Bwahahaha....OMFG, this one brings back many memories for me.
Memory #1. Age 10, growing up in East Texas, along the Arkansas border, grandpa and me with some cousins on the river, Cotton mouths dropping outta the trees and swimming towards us.....nasty little buggers!
Up on shore Grandpa whacks one on the neck to stun it, then uses a shovel to cut off it's head. My cousin James picks up the head to show off, and the little bugger reflex spasmed and bit his silly little ass...."Hiedi, heidi ho, it's off to the hospital we go"...lol
Memory #2 Age 14 Growing up in Southern California, catching snakes for "Puppy World"
for use for in-store sales or as anti-venom lab sales.
We'd figured out pretty quick that if ya threw plywood out in the canyons, the mice would nest underneath on one side, and the snakes would nest on the other....fast food if ya will.
Wayne didn't ever really figue out his snakes, and one day he picks up a rattler, "Hey look, it's a gopher snake" he says. Wrong,...and "Hiedi, heidi ho, it's off to the hospital we go"...lol
Memory #3 Age 17 Still in So. Cal., out in the desert with some pals. Bad chilli or sumpin', and I'm off to the nearest arroyyo with a roll of "handi-wipes" in hand.
Doing my duty, communing with nature and all, and suddenly I hear gravel moving and a loud hiss...I look around and there's this Gila Monster making it's way down the hill, mouth open, heading straight for my bare ass!
Well I'm steppin' and fetchin', poopin' and dancing, pulling my pants up all the while pulling out my "High Standard" OMFG!
It took me about 7 or 8 shots just to hit him, and a few more to finish the job. Poor little bugger rolled over and "croaked" at me. His last vision? Me standing there, pants around my ankles, firearm in one hand, handi-wipes in the other, and my "bidness" flapping in the wind....
My pals still give me a ration for killing a protected species just to protect my own "ass"
Mel
"Buy Quality and Only Cry Once"
