This happened about 6 months ago.
It was about 1 in the morning and I was diligently working on my computer. I went to the bathroom to pee. I stayed in the bathroom a while, acting out in front of the mirror. I do this pretty regularly. I have these very animated conversations with myself, sometimes playing out both parts of the conversation. It's like I'm putting on a little play for myself. (I also have “real life” friends, by the way.)
Anyway, I got caught up in whatever scenario I was acting out, so I was in there for maybe 5 or 10 minutes. When I'd finished screwing around, and was ready to buckle down again and bring home the bacon, I went back to my room and sat down in front of my computer. That's when I noticed something on top of the computer monitor.
Let's back up:
The day before I had been sound-proofing my room, and I had some left over pieces of weather stripping laying around.
There's a piece of weather stripping laying on top of my computer monitor.
Let's back up again (sorry):
I keep the lighting pretty low in my room. I'm all about mood, and am kind of fanatical when it comes to indirect lighting. Therefore, I just use a single, small lamp that sits on the floor. Because of this, a shadow is cast above the computer monitor, so it's fairly dark up there. Also, when you factor in the light emitting from the front of the monitor, which creates a silhouette effect, then it is indeed one of the darkest areas of the room (if you're sitting directly in front of the computer, which I was).
Got all that? I'm explaining this so you'll understand why I did what I did.
This is what I did:
I reached up and grabbed the piece of weather stripping on top of my monitor.
Which would've been fine, except that it turned out not to be a piece of weather stripping after all. It was actually a snake, and it bit me. I mean, it viciously bit the FUCK out of me.
Naturally, I was quite surprised.
I jumped up and turned on the main overhead light. “HOLY SHIT!” I exclaimed loudly. My heart was pounding. I looked at my hand, which was now bleeding. That thing really bit the crap out of me.
The snake was about 3 feet long and had brownish-gray markings. I knew I had to capture it, because if it was poisonous, then I'd have to be able to identify it in order to get the proper antivenin. You can't just tell the doctor you were bitten by a snake, you know; they need to know exactly what kind of snake it was.
I didn't feel like dying just then. I wasn't ready to die. There were so many things I wanted to do with my life. I still had never had sex with a black woman, for example. And other stuff, too.
I immediately pulled my t-shirt off and went after the snake. I intended to use the shirt as a protective “glove” of sorts; something to gather the the snake up in so that it wouldn't bite me again. The snake was sliding down off of my work table and onto the floor. I have lots of electronic equipment in this room, with lots of cables everywhere and there were many places for a snake to hide, so I had to get this fucker fast.
The poor snake is panicking too, and just trying to get the hell away from me. We're both pretty freaked out at this point, and wishing we'd never met each other. He's trying to slither behind a guitar amp, and I'm yelling at him “Oh, no you don't, you little fucker!” I finally clamp down on the slithering little cocksucker and successfully gather him up into my shirt. A t-shirt is not the best snake-catching tool, but I was motivated, and made it work.
Let's back up again (sorry, last time):
Before I continue, I should explain something: I have a weird thing about snakes. Always have. It's not that I'm scared of them - I'm not. I just seem to get into situations with them more often than other people. One might even use the word “mystical” to describe my apparent connection with snakes. In fact, people have; all my friends know about my weird “snake thing”. I know it sounds kind of flaky, but what can I say? Sometimes the truth is flaky. I don't make the rules. Snakes and I are just drawn to each other. Same thing with lesbians, but that's another story.
The very first snake incident happened when I was about 3 years old. I picked up a handful of baby rattlesnakes (which are just as deadly as adult rattlesnakes, by the way) and held them up to my mom, saying “Look, mommy! Look at the pretty worms!”
So that's the first incident - of many. I have no idea what it means. But, in any case, it's because of all this that I've pondered that my death may be delivered via snake bite. It's not something I ever sat around worrying about, but it had crossed my mind many times.
Well, this time I was worrying about it.
Anyway, back to the story:
So now I've got this long, wiggly bastard clutched within my t-shirt, and I'm in the kitchen looking for a jar or something to get him into. I find a big, glass candy jar from last Christmas. It has a lid. Perfect. I get him in there (which wasn't easy to do, believe me), and put the lid on. Ok, so that's taken care of.
I look at the snake, now safely imprisoned inside the jar. It looks like it could be a harmless oak snake... but it also looks like it might be a timber rattler. If it is a timber rattler, I'd definitely need to go to the hospital. I'm checking out the head to see how triangular it is, but the head looks kind of questionable.
Time to get on the internet.
I do a quick google image search for “timber rattler”, then “oak snake”. I get several pictures, but I really can't tell. There's some variation in each species, and my guy looks kind of in between.
I turn my attention to my bleeding hand. I'd been bitten by non-poisonous snakes before, and it was never all that different from getting bit by a lizard, really; relatively painless, and certainly no blood. But this one was different. I'm bleeding, and I know that if this snake is poisonous, then I'm fucked.
Shit. Guess I have to call a fucking ambulance.
I call 911 and a nice man tells me to sit down, relax, and keep my hand low. He says to sit tight and the ambulance will be on its way. So I sit and wait for the ambulance.
The ambulance gets there within a few minutes, and I walk out to the front yard with my jar. It's a man and a women paramedic, and I show them the snake. They both look at him, but they, too, are unable to figure out if the little shit head is poisonous or not. In a way, this makes me feel better (I may be about to die, but at least I'm not crazy), but it doesn't solve my problem. They look at my hand. The woman says, “I can't tell you if this snake is poisonous or not, but I have treated snake bites before, and it's always looked like two large fang wounds.”
“Like a vampire bite?” I say.
“Like a vampire bite.” she says.
They ask me if I want to go to the hospital. It's up to me. I look at my bite, which isn't bleeding anymore, and doesn't look anything like a vampire bite. I tell them, nah, it's cool... if I start feeling sick, I'll call them back. I'm not seriously worried at this point, but the experience has left me a little shaken. Getting bit by a snake while you're working on your computer is like getting into a car accident while you're taking a shower. It's very alarming, and takes a while to shake off.
The ambulance pulls away. I take my snake back inside the house, and sit on the sofa. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to die. And even if I did, I probably would never have hooked up with a black chick anyway. Whenever I try to talk to black girls, they always look at me like I'm from another planet or something. I don't know why. I'm always very nice about it.
But now that I'm just chillin' on the couch, watching over my vital signs, I start thinking. How the fuck did that snake get in my room in the first place? Why was he just sitting there, on top of my monitor? That's really fucking weird... and out of all the non-poisonous snakes in this region, why did it just happen to be the one snake that looks the closest to a timber rattler?
I started to feel like someone up there had set me up. Was this a warning? Like in those mob movies? Was somebody trying to tell me something? I started to get emotional.
I considered that I should change my life. I should be a better person. I should help people. There are certainly a lot of people out there who need it. I thought about old friends that I'd fallen out of touch with along the way. I should get back in touch with those people. Relationships are what give life its meaning.
Maybe the snake was actually a gift, and was sent here to save my soul. I've always been kind of a fuck up, wasting my potential on things that don't last. Maybe it's time I stop screwing around, and finally get serious about life... time to settle down, start a family. Raise a kid.
That would be beautiful.
But then I was like “fuck that”, and got drunk instead. Hey, I'm not going to let some cocksucking snake tell me how to live my fucking life. Besides. Even if I can't persuade some black chick to have sex with me, I can always just get a prostitute. I'm not above that.