How the hell did I get in this room?
It’s a shadowy space, with the only source of natural light filtering down from narrow windows ringing up top.Against the lower half of two walls sit impressively sized individual terrariums, each sporting heat lamps in one corner.
Good news, occupant of the largest terrarium isn’t immediately visible.Less good news, occupants of smaller, split terrarium, very visible.All twelve of them.
“You know anything about ball pythons?”
I don’t answer, as I’m too busy swallowing back a primal scream.
“Super docile.Love nothing better than to curl up in the palm of your hand.You know, hence the name.Wanna hold one?”
Furious shake of my head.
“You like snakes at all?”Bart peers at me intently.
I don’t care about employment or lodging anymore.Another furious shake of my head.
“No matter, you’ll do fine.”
Third shake of my head.
Bart continues as if he hadn’t seen: “Okay, so again, pretty simple.First rule of snakes, larger they are, easier the care and feeding.Marge over there only eats twice a month.Whereas these gorgeous little minions”—Bart bends down, gazes adoringly at the collection of curled and slithering shapes in mottled shades of light brown and deep black—“these little dudes will require some genuine tending, but nothing any person of basic competence can’t handle.”
“I’m not competent,” I attempt weakly.
“You got here, didn’t you?That’s competent enough.So: feeder crickets.”He’s off and running.How every three to five days I should be feeding live crickets to baby pythons.Always after dark.Wear the red headlamp.Use tweezer tongs to offer crickets first to snakes on the move.Ignore those curled up or in hide boxes.Hold cricket still till baby can pluck from tweezers (or I can rip legs off of crickets so they can’t hop away.What the fuck?).
Fetch new cricket, he continues breezily.Will know which snakes have eaten by noticeable bulge in their stomachs.Oh, and don’t worry about cricket escapees, impossible not to lose a few, hence the meadow-like ambiance throughout the rest of the house.
Once all babies have been fed, leave alone for next few days to digest their meal.When they become noticeably active again, time to eat.Oh, and refresh water and clean cage.Okay, now for Marge, a five-foot-long albino Burmese python, whose yellow head rests atop her massively coiled body.
Marge eats a medium-sized rat every two weeks.Will find them vacuum-sealed in the freezer.Cut open package, dump frozen rodent in mug of hot water.Warm to around a hundred degrees.Using larger tongs, remove now thawed rat from cup, slowly lower into terrarium, and wave gently in front of Marge to get her attention.She will snatch dinner from tongs, and just like that, be all set for the next few weeks.
See, easy peasy.Oh, don’t forget to change out the water that sits in the bottom of the terrarium in a giant stainless-steel water bowl.If I’m really squeamish, here’s a pair of welder’s gloves to use, but really, Marge’s a love.All snakes are loves.Just giant docile beauties with gorgeous markings and ill-deserved reputations.
At this point, Bart’s talking faster and faster with most sentences ending with an emphatic “Easy peasy!”as if he knows at any moment I’m going to run screaming from the room.
When Marge lifts her head to peer at me through the glass while flicking out her tongue, it doesn’t help.
“I can’t do this,” I finally gasp.“Nope.Not gonna happen.Gotta go.Now.Dear God.Where the hell is the door?”
Bart plants himself in front of me, grabs my shoulders.
“You got this,” he declares.“You are a strong, capable person.I have total faith you can feed salad to a lizard once a day, and some miscellaneous crickets and rodents to other reptiles twice a week.”
“You don’t even know me—”
“You’re wearing wrinkled clothes, traveling with a single suitcase, and calling for jobs that provide lodging.Clearly, you just got into town, and you need a place to stay.Given what I can judge by your appearance and already know about Tucson rents, you’re not affording anything in this market anytime soon.”
“I don’t like snakes.”
“Why?You ever touch one, hold one, been attacked by one?What you’re feeling is nothing but some overactive neurons firing away in your brain in response to a basic primal fear.”
“Exactly!”
“You don’t want to be ruled by fear, do you?”
“At the moment, doesn’t feel like I have much choice in the matter.”
