WOODLAND HORROR

Unfortunately there's a Blogger glitch on this post and the comment "Thingy" (a technical word) went awry and has stopped working.

This is a (sort of) continuation of my previous post.

The past few days here in Daniel Boone Land have been ......particularly trying.
Let's begin with last Sunday and work our way up to the exciting climax.

Wasps are building nests everywhere around the house. That's nothing new, but this year they are extremely aggressive wasps. They attack with sudden, unexpected force like Kamikazi pilots. I was stung three times this summer.

Lately the wasps have been building a nest directly above the back door and every time I open it I get attacked.
On Sunday morning I cautiously opened the door and one  flew inside the house. It immediately hit my left hand and stung me under the thumb.

I always have bad reactions from insect bites, but this one was the worst. The pain subsided within a few hours, but my hand swelled like an inflated rubber glove - accompanied by intense itching.

By Monday morning my gigantic hand itched like an anthill and the itching was traveling down my wrist.

As if this wasn't enough, my back went "out". I always have severe back trouble due to old spinal injuries - but sometimes my back completely malfunctions and the pain is too excruciating to move.

While I'm scratching my ravaged hand and limping like Quasimodo, I suddenly get a bout of dysentery - courtesy of eating too much fermented cantaloupe and ice cream.

On Tuesday morning things are no better. I'm scratching, limping, and battling the shits.

I limp into the bedroom (wearing nothing but my underwear)  and notice that Bosco (the cat) is intensely looking at something.
That "something" is hiding behind an antique trunk at the foot of my bed.

Fighting my reluctance to face another problem, I eventually force myself to take a peek at the interloper.
It's grey, curled up, and has a tail.

I assume that it's a 'possum. I've already had two previous 'possums in the house. They're more annoying than scary.
I limp to the garage and drag in a cage. I put a bowl of cat food in the cage and carefully position the cage near the 'possum. That's how I caught the last two.

After ushering Bosco out of the room, I limp to the kitchen and get a broom. Perhaps I can coax the critter into the cage.

Imagine my surprise when I return to the bedroom.....and the critter is gone.

Imagine my HORROR...

okay, we can all scream now

......when I turn around and see a big snake sticking out of one of my dresser drawers!!!!!! ( I had left the drawer halfway open).

 I grabbed my camera and took this for posterity

My numb mind was having trouble registering reality.

That was no 'possum! It's a gargantuan serpent from hell!

I grabbed a trash can and the broom and VERY CAUTIOUSLY tried to coax the revolting reptile into the can.

It made a horrifying hissing sound, slithered into the drawer, and disappeared!!

I retreated from the bedroom and slammed the door shut. 

Now I'm limping, scratching, and shaking like a pansy in a zephyr.

Despite my agonizing back and knocking knees, I manage to get to the kitchen and....

You are not going to believe this, but I swear to Gawd Almighty it's true

....there's a small BIRD flying around!!!! It must have gotten in when I left the front door open a crack to let my other cat Kitzee out.

So there's a mega snake in my dresser drawer and a wild sparrow in the kitchen. It's like an expunged episode of Wild Kingdom.

I somehow managed to corner the bird and cup him in my good hand. Then I guide him out the front door. He was eager to leave.

I'm only assuming the bird was a he. It could've been a she.

 I start reading everything I can find about snakes on the Internet.

"Never fear snakes. They are our friends."

Yea. Tell that to Adam and Eve.

I cut through the PETA crap and start reading about the poisonous snakes of Tennessee.

Then I study photos, trying to identify the snake in the drawer. It's a complete impossibility.

The crash course on serpents is getting me nowhere. I'm clueless and afraid to go back in the bedroom. 

By now it's early evening. I eventually open the bedroom door a crack. The snake is slithering on a bookcase!

How the hell can they climb so good with no limbs??

I slowly approach, armed with a broom. The thing starts hissing again, slides down, and quickly disappears under a chest of drawers.

This time I'm determined to trap him. I grab everything I can find (boxes, books, etc) and block the entire area under the chest of drawers. I figure there's no way he can get out.

It's getting dark. I valiantly decide to wait until morning to capture him.

AND I courageously decide to sleep in my room.

Hell, this isn't the first time I ever slept with a snake......

I keep a bright light on.
I keep my myopic eyes peeled for danger.
I keep reassuring myself that the revolting reptile is safely imprisoned under the chest of drawers.

Dawn finally arrives.

At this point - trying to make a long story short is a complete impossibility.

 Despite my bad back, swollen hand, and monumental apprehension - I decide to take action quickly. Armed with a broom and plastic trashcan.....
I cautiously look under the chest of drawers.

The snake is gone.

While trying to keep from swooning, I limp into the living room and discover Bosco - - who is completely preoccupied with something.
It's the snake, hiding behind a box and hissing like a deflating dirigible.

After two dozen tries, I finally manage to swoosh the snake out from behind the box. It coils up. I grab a large plastic trash can and plop it over him.
Then I carefully maneuver the trash can to the front door. I lift it slightly and the snake quickly slithers out, over the porch, down the steps, and into the yard.
It looks three feet long.

He's unnervingly close to the house, but what the hell else could I do - - drive him to Nashville?

Here's the big question:
Is this a happy ending?

My hand is no longer swollen, but still extremely itchy.
My back hurts but I'm not exactly limping.
And I'm snake-free. At least for the moment.

It'll take a few months for a sufficient psychological recovery, and I now have another phobia on my (very) long list of woodland horrors. But I'll survive.

Maybe.