“There is a snake in my house,” the woman said into the phone.
“Pardon?” the incredulous exterminator replied.
“There is a snake in my house,” she repeated, slower this time.
“What makes you think that?”
It had started as a rustling in the ceiling. It was soft, hard to hear. Actually, it was more like a low hum. Nearly indistinguishable from the white noise of kitchen appliances, except that it came and went as it pleased. Louder and quieter and louder and quieter and then not at all. It didn’t bother her. In fact, she barely noticed it in the moment, only retrospectively. Then, one night, she got up to go to the loo, and there it was; its smooth black head glistening in the lamp light, erect and gazing at her. She took a slow step back and quietly shut her bedroom door in its face. She nearly wet the bed that night because she couldn’t bear to go back out.
The woman explained this to the exterminator, except for the part about nearly wetting the bed. There was a grunt through the phone speaker, followed by a long pause.
“Huh,” he said (if that can be considered speech), finally.
“So when can you come?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“But why not?”
“This isn’t unusual, really,” he continued, “Had you had anything to drink?”
“Sorry?”
“Before you went to bed, have anything to drink?
“No.”
“Hmph,” he deliberated, “Still, not uncommon. For a woman your age, that is. If you see it again, try and practice some mindfulness techniques.”
By this point, the woman was baffled.
“Deep breathing,” he continued, “pay attention to your body, and just try to relax.”
“Um… Okay.”
“Thanks for calling. Best of luck!”
“But wait! Aren’t you going to come and–” A sharp chime to her eardrum indicated that the call had been disconnected.
That night, when the woman saw the snake again, she tried to take deep breaths and relax, even as it glided towards her, and the shuddering of her heart filled her body. The mindfulness techniques, though she tried them sincerely, did not help as the snake reared its black head back and lunged forward, colliding with her foot, and sinking its thin, whetted teeth into her warm flesh. After it had left its mark, the snake slinked away triumphantly. As we know, snakes do not have the capacity to smile, but the woman saw a glint in its eye and a curve of its lips which said otherwise. In that moment, she had the urge to leap forward and bite the smug creature back. To tear its wicked little head from its pathetic body with her mouth like a wild animal. But alas, she knew his flesh was cold and hard, and her teeth were blunt and ill-equipped. So instead, she pulled her shirt over her head and wrapped it tightly around her ankle, so tight it would cut off the circulation. She moved slowly and cautiously towards the bedside table where her phone was. She used the mindfulness techniques as she dialled triple zero to make her hand still enough to press the keys. The phone operator asked if she had tried taking Panadol. “You can take two capsules, you know!”
The woman replied curtly that no, she had not tried Panadol, given that she could not move.
“Isn’t there someone who could get it to you?” she asked sweetly.
“I live alone.”
“Oh.” The phone operator recoiled with suspicion.
The paramedics came and dawdled about the house like heavy bumble bees. They gave the woman a medicine which might heal the snake bite and might give her a rash and might make her have diarrhoea and, also, might make her want to die.
No snake was found.
When the woman described its appearance, they scratched their heads and declared never to have seen one like it. They gave her another medicine, just to be safe.
When the paramedics left, the woman felt sicker and lonelier than ever. She dragged her swollen, purple foot from the bed to the loo and back again. Again and again and again and again. The snake was in every rustle, every hum, every shadow. He was watching and waiting for the chance to finish her off.
The exterminator did eventually come. He brought with him a cage and some serious-looking metal devices. He scoured the house. The woman could see why he had become an exterminator. She knew that snakes had an aversion to noise, and the exterminator was all noise. His footfalls were heavy, he wheezed and coughed like a chain smoker, and grunted and sighed as he moved. He banged on walls, emptied out all the kitchen cupboards, the linen closet, and even the woman’s wardrobe. After all of her possessions were strewn across the floor and the house had been thoroughly stripped of its dignity, the exterminator said, “There is no snake here.” And charged her $400 for the trouble.
Despite the state of the house, the exterminator’s search had calmed the woman (his devices had looked serious). Perhaps, the snake really was gone. That night, for the first time since the snake’s rude appearance, she found herself absorbed by a deep, heavy sleep. It was not so heavy, though, that she could not feel the sudden weight of something creeping over her thigh. Before she had fully come to consciousness, she was tickled by it. It could have been the gentle caress of a lover, if it wasn’t for the lack of warmth. The woman’s eyes snapped open. The smooth black head, the beady eyes, the tight little mouth stared back, barely a few inches from her face. The woman didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe. Very, very slowly, she reached out to the bedside table and felt around for her phone.
“You’ve dialled triple zero. What’s your emergency?” A chipper, customer service voice answered.
“There is a snake on my chest,” the woman said while trying to stay as still as possible.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“A. Snake. On. My. Chest.”
“Hmm,” the phone operator pondered, “That’s unusual. A snake, you said?”
“Yes.”
“Have you tried taking it off?”
“No. Have to. Stay still.”
“Okay, do you have any idea what kind?” he inquired.
“No,” the woman growled.
“Just try and calm down.”
“Can’t calm down! Need help!” As much as she clenched her jaw, the woman could not stop a scalding tear from escaping her eye.
“Help will be on the way soon. Now, you’re sure it was a snake you saw?”
This was more than the woman could bear. The snake was moving closer, up onto her neck, and closing in on her windpipe. The snake began to fasten around her. Tighter, and tighter. As it pulled, its body kept growing longer until it was up over her chin, filling her mouth with its tough scales.
“I need a fucking ambulance!” the woman gasped. She tried to bite down, but as she expected, there was no penetrating that black armour, and her teeth crumbled from the impact.
“Please, Miss!” snapped the phone operator, “There is no need for that kind of tone!”
