Shooting a Snake on a Sunday Morning
This is a true story... “Stephen! Stephen! Wake up!” I woke up and saw my mother standing over me with a shotgun in one hand and a pistol in the other. It was the morning after my cousin Amy’s wedding, a traditional Catholic affair with a reception befitting the Italian-American heritage of the groom’s family. So as you can imagine, I looked, smelled, and felt my best as my mother loomed over me with a wild expression in her eyes and a gun in each hand. “Huh?...Whatsit?…what the hey…?” “There’s a snake in the barn!” I had spent the night at her house after the wedding. “You’ve gotta do something! It’s eating my chickens!” <….chickens….Jesus….God my head hurts….did she say a snake?....> “Alright alright gimme a minute grmblgrmblgrmbl”. Mom kept talking as I dragged on some jeans (Where the hell are my shoes?) and quickly dusted cobwebs. I have little in this world but I would have traded every bit of it at that m...