It was several years ago that I discovered Bernard in one of the storeroom closets one evening.
He was a brazen, yellowish little corn snake with quite the territorial attitude, if you ask me.
Although it struck a nerve with me, I was willing to accept this little creature’s naivety, and allowed him to remain in a place that he most certainly did not belong.
In fact, you could say that he became a little pet.
I gave him the sustenance that he needed to survive, and even built a functioning habitat for him so that this trespassed space would now feel more like the home that he may or may not deserve.
Unfortunately, in hindsight, it quickly became the latter.
For what became an uninvited guest was now an uninvited pest!
Before too long. the habitat of which he eventually destroyed no longer sufficed.
Eventually, he made his way to other places of my domain until everything was turned entirely upside down. At my most disarray, I had but only one option available, and that was to get rid of the snake.
What’s most extraordinary, however, is that a snake can adapt to anything.
Not just the place they’ve insisted access to – but to the person it belongs to as well.
It took nearly an act of congress and a stay at Arcadia Medical to get Bernard out of here for good – no matter how many darn times I swept this place clean of his tracks – but now that this is behind me, am I just as adaptable as this creature to where I would allow for this to ever happen again?
I don’t think I have to ask that question. Our beloved censorship team could easily take the microphone and the stage on this one, regardless of where we stand on absolutely everything else, and give you the same exact answer.
Never trust a snake.
Because even if the moment is meant to simply be for the sake of battle, they’ll never truly leave until you’ve reached your wits end.
I wish I could say Bernard was the only snake that I’ve had the pleasure of saying hello and good day to – but I haven’t been that lucky, as you can see.
But just like you, Python, I’ve learned.
I’ve learned that the likes of you could never just be a pet – because your genetics have devious intentions. This makes all the more sense when you consider the company you crossed paths with. For as much as they’d likely would have done the same to you, the point is that you did it first.
I didn’t walk into Bernard’s space and rain chaos down upon it, regardless of whether or not he deserved it then or now.
And from that adaptation, snakes are not welcome here.
Snakes – like you.