This is the story of a recent and unwelcome visitor at our home.
I was driving away from the office and The Wife calls. I could immediately tell that something was amiss. The Wife, being none too happy, proceeds in telling me that a snake was in our sun porch. I don’t know how it got there, but it managed to get from the yard, across a nice hot patio and under the door somehow. The Wife and the children were in need of a hero. They couldn’t call Ghostbusters, so they had to settle for me. The Wife and any of the children are 10000% bigger than this little thing was, but they still wanted me to take care of it even though I was still 25 min away. Nor did The Wife like my suggestion of sending my boys in there to smash it with their feet. So they waited for me to get home.
Anyway, I got home, assessed the situation calmly, grabbed the tongs from the kitchen, and removed the roughly 10″ reptile from the sun porch to make a deposit in the alley branch of the First National Bank of Yard Waste. (Yeah, I washed the tongs!)
If I listened to rap music, certainly my theme song for this event would have been something about “feeling good to be a gangsta.”
Some time passes the same afternoon. There is some water on the floor. The Wife asks those children who are in the kitchen, “Where did that water come from?”
Flip (3), without delay says, “It’s from the snake.”
Having not yet fully recovered from the earlier events, The Wife is once again wigged out with the thought of this.
I asked Flip, also nonchalantly, “What would you have done to get rid of the snake?”
“I would have used a cannon.”
About ready to bust a gut, I reply, “Oh really? Where would you get one.”
Flip replies, nonchalantly, “From Costco. The cannons are by the vacuums.”
Perhaps something like this was in mind: