With my heart's rapid beat, I slowly opened the back door. I must have peered at that back yard for two minutes, making sure he had not come back. The only thing that separated me and my clothes line was the dew covered grass, not a snake in sight.
I knew I had to do it. With basket in hand, I put my feet in onto the concrete patio and closed the door behind me. If I saw him now, I'd have to jump onto the chain link fence and pray it would hold me off the ground.
My confidence grew and I was soon at my clothes line. One shirt after the other, I hung my laundry to dry. As the basket quickly emptied, I outstretched my arms to hang the last garment. With visions of "Pet Sematary" in my mind, only instead of a crazed rabid dog on the other side of the sheets, I imagined a king cobra with a large muscular outstretched neck ready to kill me at any minute, I quickly tried to finish.
As the last pin was clipped securely on the Alabama tee my husband wore yesterday, it happened. In less than a second the snake's fangs sunk into my foot's flesh and I felt my heart fall out of my chest. In the heat of the moment and pure reflex, my foot flew up in the air and slammed down on the ground and for a second, I was sure my toe was broken (again). However when I looked down, all I saw was a dirt covered toe with red peeking through the mud. My blood colored polish was barely visible through the soil but no snake could be seen. That wasn't a snake at all. It was a camel cricket. He'd decided to hop on my toe and had no idea how close he came to death this morning. Relieved my toe wasn't broken and that my heart continued to beat, I went inside and wondered how long I'd be suffering the snake aftermath.
