How are you? I am fine.
Now down to business. This is a cease and desist letter.
I’m sorry that it’s come to this, but you leave me no other choice.
I yet again must insist that you stop being snakes. I understand that snakes have made great strides in the fields of mice eating and horror movie atmosphere. But that does not excuse your obvious blood-thirsty nature.
Only today, I found myself being chased out of the park by a garter snake that clearly had a taste for human flesh.
Granted, the garter snake did not chase me in the sense of coming near me at all. But it was there on the public path, refusing to let me feel safe passing, or feel safe staying anywhere in the park. Or even anywhere in the outdoors due to the snake’s threats of physical violence. I was forced to run flailing and screaming away.
So I must insist that you evolve immediately into something else. Preferably something fluffy. There is a shortage of panda bears. Wouldn’t you rather be panda bears?
If you ignore this request, I guarantee that I will continue to be terrified of you.
You’ve been warned.
Anonymous (I’m afraid the snakes will egg my house)
I don’t like snakes.
The best place I ever lived was Hawaii. They don’t have snakes in Hawaii. Not only that: they have an entire agency whose job it is to make sure there aren’t snakes in Hawaii. That agency put public service announcements on TV that said “Remember to keep your eyes open for snakes and if you see one, call us right away.”
These commercials touched me. I felt like I had been deputized by the Anti-Snake Department and I took that responsibility very seriously. When I would go out with friends, and we were walking outside, I would scour the ground looking for snakes. I was always extra vigilant around known snake hang-outs: in apple trees, on airplanes, and hanging around Disney villains.
Thankfully I never saw a snake. But I felt so much better knowing I was prepared if I did.
Here’s what I figured would happen if I had ever found a snake:
The Anti-Snake Department was #1 on my speed dial. I would call them and say, “THIS IS NOT A DRILL!” Their high-tech GPS detection devices would lock into my location. Within moments, black helicopters would fill the sky above us.
Out of the black helicopters would jump agents in their specially designed anti-snake suits that protect against both snake bites and acid venom spit (because I can’t remember if I saw that in a movie or a documentary about snakes). Of course, the agents would have an extra suit in my size. They have to keep their Deputy Snake Hunter Agents safe, too.
Now being seasoned professionals, they’d have sent an appropriate number of agents to handle the threat. I’d say about 100 agents per snake seen, with more waiting at the base to be deployed if needed.
Then they would dispose of the snake using the only proven 100% effective snake-disposal technique. It’s a 5 step process:
- First you decapitate the snake. That’s why the agents would be equipped with chain saws.
- Then you shoot the snake. All 100 agents would do this, just to be sure they really hit it.
- Then you use explosives to blow the snake pieces up.
- Then you light the remains on fire.
- Then you carefully gather all of the ashes, put them in a rocket, and send that rocket off to a distant corner of space.
That seems like the most logical approach to me anyway.
I still have that number in my phone even though I haven’t lived in Hawaii for years. I’m hoping that the Anti-Snake Department’s “No agent left behind” policy applies to deputies, too.