So, out on the driveway with the extension ladder and up there with the hose. Funny, but when you get up there and look into the drainpipe, the rotting vegetation floating in there looks for all the world like a long skinny pot full of spinach. Which makes me think of Popeye, which makes me think of Popeye's. So there I am, a-perchin' on the ladder, squirting hydraulic force into the clog, dreaming of a nice plate of Popeye's. Love that chicken
from Popeye's!And along comes a neighbor with interesting news - he saw a blacksnake
in his yard the other day. OK. I'm not Steve Irwin or one of those other TV animal nuts, but way back when I was an itty-bitty barefoot boy with cheek of tan, my dad worked shift work, and I got to go along with him to several houses in the neighborhood where the lady of the house had a snake problem and had called my mom, shrieking, "Is Ross home? There is a ten-foot snake in the basement!!" And we would go and find a ten-inch garter snake, which we'd pick up and return to the woods. So I learned to handle snakes as a child, and if I see this black snake slithering around in the yard, I will not turn and run, my hands waving frantically in the air. Snakes don't bother me...unless the snake is also a dentist, and has a drill in his hand. Then, I run.To each his own. If you live near me and you see the snake, give me a yell. I think I hear talk of the neighbors setting up some sort of vigilante posse committee to round up this varmint and chop his head off or something. That's way harsh. He just wants to live his life, without being forced to show he belongs here on the court.
I mean, what is this, Arizona or something?
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