For years I worked as an Office Manager for a local preschool by my house in Oakley, California. One of the most important aspects of my job was marketing. I had designed brochures to hand out door to door to try attracting new students to our school. I was also the one who travelled door to door handing out these brochures. I liked spending the time outside.
One day, I was driving along one of the back roads in my town. It was August, so it was very hot outside. I had just passed through an intersection with new construction all around when I spotted a long snake in the road. I felt sorry for this snake, thinking that it must have gotten flushed from the field where it used to live. If it stayed on the road, it was surely going to get run over. I had seen a few snakes with tire tracks through them already, and I didn’t want this to happen to my newfound snake friend. I pulled the car over pretty close to Mr. Snake and got out of the driver’s side door. The snake was spread out about three feet on the road and about a foot away from me. I had run across this situation before and my instincts had been to stomp my foot on the ground, because as we all know from the Simpson’s “Snake Whacking” episode, that snakes do not have ears. The last time I saved a snake’s life, I still lived in San Ramon and I just did some light stomping behind him as he moved to a safer area. It didn’t occur to me until later that the families’ house that I had led him to might not have appreciated their new pet at all.
Just like with my San Ramon snake friend, I began to stomp my foot behind my new Oakley snake friend and he moved a little. So, I stomped again, cheering him on of course; “Come on Snakey, let’s not get run over.” Stomp, Stomp a couple more times. This is when Mr. Snakey decided that he’d had enough of my shit. He sprung up into a now eight foot coil and stared down into my face, with his tongue slithering in and out, begging me to make a move. I was essentially pinned against the door of my car, frozen with fear. If I moved and tried to open my door, he would surely eat me. After a quick eye sprinting evaluation of my surroundings, I decided to run sideways with my back against my minivan around to the passenger side door and climbed in my car, across the center console, and finally back into my driver’s seat. I promptly rolled down my window and started talking to this “Oakley” snake, otherwise known as “Jerk Face Enemy NUMBER ONE. I said in a very low, angry voice, “Oh yeah, Mr. Snake, well Fuck you then. Asshole! Go ahead and die in the middle of the street you dumbass. See if I care! You sir, can bite me.” (Not really. Ha! Ha!.) And I sped off away from the evil serpent, looking in my rearview window and talking out loud some more so that my Oakley Snake Fucker Enemy knew some more just how much I did not care whether he lived or died.