Snakes, Vacations and Beatings

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

One night last week I walked out the back door and stepped on a rather large Copperhead. As you can imagine I was somewhat upset. I have told that snake at least a dozen times he is not allowed in the yard. Poisonous snakes in the yard must be treated delicately. I have carried him to the fence, spanked him and thrown him over at least six times. The delicate part is forgetting to tell my bride Management. There is something about a woman shouting “Kill it, kill it!” that makes me uncomfortable. The snake, Management and I are all happier if she doesn’t know it is around.

My rules are simple. Black Rat Snakes, King Snakes, Green Snakes, Corn Snakes, and their relatives are welcome. Northern Water Snakes are not welcome in the pond because of their attitudes and Copperheads are not welcome in the yard. This is not a case of species-ism. I apply the same rule to all animals including people. If you have an attitude or are armed and dangerous and are a threat to me and mine, you are not welcome.

I spanked the Copperhead and threw him over the fence again. If he shows up one more time I am going to relocate him. It’s getting harder and harder to find places to turn snakes loose that won’t upset someone. I checked my list of folks who annoy me and none of them rate high enough on the list for me to dump a Copperhead in their yard. I may have to resort to capital punishment, which seems severe for trespassing but on the other hand I have repeatedly warned him. If he forces me to take such a severe step I intend to call it relocating him to snake heaven or relocating him to the inside of a possum, King Snake or a buzzard.

The next day Management interrupted my coffee to sweetly request that I remove a nice black Rat Snake that was taking a nap on one of the porch rafters. My rules and Management’s rules are different. I tossed her (the snake, not Management) over the fence with the admonition that she either stays on that side or that she finds better places to hide when she is on our side. 

Management and I decided to make up for the three days of our last vacation that we spent with food poisoning by spending last weekend at the beach. We planned on leaving Friday morning. While I was tying up my loose ends, Management was supposed to find us a cheap motel. As it happened, there weren’t a half a dozen rooms available at either of our favorite beaches and the cheapest one was $285.00 a night.

That works out to 20 cents a minute for a room. One of the cars I drive cost me less than $285.00. I can make another land payment for $285.00. I once bought a mobile home for less than $285.00. Besides, the only necessary ingredient for me to enjoy a vacation is Management. We decided to stay home, lock the gate, turn off the phones and spend the $285.00 on materials to finish the porch. We spent the weekend sitting on the unfinished deck drinking coffee, reading and screwing boards onto the deck.

Well, our vacation is over and we are back to our personal version of normal. The daughter just called to say she took Grand-brat for a check up. One of the forms she had to fill out was about me. Did your father beat you with a spoon, a belt, a spatula, a switch, a stick, a flyswatter… I assume she said, No, Yes, No, Yes, No, Yes.

The truth is I beat my children regularly. I beat them at checkers, I beat them at chess, I beat them at cards, and I beat them at Monopoly and so on. My theory was never let them win although I did handicap myself until they had a fair chance. I would point out bad moves but I never let them win. I didn’t believe in that silly false self-esteem stuff.

I had four checkers; they had twelve. When they could beat me three games in a row I got five checkers, then six and so on until I beat them three in a row, then I lost a checker.

Then the doctor asked my daughter if I had a drug problem. She said “Yes, he drug me outside and beat me.” It’s a good thing she is over 21 or I would be expecting another one of those knocks on the door.