If you have a weak stomach, you probably don't want to read this. I'm mostly just chronicling the event for posterity. :P
So awhile back I killed a couple of snakes. Apparently we have/had a nest of them under our patio. This isn't surprising, every year I usually see at least one back there. Once we start moving around more out there I think they move out to greener pastures (i.e. the neighbor's yard). The first one I got right up next to the patio, except my shovel wasn't sharp enough and it was kind of a long, grueling death. I almost felt bad for it, but I Don't Like Snakes. It puked on the blade of the shovel, then finally Carl came out and stepped hard on the shovel to take it out the rest of the way. The second one was a little further out, I actually got it while it was partially in its hole. It was sunning itself in the grass, I had enough time to walk to the front yard for the shovel and when I came back it was still there. That one I got right behind the head, I'm pretty sure at that point it was mortally wounded, but again the shovel was dull, so I had to have Carl step on it. Woe to me for wearing flip-flops. Anyway, gross story, yeah.
Posted by tomiandc at May 28, 2007 07:31 PM