ACCOUNTANT BY DAY

Last night my boyfriend told me he ran over a snake while he was mowing the backyard during my trip to Maine. There is a two foot garden snake living in one of my overgrown weed beds that I named Travis, but he said it wasn’t the front yard snake that got killed. “What kind of snake was it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “A blacksnake,” he said.

“Snake murderer,” I said.

“I know,” he said.

“I didn’t mean that,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “I watched the snake coming toward me from across the yard, and it sailed straight into the bottom of the lawn mower and then I saw all the snake blood and pieces coming out the other side.”

“So it was more like this was nature’s way of keeping this snake from using up valuable resources that other snakes needed more,” I said.

Somewhere out there a smarter snake is still alive because it didn’t slither into the blades of the lawn mower.