So, here you have this inquisitive young person, prancing and dancing around the table, taking her time in checking out these problematical parcels. As I’ve thought about this through the years, I can remember the odd presence on my father’s face. You see, I didn’t recognize it at the time, but he underhandedly watched as I ritualized the process of peeking in the bags. Now, I didn’t take the time to peer in the package on this specific day. No, I effortlessly eased my hand into the first one sitting at the edge. Still not gazing in, I moved my hand around the inside of the bag. Doing that, alerted my senses to something strange in makeup. So peculiar, I immediately turned my face to the top; drawing my hand out, and hovering my head over, there it sat – gazing back at me. Could I be dreaming? This could not possibly be real. But, it stared back at me; curled in the bottom, with it’s head waving from side to side. I certainly knew it would strike for sure. There, right in my immediate vision, a black snake with some weird stripes on its head.
Now, do you think I hung around to ask questions, or even clearly understand what had happened? Absolutely not. The shocked teen’s hands went toward the ceiling, mouth blasted open, and she bolted away from that table. She ran out of the dining room, through the living room, out the front door, and banged through it never stopping to use the handle. From there, she leaped from the porch onto the sidewalk, and headed out as fast as possible; not even with a destination in mind, only needing to get out of the presence of the threat. My block had the length of two long city streets. When the crazy man caught up to me, I had made it half way to the Avenue. The rubber snake in the bag may have sent me, the teenager, leaping like a frightened, but curious feline – however, break the habit – never.
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