After the Flower Bed Betrayal incident in Part 1 of the Snake Chronicles, I stopped myself from reaching for a shovel and decided to go with a more woodland princess vibe than serial snake murderer.
So instead, I grabbed a rake, thinking I’d just scoop it up and relocate it.
After several attempts at gentle relocation, however, it became clear this snake was not respecting my personal growth journey.
Things escalated. Quickly.
I scooped it up and flung it into the vacant lot next door. But in complete rebellion, the reptilian psychopath slithered right back toward me with its little snaky head raised like it was sizing me up for a fight.
At that point, we were no longer peacefully coexisting. I yelled, “Oh HELL no!”
And I started swinging like one of those rotating lawn sprinklers because this thing was absolutely determined to return to my homestead.
Finally—out of breath and sweating like a sinner in church—I took one last swing, like Babe Ruth swinging for the wall at Yankee Stadium.
WHOOSH. Snake airborne.
Gone into the park across the street. I saw it continue on its merry way in its new habitat. Victory!
…Or so I thought.
But apparently my yard had become some kind of snake Uber drop-off location. After I moved to the flower beds in front of the house, within minutes snake number two appeared.
Then snake number three.
At this point I felt like Bruce Willis in Die Hard but with a plastic yard rake. “Yippee-ki-yay, Mother—”
Launched number two—success! Launched number three—rebellion! I ran into the middle of the street like a samurai as number three attempted to re-invade and flung it again—success!!
By then my arms felt like overcooked noodles, sweat was stinging my eyes, and I had become fully paranoid about where the next one might appear. Just when I thought it was safe…
I heard rustling beneath the lilac bush. Snake number four. The biggest one yet. It was like every time I flung one across the street, another one appeared like:
“Ma’am… we’ve been trying to reach you about your car warranty.”
Finally, after twelve rounds of strategic maneuvering with the Moby Dick of garter snakes, I screamed:
“OMG!! JUST GO AWAY, YOU STUPID $#@&ER!”
I gripped that rake with the rage of a woman who just wanted to peacefully plant flowers and launched snake number four like I was competing for Olympic gold in backyard snake shot put.
I don’t know where it landed. I did not care.
What I DID know is that…I did not kill it. Or any snakes. Which means my covenant with Mother Nature and the good Lord remains intact on my end.
Honestly, if my Fitbit had accurately recorded the cardio involved in launching slithering reptiles, you’d think I was training for the Hunger Games instead of peacefully planting impatiens… which felt especially ironic considering I was rapidly growing impatient with my flower beds turning into Tinder for snake meet-ups.
I texted my husband that we needed to get more Snake Be Gone granules and spread IMMEDIATELY before I ended up on the local news. Because if any neighbors or passersby witnessed or God forbid recorded today’s snake war, they have viral video footage.
We started using Snake Be Gone after retiring from our former lives as serial snake murderers. The granules don’t kill the snakes—they just encourage them to go ruin someone else’s day instead. You do need to reapply periodically throughout snake season.
So if you’d also like to garden without risking a murder charge at the pearly gates, here’s a link to get some Snake Be Gone for yourself:
If you buy through my link, I may earn a tiny commission that will probably cover approximately 14 dog treats.
Anyway… off we go—because the dogs still need walked, snakes be snakin’, and apparently I’ve added “snake shot putter” to my résumé. Part 3 coming soon…
Anyway...Off We Go 