Saturday, October 11, 2008

Sneaky Snake

DATE: March 29, 1998
SUBJECT: Sneaky Snake

Dear Friends and Letter Toleraters,

I was speed shopping last week when I bought a mascara for three dollars. The color was called berry brown. I wore it to church last Sunday. The pastor gave a touching message and I began to weep. When I looked at the Kleenex after wiping my eyes, the white tissue contained purple splotches! I had bought purple mascara. I looked like a real party animal.

The teacher called to tell me that my daughter has a 36 average in Pre-Algebra. I asked My Daughter about it when she got home. She told me not to worry about THAT because she also had detention. Evidently my daughter expressed her displeasure for the teacher in a disrespectful manner, and had to stand in the hall. And I thought she was only failing the class. The positive thing is that My Daughter feels better since she got all that tension and repressed anger out of her system.

My Son got a pair of pointy-toed boots and is practicing being a cowboy. He’s lasso-ed everything in the house, including the blind dog. I knew this would happen if we moved to the South. He still listens to Metallica, and I haven’t found any snuff cans so maybe there’s still hope. Do pray for us though – just look what God has to work with. My Husband is the only normal one in our family, and I don’t know how he got mixed up with us. Lucky, I guess.

I walked in from church Wednesday night and greeted My Husband who was nearly asleep on the sofa. “YOUR son brought home a snake”, he replied casually.

“What kind of snake did YOUR son bring home?” I asked.

“A big one.”


“Yes, a python I think he said.”

“Did you tell him that he couldn’t keep it?”

“No, I thought you’d want to.”

At the top of the stairs a proud teen and a huge serpent greeted me. I’m not talking about a little grass snake. It is a 6-foot long python. “Son, we can’t keep a snake in the house.”

“But mom”, he started, “the guy I got it from is moving and has no place to keep it, and I’ve already paid him a hundred dollars.”

That was four days ago and the snake is still here. My Son is letting it warm up on the hood of his car as I type. Just when I thought it was safe to come out of the prayer closet, I have a constricting reptile and two teenagers to deal with – one of whom is not speaking to me. Tell me, do those Charter places where they send crazy people have time-share plans? I could buy a couple of weeks of red time and check in and out as needed. I could space-bank the weeks I didn’t use and take my friends on vacation with me.

By the way, I failed My Son’s term paper. What is plagiarism? Well, I need to go see what’s burning in the crock-pot. I’ll write more later.

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