Snakes in The Belfry

written by Fletcher “Butchwax” Ferguson



It’s a well known fact that I’m an avid outdoorsman. Consequently, I have had my fair share of encounters with all creatures great and slithery. The possibility of running into an unexpected creature or wild thing carries with it a degree of adrenaline rushing anticipation. It keeps you coming back to the woods and the streams. On many occasion I have come face to face with a wild species. However, not all these episodes have occurred in the country.

Many years ago when my boys were still quite young, my wife and I were living the typical hectic life of two working parents. With a toddler of just over three and an infant in diapers, it took super human skills and split second timing to ready the troops, get a shower a piece, dress and eat in order to get to work on time. My wife gave the assignments out and had it timed to a gnats ass. About the only time I had to myself was after the wife had hit the shower, before the kid’s feet hit the floor or the baby awakened with a diaper full of a big wad of fresh steaming god awful smelling shit. That was the tiny fragment of time I had to enjoy a cup and stand looking out the front window scratching my hole laden, underwear covered ass. The fleeting moment was the most valuable few minutes of the entire day.

On this one occasion the five minutes of ass scratching bliss was interrupted by the arrival of the water meter maid. The frail looking, very petite black as coal woman pulled up and parked at the end of my driveway. Smartly dressed in her uniform, she was a mere wisp of a woman. It was just barely starting to lighten up. In November in this part of the country, the sun doesn’t show itself until well after seven a.m. I stood behind our large front picture window drinking my first cup, concealed by a veil of darkness the night was still clinging to. I was able to watch the meter maid go about her early morning chores from a position of anonymity that the low light afforded me. I could not help but notice that there had been a beautiful dusting of snow that night which had delicately placed puffy little clouds of snow resting in and on the still somewhat green plants and grass.

After the meter maid had been next door she entered our yard. The water meter was located in a vertically positioned plate covered twelve inch pipe nestled under the shrubs that grew across the front of our yard. A threaded nut had been tightened securing the hatch’s heavy plate. The meter was actually located inside the pipe three feet or so below ground level to protect it from freezing. The meter housing was both hidden by my hedges and covered by the light snow. The rookie first day on the job meter maid, failed to locate the meter in the dim light and returned to her truck to retrieve a flash light.

Once she found the meter she used a long handled wrench to loosen the nut that held the cover plate tight. This effort alone was not adequate for her to read the meter as the plate was frozen fast in place. Try as she would the weak woman could not displace the plate. This was the best early morning entertainment I had had in eons. The nearly helpless women failed over and over to get the plate off. Frustrated, she tried everything, finally undaunted she went to her knees, took the name brand flash light and banged it on the plate breaking winters frozen grip. She then stuck the flash light under her chin, still on her knees and removed the plate thus enabling her to see the water meter. Well, she promptly dropped the flash light down the deep pipe opening.

By now my laughter had awakened my three year old son who was standing by his daddy’s side rubbing one eye and pulling on the edge of my t-shirt asking to see what I was laughing at. There’s nothing like sharing a moment with your son. Picking him up, holding him close, feeling his little heart beat against my chest as he joyously laughed at what he didn’t fully comprehend, is still an active memory. He just laughed with an unfettered exuberance. As the meter maid struggled to reach her flash light, she had to use the full length of her little arms to reach the flash light, forcing her to lay on her side in the wet snow to reach it. The show caused my young son to laugh with even more earnest, infecting my funny bone until we were both in tears with debilitating side splitting laughter.

That’s when the now wet from the snow meter maid was seen scooting rapidly on her rear, stiff legged and flaying her arms wildly. She was ineffectively trying to scramble away from the meter. She was retreating via a technique of lifting one cheek and pushing off with her hand then repeating the action as fast as her wet nearly catatonic limbs would allow. The flash light she had pulled from the hole was in realty, a fist full of garter snakes The snakes having been haplessly cast in to the snow, were trying in slow motion to seek the nearest source of heat. That happened to be the meter maid. As the cold effected the snow bound snakes, they slowly moved towards the meter maid. We went into a complete state of delirium with our laughter. She could not escaped the half dozen snakes that were desperately pursuing her, seeking the lifesaving heat the meter maid's body offered.

It dawned on me that the situation was getting serious so I put on some gym shorts and a pair of slippers. As I went to the rescue, my three year old was fast on my heels with a mission of his own design. The woman was completely catatonic. Rigid with fear she could not and would not breathe. As I picked her up out of the snow, it was evident she had pissed herself. I shook the woman enough to have gotten her to now focus on me. She looked at me with petrified bulging eyes, still not breathing. The only recourse was to slap the girl to get her to breathe.

When the slap came so came an ear drum busting scream that penetrated the entire neighborhood and got the attention of the young buck that had just moved in across the street. He came charging across the street. The rescue attempt failed as he hit the snow after hurdling my hedges. As he slid into my gas yard light pole he racked himself, resulting in a debilitating painful injury. He was wreathing in pain, as he had not only busted his balls but had broken his pubis bone. Knocking the glass out of the yard light in turn. He hit it hard, Ouch!

I put the still rigid, wet and cold meter maid in our porch swing. While my new neighbor rolled around in the snow holding his balls, groaning a most pitiful sound, I wrapped up the stiff meter maid in a old comforter. I was forced to call an ambulance, as she had slipped into shock. My neighbor, a nice guy it turned out, also required medical attention resulting in a second ambulance. The water company came and took the truck. The guys that came to get the truck not only appreciated the phone call but fully enjoyed the shear beauty of the humorous calamity. A story I’m sure was repeated to a wide collection of blue collar workers at bars and taverns for months to come.

Once the truck and ambulances had left, my attention went back to my three year old whom had successfully picked up and stored in our dry fish aquarium a half dozen of the now fully warm garter snakes. Several of which had escaped in the house with out my knowledge. My son was busy forcing the remaining snakes to stay in the aquarium when I found him. “Can we keep them? Can we keep them? Daddy please can we keep them?” That’s when the second scream of the morning came. A scream that was not affected by cold or shock. It was nothing more than a determined women making it known to her husband that there was a snake in her bathroom. This was the kind of scream that sent fear rapidly in to my courageous soul. It was flight fear that I felt. I was now the suddenly petrified catatonic recipient of the curse the snakes had brought that morning.

The blue eyed blond tornado was oblivious to the morning’s events, and was not especially curious as to where the snake had come from. She was all to focused on her time sensitive routine and just wanted the damn thing out of her bathroom. As I collected the now carpet lint covered snake she calmly ask me as she applied her eye shadow, if the boys were close to being ready. I sheepishly said no and before I could explain--Son-of-a-bing-son-of-a-bang. I was dead meat. She was completely unsympathetic to any thing that had happened. All she was concerned with was chewing my ass because we were all going to be late.

At noon that day the story had reached a local psychiatrist’s radio talk show which my wife listened to during her lunch religiously. She heard the story thought it was funny and called me to tell me about it.
“Honey, I heard the funniest thing on the radio today at lunch.”