Norm did not consider himself a snake hunter. He billed himself as a pest eradicator, but for whatever reason his specialty had evolved to be a snake hunter. Rattlesnakes, cotton mouths, copperheads and any other slithering menace considered a threat to man.
So far he could count a half-dozen solid bites with numerous near miss experiences. The knowledge of whether too many bites built resistance or toxicity was only anecdotal to him, but he expected the longer he stayed in the business the more factual his experience would prove.
“So you can get them all?” his newest customer asked.
“I should. The rate is $125 per.”
“I will gladly pay it. My movie cannot continue until you clear the set. It is costing my many thousands per day.”
Norm nodded knowingly, with the understanding of how some people could not function arounf the slithering pay checks.
I wrote this with Harrison Ford in mind. Bothe his character, Indiana Jones and he himself were afraid of snakes. In Raiders of the Lost ark if you pay attention you can see the Plexiglas divider between all the snakes and Indy in one scene.
It was never pretty when the penguins found the alcohol. Keeping things black & white was an unwritten rule on the continent of Antarctica. But when Bart and Arnie had their “Breaking Amish” adventure they experienced colors for the first time. All kinds of colors presented themselves immediately.
“What’s that? Arnie asked.
“How should I know, but I am trading in my boring black top for it,” Bart said.
“I don’t think the elders will take to that so well,” Arnie declared.
“As long as we don’t wear them on festival nights they’ll never know!”
Pete licked his lips as his mind raced considering his grand scheme. He had battled with his next door neighbor, Watson for years, each of them escalating their pranks. It was time to go full on over the top and Pete saw his chance in the form of the huge alien.
“Seriously Pete?” Jennifer, his wife asked.
“Yes Jen. You know how he is always going on about aliens coming to get him. Two of these in his yard on Halloween night will be priceless.”
Two months later the stage was set as Pete laid out an elaborate scene with the two “aliens” prominently featured.
He knew Watson would not get home from his job in Siler City until just after dark. He watched with surging enthusiasm as Watson’s car rolled into view. The car stopped in the street, his neighbor slowly exiting to determine what he saw.
“No, you promised I could stay five more years! I won’t go, no matter how much you torture me!” Watson screamed.
“It depends on how bad you want my phone number. You see I took one green leaf and wrote my cell phone number on it. Then I hid it in this grove somewhere. If you find it you can get your date with me. If you aren’t interested then it will be there for whoever will look.”
Jack hated games, but he really liked Jillian. The blonde hair and blue eyes with the intoxicating laugh was just something he couldn’t get off his mind. Not that he wanted to either.
“I think I have made it very clear how I feel about you,” Jack said. “Is this necessary?”
“No, it isn’t necessary. But it could be fun,” Jillian replied.
Jack’s expression betrayed his feelings about this adventure.
“You don’t want to play?”
“It’s the only way?” Jack asked.
Jillian cocked her head as she offered a playful smile.
Gaambatuu’s eyes were wide as he approached the ferry terminal. Wider even, if possible, than when they boarded the wide body jet in his home country of Botswana for his first international trip. It was something Charlie wanted to do for his friend he’d met during his mission trip to Africa the year before.
Gaambatuu shook his head as the ferry filled.
“Amazing?” Charlie asked.
“Wondrous. You pay so little for so much. I could move my entire village and livestock on this. But it would cost many times more.
“We are privileged.”
True, my friend.”
I was struck in my first “real” international mission trip in 2012 to Belize how bog a difference there is in our cultures. The things we take for granted are luxuries or simply unheard of for the average person. Many people here me talk about going to Belize and immediately entertain the thoughts of the tourist and luxury parts of the country, but I have only been to that part once in three trips, and only for about two hours counting our lunch in a restaurant.
None of the roughly five thousand students who crossed the Cramer University campus every day gave much thought to why the tan bird was installed atop the student center. There was a plaque, but it was old and nothing of interest to anyone of the twenty-first century. In truth the bird had become the target of a great competition that came around every spring.
The grounds crew at Cramer got really steamed when the tradition began nearly three decades earlier, because trying to get the paint removed from the homemade catapults was no easy task. But as with all things knowledge and preparation provided a way to lessen the lasting impact.
Also, even though he made a yearly declaration the practice was forbidden, the university president had come to enjoy the spectacle and had increased the minimum distance this year to challenge the partakers of the hijinks. The engineering students felt equal to the task as their prototype testing proved they could reach their target.
But there was an unknown player in the mix this year. Known simply as the Eagle Squadron their boast was that they could hit the bird on no less than seven of ten attempts.
Cindy looked at her waterproof digital watch. Liam always took a swim between 11:30 and midnight. She turned to the sky, wishing there was more moonlight. This was an audacious stunt, even for her. All the sky-diving, bungee jumping, rapids-riding craziness would be topped if this stunt played out.
It was a Hail Mary, but nothing else pulled Liam’s attention her way. She tried not to spend too much time thinking about what could go wrong. She gulped in one last breath when she saw Liam below.
From the fourth floor roof to the pool she flew, creating a huge splash.