better just put on your Big Girl Panties every morning to deal with it, and keep the doctor on speed-dial.