WHEN A SOAKER HOSE IS NOT A SNAKE

Not one soaker hose, two.

Two?

Both chopped and buried.

Right here?

You know the metal thing you screw a hose to?

Yeah, that thing.

They’re in there somewhere.

What if I found the soaker hose and hooked water up?

Those hoses are thirty some feet long. All chopped by shovels or rotten. So don’t be surprised.

Like a snake?

Just like a snake, but no snakes here. You can reach under any of the lush landscaping and not get bit by some apex predator.

I’m thinking alligator.

Python.

Alligator’s worse.

Not when it’s in your lap.

Your lap? Come on.

Got the pictures.

Picture Of A Snake

You and a snake?

In a purple shirt.

Like Prince.

Was he a snake guy?

Jake the Snake.

Alice Cooper. My lap snake, Nume, escaped and became a Hollywood movie star.

Were you in a soda shop.

No.

At the bus station getting scouted by Hollywood pimps?

Even better. At a Santa Monica party with my wife’s high school friends.

You’re the new guy.

Felt that way. And Cali-Dude is convinced I want to see his snake strike an animal for dinner.

You did.

Then the snake told him he wanted to meet me face to face.

Snake face in front of your wife’s high school friends. You hate snakes.

The snake knew. It circled the room, a big room, stopping and looking back at me on the opposite side.

Standing?

Sitting on a white couch.

So you can’t get up.

Won’t get up. I was ready to fight that snake like Marlon Perkins on Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom.

And Jim.

Nume the snake and I watched each other. I telepathically told him I’d make boots out of him if he made the wrong move.

Going medieval.

He crawled up the side of the white couch and started toward me along the back.

Eye contact?

I saw it and saw people in the room watching like they’d seen this before.

Jump up and lock yourself in the bathroom.

Smelling Fear

I relaxed. They might smell fear like dogs. I channeled my boot promise.

He’s crawling across the back of the couch and you’re relaxing?

The movement on my shoulders stopped when the fucker faced off with me.

Turned on you.

Hooked its snake body around parallel to the ground with its head inches from my face.

Party on.

I stayed non-threatening to this wild animal with ‘move along mother fucker.’

Along the couch.

Straight down to my crotch.

Snake on snake.

All good fun. I smiled and waved to the guys and hoped the snake didn’t notice.

You manned the fuck up in front of your wife’s high school friends in LA.

Snake Challenge Champion. A few years later Nume escaped it’s cage and Cali-dude couldn’t find it; his wife locked herself in the bathroom.

Bathtub snake.

And that’s how movie stars are made. They sold it to a pet store and a movie production company bought it. Stardom.

Right. So don’t run water through the soaker hose.

Exactly. See that trellis?

Yeah?

Looks like a snake crushed the poles.

Or a wild soaker hose.

Worse.