a story from "It Ate My Sister"

by Mark Binder 

Episode 2 - "Snake in a Box"

Dad picks me up from school every Wednesday. It's great. We get to hang out together and not say much. He usually asks me how things are going, and I say, "Fine." Then I ask how he's doing and he says, "The usual." and then we go bowling. Or to the movies. Or play video games at this high priced arcade and restaurant. It's cool.

We started the whole thing when I complained that the guys who had divorced parents spent more time with their dads than I did.

Mom always says, "Did you boys have a good time?"

We both say, "Yeah."

Then she whispers, "Did you talk with him?" Like I don't have good hearing because I'm the only one in the family too young to have blown out my eardrums at rock concerts.

He shrugs and we eat dinner.

Anyway, when Dad picked me up I told him that I needed help. We had to go back to my classroom to get something. He shuffled along behind me, pretending to admire the lame-o art on the school walls.

When we finally got to the science classroom, Prof Sink was standing outside, tapping his foot and looking at his watch.

"Howdy volks. It is good for you to do this thing for this here ranch," the Prof said to Dad.

Professor Sinkovitz had been born in Germany, but moved to our school from somewhere in Texas.

"Sure," Dad said, shrugging. He never understands a word the Prof says. It took all us kids about three months before we realized that he was actually speaking English to us.

"The critter varmint is here inside," the Prof said, leading us to the back of the room. "This box should to keep him until he is to be transferred to the heated receptacle. He haff already been to well fed on small furry mouse-icle today, so in almost probability will not need more mealing until after brought back to school."

The Prof patted a closed cardboard box. Plastered on the outside in dark black letters were the words, "CAUTION -- LIVE ANIMAL"

"Huh?" Dad said.

"The snake is in the box and it's been fed," I translated. "I'm going to keep him in that old aquarium we have in the basement."

Dad stared at the box. He stared at me. "Did you ask Mom?"

Prof Sink may sound like he's insane, but he's pretty sharp on the uptake. He had asked everybody in the school to take care of the snake over the long weekend because he knew that as a cost-saving measure the heat in the building was being turned down to just above freezing. He was traveling to Alabama and was already late for his packing. "Is there to be a big problem?"

"Dad, please!" I begged. (Ellen's not the only one who knows how to turn on the charm and guilt. She's just better at it than me.)

Dad sighed and slumped and nodded. "No. It's fine. Can I at least look at him first?"

The Professor knew that this was a deal breaker, so he nodded.

Then, when Dad lifted the lid off the box, the Professor shouted, "Watch out for snake!"

Dad jumped back about three feet and dropped the box to the floor.

King Henry the Eighth slithered out onto the linoleum and looked annoyed.

Both the Prof and I burst out laughing. I gave the Prof a high five. He said, "See you to Monday. Enjoy your Dead Turkey Day." And was gone.

I picked up King Henry, put him back in the box, and put the lid on.

That's when I noticed Dad wasn't smiling. He was glaring. He was angry.

"What?" I said.

"What was that about?" he snapped. He kept his voice down, but I knew that if we were at home he'd be yelling at me.

"It's a classroom tradition!" I quickly explained. Whenever somebody opens a box with a snake in it, everybody shouts, "Watch out for snake!" Everybody gets scared the first time, but it's kind of like a traveling practical joke. After the first time, you get to startle somebody else. Don't blame me. The Prof did it to you."

At last Dad shook his head, smiled and even started to laugh a little. We lugged the box to the car, put the King in the back seat, and went to an indoor archery range. Shooting bows and arrows isn't as easy as it looks in the movies or cartoons. I didn't get a single bulls-eye, but I did manage to hit the target pretty consistently by the end of the session.

When we got home, I ran into the house to start my homework and Dad brought the box into the kitchen.

In my school, when you have a long weekend, the teachers give you extra homework because you have extra time. I was going to get it all done Wednesday night so I wouldn't have to cram at the last minute.

I was upstairs working on a math word problem when it happened.

There was a loud piercing shriek. "AAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Then a crash.

Then a curse.

Then uncontrollable sobbing.

I ran downstairs to the kitchen.

There was blood everywhere. Ellen was curled in the corner. My mother stood next to the stove with a knife in her hand. My dad was on his knees. His hands were red.

I gasped. My eyes were wide. I didn't know whether to scream, run or call an ambulance or the police.

Mom saw what was going through my mind, set down the knife and in a calm voice said, "Relax. Nobody's hurt. When Ellen saw the snake in the box, she screamed and I dropped a jar of spaghetti sauce. Your Dad is picking up the broken glass. Why don't you look for your reptile? I think it went into the living room. Dinner is going to be late."

A second look at the crime scene and I realized that everything was ok. Now I saw the box on the floor on the far side of the kitchen table. Ellen was clearly upset. It was not the time to ask more questions.

While I was searching under the couch on my hands and knees, Dad wandered by and whispered, "You owe me one."

I had no idea what he meant at the time. I found King Henry curled up near the radiator. Dinner was incredibly late. Nobody said a word. Not even what we'd learned that day. Just before lights out, Dad sneaked into my room and swore me to secrecy.

"I was helping your mother make dinner," he explained. "Ellen was peeking under the lid of the box."

"You didn't," I gasped.

He nodded. "I did."

Dad had yelled, "Watch out for snake!"

Ellen had screamed and the tomato sauce bloodbath was the result.

We both covered our mouths and laughed silently until our sides ached.

It's so sweet when I can torture my sister and cause chaos without taking any of the blame.

Next Episode: Snakes on a Platter