There are few things in this world that will send me into a screaming panicked frenzy. A snake will do it every time. When I was a small child, there was a set of green books on our small bookcase that daddy said were about The Bible. Not being able to read, I would take these books, sit down, and look at the pictures. These pictures weren’t especially for children - they were painted by true artists. One day, as I was looking at the artwork, I came across a picture of the Nehushtan. It showed the Israelites being punished for worshipping idols. They were being bitten by snakes. If they turned their eyes to the bronzed snake on a pole, and repented, they would be saved and wouldn’t die from snakebite. After being thoroughly terrified by the snake picture, I went outside to play. While trying to scoot onto my swing seat, I happened to look down. To my horror, I saw a slithery thing writhing in the dirt. I screamed bloody murder for my mom. “Mommy, SNAKE!!” Out of the screen door burst my mother, brandishing a broom. She proceeded to beat that worm to death, thereby rescuing me. She was my hero. Fast forward to several years ago. I was cutting the grass with the lawnmower when a snake slithered in front of me. Screaming my head off, I leaped several yards away, shuddering and jumping all around. My husband dropped his wheelbarrow and rushed around the side of the house. “What happened?” he demanded, somewhat alarmed. “Snake, S..N..A..K..E..! I shrieked. “Were you bitten?” he asked, now rather panicked and checking out my legs and feet. “NO! But I SAW it!” Fast-forward to several months ago. Our accountant here at The Press and Standard was standing near the front door when all of the sudden she yelled those dreaded and hated words…SNAKE! Now, my desk sits at the back of the room. We are a business filled with computers. That means black cords are everywhere. I repeat…everywhere. At first, I thought it was just her imagination. Carefully, I approached Suzy (who was now sitting on the top of a desk) and asked where it was. She pointed to a corner of the room near the front door. Sure enough, there was a skinny black snake. That’s all the proof I needed. While Suzy sat there yelling for me to do something, I did something. I ran out of the building screaming my head off. And just to be on the safe side, I stood on top of a bench on the porch, shuddering and shaking. Someone had to take charge. Suzy wasn’t coming down from the desk any time soon, and there were no available hunter/gatherer men in the parking lot willing to help. I ran across the street to Ace Hardware where a female can always find someone to help. Thankfully, two employees gathered some tools. With a little snickering, they came into our business to rid us of the vicious snake (which turned out to be a harmless black snake). Within minutes, it was gone. Suzy climbed down from the desk, and our business was back to normal. Or was it? For the next week, shrieks could be heard from me every so often. Why? Because we have SKINNY BLACK CORDS EVERY WHERE! The moral to the story? The Ace Hardware guys are real pals.
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