She had always been fascinated by snakes and was very excited when she brought home her very own. The pet store had provided the right terrarium and counseled her on how to keep him. She called him “Mr. Snakey”.
When she was alone with him, she baby-talked him. “Ain’t that right, Mr. Snakey?”, she’d ask in a childish voice and Mr. Snakey would rapidly stick his tongue out in response. Like he was licking his lips. He wasn’t. He didn’t have lips.
Once a month, she’d go to the pet store and get “Mr. Snakey’s take-out”, as she liked to called it. Sometimes a little mouse, sometimes a frog. Sometimes a hamster. She would put the small animal in Mr. Snakey’s terrarium and watch with fascination as he quickly grabbed the prey and slowly wrapped himself around it until it suffocated. Then came the thrill of the swallowing. The hinges of his jaws would come off and his mouth would open entirely while he slowly – but surely – swallowed his meal.
After a meal, he would be very quiet the next couple of days, digesting. The bump on his middle would slowly get smaller until he was back to his slender self and ready to come lie in her sofa with her, while she watched reruns of The Golden Girls. His favorite was Sophia. Hers was Blanche.
The years passed and Mr. Snakey soon grew up to be a big boy. They loved each other. He was more than a pet, he was a true friend! Always ready to listen to her troubles and ease her mind with his serious button-eyes and his slow, calm, gliding movements.
She was loosely seeing a guy named “Mike” – he didn’t like “any amphibia – AT ALL”, so they always fucked at his place. She kind of liked Mike but since Mike didn’t like Snakey, she knew they would never be more than fuck-buddies. It wasn’t even a sacrifice.
A steady diet and lots of love and attention soon made Snakey an impressive snake. She couldn’t carry him around any more, he was 6 feet of raw muscle. He outgrew his terrarium and took the dark corner of her living room as his instead. Sometimes he’d lay in the couch and watch TV with her. His favorite show was American Idol. They’d critique and discuss each performance. He’d agree silently with a sliver of his tongue.
One day, she woke up to find Mr. Snakey in bed with her. His body was stretched out next to her and he was kind of shivering. “Whatcha doin’ Mr. Snakey?” she asked, her baby-voice rusty with sleep. He didn’t answer. She lovingly pushed him out of the bed and went back to sleep, puzzled.
A couple of nights later, the same thing happened. She woke up to find Mr. Snakey in bed with her, all stretched out and shivering. Again, she pushed him out of bed. This time she didn’t fall a sleep for a long time.
Next day, she went to the pet store to ask about Mr. Snakey’s odd behaviour. Mr. Hill, the pet store owner, looked bleakly at her when he explained:
“He is measuring you”.
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That’s what one gets for playing with snakes.