But I digress…
The first thing I notice in the pet store is an enormous stuffed iguana. I personally think it’s in bad taste to have a dead reptile so prominently displayed in a pet store. I find it intriguing, though. I’ve never really taken a good look at a lizard this big. I lean over and peer into its reptilian eyes. I introduce myself. “Hi, Mr. Iguana. I’m Jamie Bravo, private detective.” Before I realize what’s happening, the reptilian eye blinks and his tongue flicks out, missing my nose by mere centimeters.
“Holy crap!” I yell, leaping back. I slam into the pet store guy who has a python wrapped around his neck and shoulders like an overly long scarf.
London has her gun out and pointed at the snake. “Don’t move,” she tells the pet shop guy. The snake moves enough so we can read his name tag. His name is Karl.
“Don’t shoot me. Take whatever you want, although I wouldn’t suggest anything in the snake department. They require proper handling.” Karl’s knees are shaking, and his voice is all trembly.
“What are you talking about?” London says, still pointing the gun.
“You’re robbing me, right?” The python ripples and wraps itself tighter around Karl’s midsection. He runs his hand over the snake’s scaly body, petting it. “It’s okay, Penelope. I won’t let them hurt you.”
“Penelope?” I ask. Who in the hell names a snake Penelope?
Penelope raises her head when I say her name. She moves her head toward me as if in greeting.
“She likes you. She doesn’t like many people,” Karl says.
“Keep that snake away from her,” London says as she inches closer.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I had no idea you were so gallant,” I say, genuinely moved.
Suddenly, Penelope darts forward. She opens her mouth and swallows my hand in one big gulp.
I freak out. My hand is inside a python’s mouth! It feels wet and squishy in there. I take several deep breaths so that I won’t vomit. Now would not be a good time to pass out.
I feel Penelope’s muscles sucking my arm into her mouth and down her throat. “I thought you said she likes me,” I croak.
“She does, but that won’t stop her from eating you. You guys interrupted her feeding time,” Karl says. He tries to pull the snake back, but my hand goes with it. He jiggles her some, but she won’t let go of my arm.
“No matter what, do not scream,” Karl says softly.
I close my eyes and scream inside my head. London tries to talk me down. “I’d listen to what he says if you don’t want to become Penelope’s dinner.”
“You’re not helping,” I say through gritted teeth. I press my lips together to keep in my panicked primordial scream. Penelope keeps swallowing her way up my arm.
London says casually, “Karl, I’m going to have to shoot the snake if you don’t get her to give Jamie’s arm back.”
“No, please don’t. Penelope’s not a killer. She’s just hungry. I’ll go get her dinner. We’ll lure her off. I don’t think she’s really into arm meat.”
“Thank god!” I say as more of my arm is disappearing down her throat. Now I know how Jonah must have felt. Only he got swallowed by a whale.
Karl gently puts Penelope on the floor and rushes off.
“What if he doesn’t come back?” I ask, imagining him going out the back door. I hope he loves Penelope as much as he says.
“I’ll shoot her right through the midsection and then we’ll go to the hospital to get your arm extracted.”
“You’re so practical,” I say.
“Hey, it’s all about you right now.”
“I shouldn’t have eaten that alligator-on-a-stick. It’s bad karma.”
“An alligator is not a snake.”
“A reptile is a reptile. I ate one of her own. She probably smells it on me.”
We hear the worst sound ever—the back door slamming shut. The second worst sound is Penelope choking on my bicep.
“What are we going to do?” I ask.
“The choking could be a good thing,” London says.
“And why is that?” I ask.
“She won’t be able to eat your head.”
“That’s not making me feel any better.”
“I really don’t want to shoot her.”
“I don’t think we have a lot of options here.”
“We need to get you to the hospital. If Penelope expires of natural causes all the better. It’s on her then.”
Penelope is draped across the floor. “What am I supposed to do with…” I point, “the rest of her.”
“I’ll carry her.”
I walk out the front door. London carries the back end of Penelope behind me. It’s like I’m a queen and she’s carrying my train.
We get to the car and London opens the passenger door for me. I get in and London drapes the rest of Penelope over the seat. The tension on my arm seems to be letting up. “I think she’s suffocating.” Now, I’m feeling bad. I remind myself that my arm was just minding its own business and Penelope, of her own volition, tried to eat it.
London puts the cherry on the roof of the car and whips out of the parking lot. All the while, I feel Penelope dying. Her body goes limp, but my arm still remains in her grip. “I think we lost her.”
I feel sad. I ate an alligator and I killed a snake.
“It’s her own fault. She shouldn’t have swallowed your arm. You’re the victim here. Remember that,” London says, taking a corner without slowing down.
By the time we pull up at the emergency entrance, we have a dead snake. I swipe away a tear.
London looks over at me. “Don’t cry.”
“I never meant to kill her.”
“I know,” she says and pats the shoulder that doesn’t have the snake attached. “But all we can do now is deal with you.”
I know she’s trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working. I’m an alligator-eating snake-killer.
London opens the door and helps me and dead Penelope out of the car. Without thinking, I dejectedly drag Penelope on the ground behind me. London tries to pick up her back end but I’m in between the automatic doors and Penelope gets stuck in the door. London pulls at the door and finally manages to get all three of us into the waiting room.
In hindsight, we should’ve warned the hospital staff and the patients that we were bringing in a giant snake. There was really no way they could’ve known it was dead.
Instead, it was instantaneous pandemonium. Everyone shrieked, ran, hobbled, and wheeled out of the emergency room. The place was cleared in a matter of seconds.
A doctor hurries out of the double doors apparently concerned about the stampede from the waiting room. He’s a young man with a beard and a ponytail. He’s dressed in green scrubs. He looks at me, raises both eyebrows, and whistles between his teeth. “Whoa. Can’t say I’ve ever seen that before.” He comes over to inspect. “A python.” He cocks his head to one side. “Is it dead?”
“I think so,” I say. “Can you get her off me?”
A nurse comes out of the double doors, looks at me, screams, and runs back inside.
“We’re going to have to work around the fear factor,” the doctor says. “What were you doing when this happened?”
“Minding my own damn business,” I say, trying not to sound petulant.
“Okay, let’s get you back to a room and see what’s to be done,” he says.
I look at his name tag. Roy.
London says, “Lakeland PD. I’m coming with.”
“Not a problem. Let me give the staff a heads up before we go back. You know, to avoid any further panic.”
“Good idea,” London says.
Dr. Roy disappears back through the doors.
“I think I’m grief-stricken,” I say to London.
“Let it go. Take deep breaths and try not to think about it. Afterwards, we’ll find you a support group for people who have killed snakes by accidently suffocating t
hem with their arm,” London says. She goes to put an arm around my shoulders but thinks better of it.
“See, I’m tainted. You can’t even touch me.”
London rolls her eyes. Dr. Roy reappears and leads us past the nurse’s station. All the nurses are huddled against the back wall as far as they can get from me and the dead snake I’m dragging.
“It’s all cool ladies. The snake is dead.” Dr. Roy picks up the trailing snake tail and gives it a good shake in their direction. “See,” he says. Three nurses scream and run down the hall toward the exit sign.
“You better get us in a room fast before the entire hospital evacuates,” London suggests.
“Right,” Dr. Roy says. He puts us in the first empty cubicle he can find. He draws the curtain and scoots the snake’s tail under the curtain with the toe of his shoe. The tail pops back out. He toes it again. It pops back out. Obviously, the space is way too small for me, London, Dr. Roy, and a giant python. “We should get you a room,” he says.
We exit the cubicle. He walks ahead of us making sure all the curtains are pulled so the other patients won’t see the snake. “Here,” he says and puts us in a room with a door. He accidentally shuts the door on the snake’s tail. “I just can’t get used to how long he is.”
“It’s a she,” I say. “Her name is, I mean was, Penelope.” I sniff again.
“How long have you had her?” Dr. Roy asks.
“About forty-five minutes and it’s not her snake. She was attacked,” London says.
“Penelope didn’t mean to do it,” I say. “It was just her snake instincts. Plus, she was hungry.”
“For crissakes, can you get her arm back anytime soon?” London asks.
“Hmm…” Dr. Roy says several times while he walks around the snake, looking it over. “Dang, this thing is enormous.”
“That we have ascertained,” London says.
Dr. Roy taps his chin with his forefinger. “Hold on, I’ll be right back,” he says and dashes out of the room.
I sit on the exam table and London brings over a chair to drape the rest of Penelope over it. This helps because my arm is starting to hurt from her weight pulling me down.
“You doing okay?” London asks.
“Yeah,” I say dejectedly. “I’m really sorry about this. It was not professional of me.”
“It could happen to anyone,” London says, trying really hard not to laugh.
I look down at the snake. I chuckle. “It will make one hell of a story.”
“That it will. Especially if you survive.”
My eyes fly open. “I will, won’t I? No one has ever died by having an arm swallowed by a python, have they?”
“I don’t know,” London says. “Murder by python is a little outside my realm of experience.”
“What if… Never mind.”
“No, go ahead,” she says. “What if, what?”
“You know how Spiderman became Spiderman because of a spider bite?”
“Yeah. You’re worried you’ll become Snakewoman?”
I nod.
London laughs. “I don’t think we need to worry about that.”
“Why not?”
“Because we live in a place called reality. Not in a place called Marvel comics.”
Our conversation is interrupted when another doctor comes in with Dr. Roy. The new doctor is all nerd, right down to the pocket protector and oversized black eyeglasses. He examines Penelope and takes out a small measuring tape. He measures Penelope from her nose to the tip of her tail. “Ten feet four inches. They can grow up to 23 feet and weigh up to 200 pounds. I think this is an adolescent snake. Amazing.” He walks around Penelope, studying her. “She’s a beautiful specimen.”
“That’s great. You can have her after you return my arm,” I say.
“Really?” he asks excitedly, rubbing his palms together excitedly. “I thought you’d like to keep her.” The nerd’s name tag name reads Archibald.
“No, thanks. We’ve had our time together. Now it’s time to pass her on. To you,” I add.
“I’m a taxidermist in my spare time. She’ll be a wonderful addition to my collection.”
Dr. Roy nods. “I knew you’d be the right man for the job.”
We wait while Archibald assembles his instruments.
“I’m pretty sure we can cut her off with this.” He holds up a very large scalpel that looks more like a machete than a medical implement. “The trick will be to not cut your arm while I remove the snake.” He cocks his head. Then his face lights up. “I’ll need approximately…” he takes out the measuring tape, measures the snake again, then says, “Twenty tongue depressors.”
“I’m on it,” Dr. Roy says. He rummages through the cabinet and comes up with five. “I’ll be right back.” He races from the room. Dr. Archibald calls out after him, “And a lot of adhesive tape.”
Dr. Archibald studies me. “I think we should give you something, you know, to take the nip off.”
“Like a shot of morphine?” I ask. I’m not one for needles, but in this case, I think I’ll make an exception.
“More like Demerol,” he says, opening a cabinet and preparing my cocktail. I look away as he sticks me with the magical I-don’t-care drug.
In less than a minute, I’m loopy and completely unconcerned with the dead python attached to my arm.
“What’s with all the tongue depressors?” London asks Archibald. I’m really glad she’s my health care liaison because I’m no longer in any shape to ask questions.
“I’m going to make a wooden barrier so when I cut the snake, I don’t cut her,” he says.
Dr. Roy returns with a huge bouquet of tongue depressors, several rolls of white adhesive tape, and an older woman. Dr. Roy introduces her as Mabel the floor supervisor. She looks me over, rubs the hair on her chinny-chin-chin, and says, “Hunh, can’t say I’ve ever seen this.”
“Isn’t it awesome?” Dr. Roy says.
“Unusual. How’re you doing?” she asks me.
I shrug. “I don’t really care.”
“Listen you two,” she says, aiming her hairy chin at the doctors, “I want this thing out of here as quickly and as discreetly as possible. Put it on a gurney, cover it with a sheet and get rid of it. I emphasize the word discreetly. No taking it around and showing your friends. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they reply in unison. She exits the room.
“You mind if I video this?” Dr. Roy asks.
I say sure. Because Demerol.
Dr. Roy holds up his phone and I smile for the camera.
Archibald gets busy taping together the longest tongue depressor ever made. When he’s done, he looks at me. “Ready?” he asks, indicating that he’s going to stick the tongue depressor down Penelope’s throat.
I can feel the smooth wood as it makes a barrier between my arm and the snake. It tickles. I giggle.
“Tell me when it reaches your fingertips,” Archibald says.
The world’s longest tongue depressor finally tickles my fingertips. “You’re there,” I tell him.
Archibald pulls out the machete and studies me. “If you’re squeamish, you might want to turn away. It’s not going to be pretty.”
I do as instructed initially, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I take a peek. Just for the record, looking at the inside of a python while it’s being peeled away from your arm is not a wise idea. Luckily, London has the trash can up and in place. I turn and projectile vomit straight into it.
I can tell you another life lesson, do not eat alligator-on-a-stick if you plan on throwing up.
London puts the can down, using her best poker face so as not to make me feel worse than I do already. “Sorry,” I mutter.
“Not a problem. Notice, I’m not watching either.”
“Good call.”
Finally, I can feel my arm again. Penelope is no longer holding it hostage. The two doctors are coiling her up like a firehose. Dr. Roy gets a gurney and they uncerem
oniously heave her up and onto it.
“I’m sorry, Penelope, I didn’t mean for it to end this way,” I say.
“You’re good to go,” Dr. Roy says. “I’d clean up a bit before you leave.”
I look down at my arm. It’s covered in what looks like alien placenta. I dry heave.
“I’ve got an extra shirt in my car. I’ll go get it,” London says.
“I’ll help you get cleaned up,” Dr. Roy says magnanimously.
“Thank you.”
Dr. Archibald is moving the gurney to the door. “Do not leave without me. I want to be there when you show Josh. All he’s ever extracted is a gerbil,” he looks over at me, “from someplace it shouldn’t be.”
“I thought Mabel told you to discreetly dispose of Penelope,” I say. My head spins a little. Dr. Roy comes over and props me us. He hands me a wad of wet paper towels.
“Yeah, but this is too good,” Dr. Roy says.
Yes, it is, I think, especially when the rest of the world sees the YouTube video of Snakewoman—complete with goo and vomit. Life lesson: do not agree to be photographed or filmed doing anything unusual while under the influence of drugs. You’ll soon regret it. I guarantee it.
Chapter Seven
London drops me off at home because I am not in any shape to drive. “You sure you’re going to be all right?” she asks.
“I think so. Sorry about messing up,” I say as she helps me out of the car. I hug my arm to my side.
“Put some ice on your arm and take it easy,” London says. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m going to check out a few more pet stores and see what I can find.”
“That’s great. I’d offer to come with except I’m never, under any circumstances, going anywhere near a pet store for the rest of my life. I don’t care how cute the puppies and kittens in the window are.”
For Butter or Worse Page 9
