As I was tending my garden of indigenous plants--a particularly virulent form of Virginia Creeper...more like Virginia Sprinter, and a bumper crop of weedus giantus--I bent down to pick up a piece of mottled plastic wrapper that I just knew one of the lazy farmhands had carelessly discarded...only to discover it was SNAKE SKIN. Yes, an actual SNAKE had gone all Incredible Hulk and flexed muscular snakey biceps with enough force to split its own personal skin, and worse, become a permanently larger Herpatological Hulk.
I was pondering the possibility of selling the skin to Tony Lama--the thing was big enough to make boots for a NBA forward--when I heard hissing coming towards me at an alarming rate of speed. I jumped high enough to pat Michael Jordan on the head, then screamed and whirled around to find Ralph coming up the hill for some corn; Muscovy ducks don't quack, they huff and hiss when excited or angry. He spread his wings, gave me a Rodney Dangerfield look of hurt incredulity--"What? I get no respect", and wheeled around and beat scaly feet.
I'm headed to the Tractor Supply Store pronto to buy snake traps and snake repellent--organic, of course.
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