I’ve posted my story a few times but here goes. We had driven in to the old family farm and mother told everyone to make way because she had to go to the bathroom. She came running back out saying there’s a snake in the toilet. No one believed her. She kept insisting and finally went out back to take care of business. She wouldn’t let it go so grandpa brought in the gas can and poured gas down the toilet. Hey, gas was his solution to everything. Well, there was a bunch of white globs coming up so I sat down on the floor, put my arm on the seat and propped my chin on my arm to watch the globs. BAM! All of a sudden, the gas got to the snake and he flew out hitting me square between the eyes. I ran to the living room and jumped on the couch. Mother jumped on the coffee table. My ever brave Grandpa ran to the kitchen and hollered for someone to shut the bathroom door. Mother, who never used 4 letter words, told him to shut the bleeping door himself. It was an old farm house so the floor had sunk a good 4 inches or more at the door so the snake slithered out and headed himself to the living room. Grandpa had grabbed a hoe and chased him back into the bathroom where it proceeded to climb to the ceiling and kept falling down. Grandpa finally killed it. He later admitted he’d heard noises in the bathroom a couple of nights and had put a brick on the lid.
That’s not the only snake story from the farm, yikes.
That’s a good story my friend.
And yes, like you, I could write a book about the funny snake stories and encounters I’ve had down through the years on my farm.
I just might write that book someday!
My log house is nearly 300 years old.
The door thresholds and walls are anything but square and secure, anymore.
Snakes wander in and out all the time.
I had a black rat snake who used to come into my upstairs bathroom and curl companionably around my ankles while I did my nails.
Good times.