I was laying on the bed, directly in front of the fan, reading Farley Mowat’s “Never Cry Wolf” which I found at a bookstore for 30 cents. I heard my name called, and I thought, “what now?”.
A knock at the door and a voice telling me I need to come help to kill a snake.
Cool.
I put on my shirt and shoes and look out the door to where every one is staring into the laundry area. I run to the garage to find a tool, but the only thing I find is a seven foot long 2×4 made of Coconut wood with a couple nails sticking out of it, and I grab it and run up the stairs.
Josh is holding a mop and a butcher knife and tells me he thinks it is a cobra, he points to where it is and where he thinks I should be. Josh thinks I should go stand near the Filipina who helps the Burdicks around the house and this means I need to run within a foot of where the cobra is, so I can get an angle on him.
Sounds good.
So I ran by the cobra, waving my stick to distract him, and nothing happens. Light, who is the Filipina, is holding a machete and I grab it from her. I ask where the snake is and she points in the general direction, so I start knocking stuff over with my lumber and then watch for movement.
We had knocked most of recyclable bags over and I was working down the shelf when Josh says he sees the snake. He points to a pile of metal and says the cobra is coiled up in the middle. I shove the wood right in the middle and out he comes.
He lifts his head a foot and a half above the floor and has his mouth open, fangs bared and he is ‘s’-ing back and forth and my heart pounds and the world is silent. Game face on, this is the real deal.
Josh and I are on either end of a 10 foot long hall way, with the snake in the middle, and a pile of odds and ends on the floor for the snake to crawl over and under. The snake is spazzing out, and so are we. The snake heads toward Josh and then makes it to the corner and I send the end of the lumber right at him, over and over like a street fight where I hope something connects.
Something connected and the snake freaks out back at me and I swing the lumber and redirect him onto the shelf where I pummel him and see dents in his body, but he is not finished, because I have only broken him more than half way down.
That mouth is still open and the snake is fighting for his life.
He heads toward Josh, I say, “You are going to need more than that mop!”. Josh swings the mop and the snake strikes, sinks his fangs into the mop and is dragged out onto the floor. He is writhing his body, whether in a death roll or the throes of death, I am not sure, but the machete whacks away like it has a mouth of its own. I make mince out of the cobra’s skull, and his body goes slack.
He is still caught in the mop, and the mop is a great tool to kill a cobra, and this has been an exciting day.
My legs are shaking and my hands are shaking and my heart is racing, I have missed this sweet taste of adrenaline.
