This story is epic.  Not in the sense that oh it’s so amazing or so crazy, but it’s a serious WHAT THE FUCK, AMBER.  Well, let me tell you 2 things you definitely didn’t know about me (unless you’re like, 1 of 5 best friends) and those 2 things are:

1.       As a teenager I got wrapped up in the whole charismatic Christianity, speaking-in-tongues thing.
2.       I used to have a PARALYZING fear of snakes.  Like.  Psychotically afraid.

The 2nd thing really sucked since we lived on a creek near Louisiana and continuously found snakes in the yard and often in the driveway as we backed our cars out.  They’re cold-blooded and often liked to curl up under the heat of the cars (I know, I know – strange since they’re often in sunlight but it happened so much we got into the habit of looking under the cars from inside the protection of our fancy sliding glass door before going outside to drive).  All of this is important as it is all very relevant in me convincing you that I am not a psychopath when I tell this story.  Okay?

My mom worked nights.  She was a respiratory therapist (and chain smoker who often chided, “Shut the fuck up… I’m conductin’ research baby, me-n-Pat got a study group here on the porch!”) and she’d come in, scrubs and all from her night shift to wake me up for school during my high school days… I was clearly a heavy sleeper even in high school.

This morning she sits down on the bed, and pauses.  She is clearly thinking of how to better phrase something I am not going to want to hear.  “Amber, Bam-Bam?  Baby.  I just want to tell you, you don’t really need to wake up yet but try and be careful when you walk out to your car in the yard.”  My spider sense is already tingling that she’s about to say the fucking S-word and I shoot up.  She places her hands on my shoulders, “Now don’t freak out!  Don’t freak out!  But there is a BIG ASSED SNAKE right fuckin’ in front of you car and it’s just sort of laying there.  Maybe it’ll move by the time you go to school, just watch where yer walkin’…”  I am now in full-blown panic mode.  Hyperventilating… “I’m not going to school, I’m not going to school.” Fuck snakes.  “I’m not going to school.  I don’t want to set foot outside today.”  My eyes are like dinner plates and I’m almost heaving.  I’m talking, this paranoia was severe.  That doesn’t mean I want any of you to fuck with me with rubber snakes after this either!  Anyhow.  Continuing.

My mom concocts this elaborate  plan to destroy said snake for me before I go to school.  Now, the Istre women (mom’s side) are known snake-killers.  My Nana was like a fucking mongoose with a garden ho, like we’re talking Ricky-Ticky-Tavi shit, but my mom was a bit of a pussy compared to the rest of the bloodline and rather than spearing that som’ bitch from the porch with a rake?  She decided it would be best for her to have me stand at the living room window which was at the far left side of the house, to monitor the situation, as she.  A well over 200 pound woman.  “Tip-toed up on it to get in the car, and drive right the fuck over it since it’s like RIIIIGHT in front of yer car!”  I stand at the window in a daze.  I’m spacing out.  I’m still very tired and I see my mom COMPLETELY ELMER FUDD STYLE sneaking up on this snake… area.  Not snake.  Snake area.  I couldn’t see the snake.  My mom.  Still tip-toeing is clearly waving arms and flagging me to get my attention as I am completely blanked out in a 20 mile stare wishing I could still be asleep.

It was early.

Her expressive face “loudly” mouths (keep in mind snakes can feel vibrations and she had keys jangling and the whole 9 yet she still assumed she was safe and going to “surprise it” by tip-toeing and only mouthing things to me- not making any sounds audibly).  Her mouth says, “WHERE’S THE” (she draws the letter S with the hand holding the keys) “SNAAAAKE??”  I just shrug. Her eyes go huge and she, alarmed, mouths “SHIT!”  She very hurriedly fights with the door handle and unlocks my SWEET gray ’91 Corolla and starts the engine.  Bingo.  From behind lace curtains I had found the snake.  It was like “Fuck get me out of here!” and began to leap in giant SUPERMAN-LETTER-S SUPERMAN-LETTER-S SUPERMAN-LETTER-S jumps across the yard.  My mom clearly could not see it as her large body filled my teensy car in what I can only describe the scene as, “Clown car doing figure 8’s” chasing after my excited points at the ever moving target.  This didn’t last long.  She gave up.  Told me she’d park my car in the driveway (as opposed to the grass yard) not far from the sliding door (for obviiiious reasons) and she goes to bed.

An hour passes.

It’s time for school.  I’m shaking as I reach up to the key hook to grab my “FOXY” in glittery blue letters keychain I had bought from Gadzooks.  Keys jangling in hand, palms sweaty.  I am terrified.  My stomach is in knots as I lay my backpack down slowly and sprawl myself, completely on my belly as the snakes I so violently feared, to see completely under the distant car from behind that protective, sliding glass door.  I saw nothing.  I slowly stood up.  Shaking.  I’m praying silently in my head, remember?  I believed in god?  Remember?  Like hardcore Jesus-Freak?  My teeth are chattering.  I’m ‘speaking in tongues.’  “Ya-shudda-bud-ahunda…” under my breath, the heavenly tongue. Strangely enough it always sounded like I said, “You shudda bought a Honda!”  But that’s not relevant.  I open the door.  Panic-stricken and sick of the buildup I take off running AT the car.  Not to the car.  At the car.  

I too was fat at the time and 231 pounds of teenage woman stampeded onto the now-dented hood and slid up over the windshield and crouched on the roof of the car. I never knew I could move so fast.  Or like that!  I didn’t even plan it.  I was just…. AFRAID and I couldn’t bring myself to stand at the door handle and waste all that time.  Time that fucking snake and his snake buddies would clearly use to seek revenge on the users of that fucking car that just tried to take his ass out.  Nooo.  Not gonna get fucked up by a gang of snakes.  Revenge-snake-mafia was not gonna kill me.  I’m looking around the car, trying to see if perhaps said snake had returned and was gnawing puncture wounds into each of my cheerio sized tires.  I’m out-loud saying, “Oh Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…”  God knows, at that time in my life I’m probably even singing, “Nothin’ but the loooove of Jesus” nervously in that weird pitch we all have when we’re scared shitless.  

I see our 3 retarded dogs in the backyard.  They’re barking at me.  Trying to get my attention.  I’m like, “Fuck.  This is like Yeller or Lassie or someshit and they’re trying to warn me about SNAKE-GANG!”  Dogs do that right?  Let their owners know they’re in danger?  Naturally since Romeo was a Shih-Tzu I addressed him in the usual, appropriate voice I (and admit you do it to) say, “BOO-BOO-WOO-BOO-ROMEO!  DOES OO SEE A SNAKE, OOOMEO?  DOES OO SEE A SNAKE?”  He cocks his head to the side.  Idiot.  

I realize I’m being ridiculous, though I’m still totally fucking scared and convinced of snake mafia, but I can’t waste anymore time. I’ve GOT to go to class.  I lay my heavy body down on the roof and reach with the keys to the door handle and surprisingly succeed at opening it this way.  I then crouch again attempting to do some 007-spy-shit with my body, trying to lower it down at an angle to achieve entering-the-car without touching the ground which at this point has made me feel like I was Mario and that was lava.  I’m muttering to myself and probably god, and I can’t freaking do it so I just stop on top of the car, close my eyes to pray in my head to god that a snake would not somehow bite me if my feet touched the ground, and took one weird-fucking-leap-of-faith onto the cement.  My feet hit, “JESUS! JESUS! JESUS!”  I dive into the car and shut the door.  DEEP BREATH.  I look in the rear view mirror to see a very alarmed/puzzled looking man with a hat on, red goatee, holding a clipboard.  Agape. Staring at me in disbelief.

It was the meter man.  He had apparently arrived at some point just before I flew out of that sliding glass door and I’d been too hell bent on staring at the ground to notice.  He saw my whole thing.