I have a strong stomach, but this week’s photo made me GAG! Now, I’m afraid to go to sleep for fear this disgusting image has burned itself into my brain cell (singular). When I was child nightmares of snakes often plagued my sleep. Just when I thought I’d put that chapter behind me—BAM! Now, I have to write about it. Oh well, my shrink says it will be good therapy.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the snake-charmer who summons stories from this basket of serpents, is Medusa Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
I hate snakes. All five kinds—large, small, dead, alive, and rubber.
As a farm boy, I was unfortunate enough to experience dozens of unexpected encounters with these cold-blooded vermin. From March to November they sensed my every move, engaging in a horrible conspiracy to torment and terrorize me—often generating unsightly stains in my underpants.
The most horrific of all these despicable, slimy creatures is the Ozark Snotmouth. This snake does not have fangs, but smothers its victim in a disgusting drool the consistency of rubber cement.
There is no anti-venom. The best defense is tall boots and Kleenex.
* reposted from August 2012
Poetry, Horror, Psychological Thrillers
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Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
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